#and those are meant to be our wedding rings around our necks

[pizzaqueen]

The second part to the one where Steve tells some flirty girls Eddie’s married. It was only meant to be two parts but I decided to put an Eddie POV in! When I do part three it will go up on AO3 as one fic

This part is 1.3k and rated T

The sounds of the arcade—pings and clinks and curses—filter through to the backroom, providing the soundtrack to Eddie’s dreams. He’s asleep in his chair, the book he was reading propped open on his face, the drool escaping from his opened mouth dampening the pages.

The dream has just taken a turn for the better (Steve is smiling, wind blowing through his hair, decked out in blindingly shiny armor) when there’s the tickle of hair against his cheek and someone whispers boo. Dream-Steve is cruelly ripped away and Eddie flails awake. He grabs his book, throwing it in the opposite direction of the boo and he tips back in his chair, falling flat on his back.

Once the bleariness of sleep clears from his vision, he sees Jeff and Gareth standing over him, not even trying to hide their laughter. Assholes. Jeff reaches down a hand to help Eddie up; Eddie takes it, considers pulling Jeff down with him, but is still too groggy to do anything but let Jeff pull him to his feet.

“Hey,” Jeff says, still holding Eddie’s hand, turning it this way and that, “where’s the ring?”

Eddie blinks. “I’m wearing, like, three rings.”

“No, no, the wedding ring.”

“We hear congratulations are in order,” Gareth says, lips pursed against a smile, arms crossed over his chest.

“Congrat—“ Eddie had been so caught up in the dream he’d forgotten all about that whole thing at Family Video earlier. He rolls his eyes and retrieves his book, flipping through to find his page again. He grimaces at the damp patch in the corner, wiping it off on his jeans, then sets the book on his desk.

“C’mon, man, don’t leave us hanging.”

“Yeah, we want all the details.”

“Like, why weren’t we your groomsmen?”

“Did you elope?”

“Shut up.” Eddie rubs his eye with the heel of his hand. He’s not awake enough for these two, right now. “It was Steve.”

“Don’t tell me you decided to finally make an honest man of him,” Jeff says.

“Or was it the other way around?” Gareth adds.

“He’s not— We’re not—” An uncharacteristic flush crawls up Eddie’s neck, steals along his jaw. He doesn’t get embarrassed, not with these guys. But, between the dream, and what they just said… He folds his arms. “I meant, he’s the one who said I was married. I just played along.”

“Well, that explains everything.”

“Oh, yeah, makes perfect sense.” Jeff raises his brows. “You gonna spill or what?”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it. “No, actually, I’m not.” He points at Jeff and Gareth in turn. “I want to know how you two buttheads heard about it.”

“It’s all over town.” Jeff rights the chair that had been tipped over and slumps into it. He looks up at Gareth. “Right?”

“All over.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. He’s not entirely sure he believes them, but then again— “Good news travels as fast as ever in Hawkins, huh?” He leans back on his desk, crosses his arms. Looks between Jeff and Gareth.

“It sure does.” Gareth’s lips twitch.

Jeff is suspiciously impassive.

After the silence has stretched out for what Eddie feels is a sufficient amount of time he says, “So, which of our town’s gossipmongers did you here it from?” casually inspecting his nails.

They both speak at once, saying two different names and two different places; Jeff’s head falls back with a groan and Gareth doesn’t look even a little sheepish.

“Okay, we overheard the girls you told talking about it in the diner when we had lunch.”

“It probably will be all over town pretty soon, though.” Jeff shrugs. “Those girls seemed kinda pissed.”

“Why’d you tell them you’re married?”

“Well, Steve just said it because he, I don’t know…” Eddie trails off with a shrug. “Didn’t want the competition, or something.”

Jeff’s eyes narrow. “Competition for you?”

Gareth snorts; Eddie flushes. That’s starting to get annoying. “Competition from me.”

“But you don’t…” Gareth looks from Jeff to Eddie. He spreads his hands. “Ladies.”

“I don’t ladies?”

“You know what I mean.” They’ve never actually spoken about this. Well, no, there was one night when they got drunk enough for Eddie to spill his guts about how pretty Steve is and the crush he’s had on Kirk Hammett for years, but not drunk enough he doesn’t remember. But Eddie’s never actually told them told them. He’s never told anyone in so many words. And they haven’t spoken about that night since so he wondered if they didn’t remember.

“Yeah, well, Steve doesn’t.”

“Oh.” Gareth clears his throat. “Anyway, it sounds like more of a you thing to say,” he mutters.

“Guess he’s rubbing off on Harrington,” Jeff says.

“In his dreams.”

Eddie sighs.

“The wet ones,” Gareth adds.

“Yeah, we got that.” Jeff shakes his head.

“Real mature,” Eddie says, but he can’t deny the relief that floods through him. If they’re joking about this, teasing him, then they’re cool with it. But he figures he’ll keep the fact that his dreams about Steve are way more embarrassingly chaste—and dramatically romantic—than dirty most of the time to himself. His subconscious is a bastard.

“You know,” Jeff says, “I have a theory,” not letting Eddie ask what theory before he adds, “I don’t think it was the ladies Harrington wanted to himself.”

“What? Who else…” A few things fall into place, mostly the way Jeff’s looking at him, like he thinks Eddie already knows the answer. “No. No way.” Eddie waves his hands. “Steve isn’t…” It seems clear they all know that Eddie is by now. But Steve… No. “Look, did you guys come here to play games or are you going to“—he gestures toward the arcade—”play games?”

“Aww, we’ve made him go all shy.”

Eddie flips them the bird.

They both start chanting: “Steve and Eddie, sittin’ in a tree—”

“Out! Get out of my office!” Eddie corrals them toward the door, saying, “Don’t you children have college to attend and apprenticeships to apprentice?”

“It’s Saturday,” Jeff says.

Gareth shrugs. “Lunch break.”

But they both let Eddie steer them into the arcade, Gareth only stopping when his gaze zeroes in on one of the new machines Eddie finally convinced the owner to buy.

“You got Double Dragon and you didn’t tell me?” he says, wiggling out from Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, and making a beeline for the game.

“Yeah, because if I’d told you, you’d never leave.”

Gareth pokes his tongue out—Eddie does it back—and starts pumping quarters into the machine. Eddie’s surprised it’s free. There’s usually a whole horde of kids waiting around it.

“Hey, can we talk a moment?” Jeff says.

“Sure.”

Jeff raises his brows in the direction of the office and they head back there. “Look, I know we were being dicks, but you know that if you and Steve…” He trails off pointedly. “It’s cool. Even if you two don’t, it’s cool, either way, you know?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks, man.”

Jeff gives him a small smile. Then he says, “And I call dibs on being best man at your wedding.”

“Get out.”

“I’ve already started my speech!”

“Get out of my arcade, or I’m banning you for life.”

“No, you won’t,” Jeff says cheerfully, grabbing Gareth on his way out—“But my game!”—and a few kids who were rubbernecking whipping their heads back toward their machines when Eddie narrows his eyes in their general direction.

He sighs and goes back to his office, leaving the door open enough he’ll be able to hear any potential catastrophes, but closed enough that he can think in private.

The thing is, what Jeff said, that it might be Eddie Steve wants to keep to himself, not the ladies, has occurred to Eddie before. Mostly in moments of desperate hopefulness like when Steve looks at him a certain way or flirts back (he always flirts back) but he didn’t think that’s what was going on today. Now, though…

Shit. Was Jeff right? Eddie’s never been sure enough to push before, never been brave enough. But maybe he can push it a little further tonight.

—

Part three

NOW ON AO3!

Tagging some people who expressed interest in a second part (please let me know if you’d prefer not to be tagged again):

@drwatsonsjournal @bidisastersworld @rhaenyyras @skoomy-doompy @lonelywyoming @swimmingbirdrunningrock @duckyreads @w1770w @djosephqueery @stranger-poets-society @randomfandomcontent @thereindeerlady

[braveclementine]

Chapter 23

Warnings: None (anyone can read this story)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. I do not condone any copying of this.

"𝓜𝓞𝓜! Mom!" Sebastian came running, his long brown hair flying out behind him as he raced across the ground. His little sisters- Scarlett and Winter- came toddling after them, their blond hair glistening in the sun. Their matching scarves tight around their neck.

"What's wrong?" I asked automatically, getting to my feet where I was sitting with Steve and Bucky. We'd been relaxing in the backyard of our house. Bucky was scrolling on a phone, his wedding ring winking in the sun by the firepit. Steve had kicked back with a newspaper, the complete contrast of Bucky. Meanwhile, I had been flicking through a new book I'd bought.

"Come look what we found." Sebastian said with a big goofy grin on his face. "You won't believe it."

"How about you bring it here?" Steve suggested, looking up. "Your mother isn't supposed to be on her feet to much right now."

That was true. I was pregnant with triplets that were due within the next month. I sat back down gingerly in my chair. Scarlett and Winter climbed up on Bucky's chair, both of them trying to get to his metal arm.

Without even looking at them, Bucky held his metal arm out over the chair and the two girls giggled, clinging to it as they dangled a few inches over the deck.

"What is so great about that phone?" Steve scolded Bucky.

Bucky barely glanced up. "Well, Clint told me I should check out Tinder. I don't know what it is exactly yet."

I started to laugh. "Oh my gosh that is such a Clint thing to do."

Steve looked repulsed, "Isn't that like porn or something?"

I dissolved into giggles again. "No! It's a dating site."

Bucky finally looked up and squinted at me. "Wait. But why do I need a dating site?"

"It's a joke." I replied, covering my smile terribly with my hand.

Bucky grumbled, swiping off the phone and clearly deleting an app. "What else did Clint tell you to check out?"

"Pornhub, but I already skipped that one. I'm not a complete idiot. Then something called OnlyFans, Reddit, and TikTok."

"Those are all complete garbage." I replied. "You don't have to look at them. Well, maybe Reddit if you're looking at cute baby animals."

"So what should I look at?" Bucky grumbled. "I don't understand."

"Umm. . . Pinterest. Instagram. Oh, definitely Wattpad." I rattled off my most used apps. "You can post about our family on Instagram if you want. And Wattpad is kind've like a fan base writing sort of thing. Although, I guess a lot of it is like written porn. And Pinterest is just kind've an aesthetic thing."

Sebastian came running back across the grass, holding a huge cardboard box.

"What in the world?" I asked. "Seb, what's in the box?"

"Look." Sebastian said, placing the box at my feet.

I peered in and saw that there were like eight or nine black baby kittens in the box. They could all easily fit in the palm of Steve's hand.

"Gosh Seb, where in the world did you find this?" I asked, eyes widening. "Was there no mother? They don't look to be old enough by themselves."

"There can't be a mother." Bucky said, having put the phone and children down. "Otherwise they wouldn't be in a box. This is a new box, they were only put in there today. Someone was. . ." He drifted off.

"Trying to get rid of them." I finished. "Like Mr. Peters did with me."

Bucky's hand clenched into a fist. Even after so many years, Mr. Peters and me being a kitten and him dumping me in the reflecting pool was still a sort spot for both Bucky and Steve.

"Yeah, that." Steve grunted, putting the newspaper aside.

"May he forever rest in hell." Bucky snarled.

"Buck." Steve and I patronized, motioning to the kids.

"I meant capital H- lower case e and two hockey sticks." Bucky rolled his eyes, patting Winter on the head.

"Bad daddy." Scarlett patronized, looking at him solemnly with her four year old eyes.

"That's right sweetheart, bad daddy." Steve said with a grin, winking at Bucky who grew rather flustered.

"What are we going to do with the kittens?" Bucky asked quickly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"We can take care of them." I said with a shrug. "I mean, we'll have to get a special formula for them of course. Take them to the vet. But I don't see why we can't keep them, even if there are a lot of them."

"They're not any cousins of yours, are they doll?" Bucky asked with a sparkling grin.

I rolled my eyes. Every time we saw a cat, they immediately asked if I knew him or her. "If they are, I haven't been alerted to their Earthly presence."

Steve chuckled, standing up finally, coming over and rubbing my shoulders. "That's a lot of cats to name."

"I've got them." Bucky said comfortably. He pointed to each one as he named them, "Alpha, Calypso, Cloud, Cosmo, Luna, Nova, Sirius, and Stella."

Steve, Sebastian, Winter, Scarlett, and I all looked at him in surprise. Bucky shrugged, cheeks burning again, "They're all space names. I mean, you kids can name them if you want."

"I like them dad." Sebastian said eagerly. "They're great names."

"I like Luna the best!" Scarlett declared, scooping up the kitten that Bucky had dubbed 'Luna'.

"Gently Scar." Steve said and showed her the best way to hold the kitten and how you had to hold her gently. I caught Bucky's eyes and we both smiled. Every single time Steve did something fatherly with the kids, it actually turned both of us on. Except at the moment I was to big to actually do anything except lay there.

"Alright." Bucky said quickly, scooping up his phone and putting it in his back pocket. "It's been a long, busy day. Let's get the cats in, make sure them have some water at least, maybe a little chicken. Actually, it might be better if we started them off on cat food right? Then they won't be picky like you." He nudged me a little.

Rolling my eyes once more, I waddled into the house. Steve and Bucky helped the kids in the kitchen get the kittens all ready while I climbed into bed. I could only lay on my back at this point, but I knew very soon I wasn't going to be getting any sleep at all with triplets.

Steve and Bucky put the kids to bed, before coming in and laying down next to me. Steve slipped his ring off to put it on the dresser next to the bed. He rolled over again to hug me from one side. Bucky on the other.

"Kittens are in the kitchen. Kids are in their beds. All the shades are closed, lights are out, and all the doors and windows are locked." Bucky said before yawning, snuggling into me.

"Thank you love." I mumbled, closing my eyes, letting my men be my warmth.

"We love you Y/N." Steve muttered.

"I love both of you too." I said quietly, falling asleep as it started to snow outside.

⬅️➡️

[theprincessandherloyalprotector]

“I trust that you will,” I nod, “have a good night.” I give him a smile and then move over to the snack table.

For the rest of the evening, several people ask you to dance, including Rhaenyra herself. It seems… as long as she can have Daemon privately she’s rather alright with this whole arrangement- and therefore willing to celebrate with you.

At the end of the night Daemon leads you to your new shared chambers, where all of your stuff has already been moved during the wedding. Dina left early herself to ensure it was done properly before you arrived.

Daemon consummates the marriage as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt you. The movements and purpose are there, but the passion is not. That’s… still reserved for Rhaenyra.

He snuggles you in his arms when it’s over, deciding to at least stay with you for this wedding night to get used to the chambers and everything. He falls asleep quickly, tired from the big day and the activity to close out the night.

—

In the morning, Jullon hurries to Dina’s room before the sun even has a chance to rise, quietly knocking on her door. He holds a small bouquet of flowers that he tied with a satin purple ribbon, which took him nearly all night to find. Hopefully the tailors don’t mind him digging through their scraps.

Dina opens the door with half-open eyes, her hair rustled just as he described to you the night before. “Yes? Oh- Jullon,” she straightens.

Last night was magical. They danced around the room several times without a care in the world, and it felt right.

“Dina,” he breathes, giving her a soft smile and holding the flowers out. “Good morrow.” He continues as she takes the bouquet and smells its freshness. “I… I come to you… as a man who has only known his job and not much outside of that. I come to you as someone who has been your dear friend ever since you started here and- and has watched you grow into this… remarkable young woman that you are today.”

“Jullon, what are you-”

“Last night only reaffirmed for me the one thing I have consistently known to be true for all these years. I am in love with you, Dina,” he shakes his head, tearing up as her breath hitches and her eyes become glassy as well. “I am in love with you. And- I cannot offer you much. I cannot yet offer you pretty jewels or rich fabrics but I can offer you my love. And my protection. And- and happiness for all of your days. I can promise you loyalty. Love. Light. Safety. I can promise you fun. Joy. I don’t want anyone else giving you those things. I cannot stand the idea of someone else holding you at night or planting kisses to your temples when your head aches and promising magical cures. That’s for me. You… you are for me- and not in a possessive way,” he quickly assures her. “Just- we are meant to be together. Our souls were created for the purpose of being together. So… Dina Irvine…” his voice shakes, the tears falling down his cheeks now. “Would- would you do me the tremendous honor of being my wife? Of becoming Missus Dina Harte?”

Dina lets out a sob and nods quickly, lurching forward to hug him so very tightly. “Y-Yes- yes of course.”

Jullon laughs wetly, his arms wrapping around her just as fast. “I love you so much. Thank you, my girl.” He kisses her head and sways with her slowly, despite her feet being off the ground.

“I love you,” she breathes into his neck, “I’ve loved you for- for so long. Do we have permission? To marry?”

Jullon nods. “Princess Lili herself gave me her permission just last evening. At the ceremony.” He grins as her joyous little giggle rings out beneath his ear. “We get to be married forever. And everyone can know of our love.” He sets her down, his hands resting on her hips- he’s just not ready to fully let her go yet.

“I- I have to get ready so soon,” she gestures, staring up at him like he’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. It makes his heart ache. “But you should- we must celebrate tonight. You should come over. I can cook your favorite and… and maybe I can find some wine. And I’m certain I’ll see you around the castle today,” her grin somehow widens.

“Of course, my love,” he nods softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Of course I’ll come over. Go get ready for now- I don’t want you to get in trouble.” He takes a step back, watching her do the same, as neither of them are ready to turn their backs yet. “I’ll see you soon. You’re so beautiful.”

“I love you,” she says through her grin, shaking her head in awe as she fully steps into her room and shuts the door between them to get ready.

—

Just half an hour later, Dina moves into your chambers, having spent time preparing for several things today.

First, that she may see Prince Daemon naked. She’s never seen a man naked before. Hopefully he’s at least got bedsheets over him.

Second, that she must remain professional and focused despite the promise of seeing her fiance for dinner later tonight.

Third, that her job will be busier now- and she couldn’t be more thrilled. Being able to go places with you means she will see so much of the world she never would’ve dreamed of seeing before.

She’s wearing her first handmaiden’s dress this morning, a gorgeous light blue color. It’s simpler than her gown last evening but still much more intricate than anything she’s worn before for her daily duties.

Is she supposed to wake Daemon as well? Probably not. She’ll remain quiet as possible.

“Princess?” She calls softly, drawing the curtains open per usual.

[november-writes1819]

Falling In With You Chapter 2

“God, Aleksi, how is it that you always manage to find yourself in these situations? Do you have some kind of radar for guys that you can’t have?” Ella’s voice held fond annoyance as she glanced down at the man whose head currently occupied her lap. “Seriously, this is like the third one in a row. If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d say you’re a masochist.” She teased, brushing a stray curl off of Aleksi’s forehead, tapping his nose in silent scold. 

“Look, Ellie, if you saw him you wouldn’t even blame me!” Aleksi protested, pouting up at his best friend. He nipped at her fingertips with a huff, a sulk on his lips as she rolled her eyes. “He’s fucking gorgeous. Way more than Corey or Luke ever were. Like I saw him, and just- holy shit. I forgot how to talk.” He admitted, cheeks flushed as he glanced away. “And he’s nice to boot. It’s not like I meant to end up with a cru- being attracted to him. But he’s attractive. And I have eyes.”

With a huff, Aleksi pulled his phone from his jeans pocket, pulling up Cameron’s social media, handing it over. 

“Oh Goddamn, you weren’t kidding, were you.” Elle whistled low, swiping through before handing the device back over. “I mean- I’m not interested, but aesthetically, that man is the personification of a chefs kiss.” She conceded. “But so help me if you tell Laurie that I called a man of all things attractive, and I’m starching every pair of panties you own, understood?”

“I’m so worried.” A snort came from the doorway, a tall, raven haired woman appearing with a tray of iced coffees. Blue eyes glittered with amusement as Laurie dipped, brushed her lips to her wifes sweetly. “This is exactly why I put a ring on it, you know. Just in case, after twenty years of liking women and a wedding, you suddenly decided you like men after all.” She teased, pulling out a coffee and handing it down to Aleksi. 

A grateful noise escaped him as he reached out grabbing fingers to clasp the cup, forcing himself to sit up from his perch. He tucked his legs under himself on the couch, taking a grateful sip. “God, Laurie, if she didn’t marry you, I might have had to.”

“You only like me for my coffee runs, brat.” She shot back good naturedly, settling onto Ella’s lap, one arm draping around her neck. “So, Leksi went and caught feels again, huh? Who is it this time? Model? One night stand from the club?”

“Straight boy from down the hall.” Ella hummed as she took her drink from the tray, one arm draping with ease around the other woman’s waist, lips brushing along her jaw, snorting at Laurie’s wince. “Oh, I know. I’ve been lecturing our dearest little flower on the fact that he’s a moron.”

A whine left Aleksi as he scowled at them from around the straw of his drink. “Firstly, it’s so fucking weird hearing you say “caught feels”. Secondly, I did not! He’s just hot. That’s it. You know the rules- don’t get attached. No feelings. Everyone is a one night only event. And thirdly, you know you aren’t actually my moms, yeah?”

“Ah, to be young and still believe that you can live like that forever.” Laurie sighed dramatically, reaching out to pinch one golden cheek. “Just you wait, kiddo. One day, you’re gonna meet someone and it’s gonna hit you like a train how damn lonely you’ve been. You won’t even be able to remember how you lived before you had them in your life. And all those things you shudder and scoff at? You’re gonna ache for. Mark me, baby boy, and when it happens? I’m gonna be there to say I told you so.” 

“As for that “not your real moms” comment, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” Ella raised a brow at the younger man pointedly. “Because everyone knows we cried the day you were born.” “I imagine you very well might have.” Aleksi agreed, setting down his drink and lighting a cigarette. “You were both only ten and twelve respectively. Lots to cry about at that age, I imagine. So… are you two done razzing me, or do you have a bit more to go? Because if you’re finished, I’m taking Cam out tomorrow night drinking, and I could really use some eyes helping me pick out an outfit.”

Laurie paused, glancing from her wife to Aleksi, concern flashing on her face momentarily. A hand caught hers and squeezed, a silent reassurance. I know. We can’t push him too hard. He has to be allowed to figure it out by himself. “Drinks huh?” She did the best to keep the worry out of her voice. It would do no good to complicate things before they even really were a thing. But Aleksi didn’t exactly have a history of good decisions…. “Where are you thinking about going?” “Oh, I was thinking about 32 on fourth. It’s got a good vibe. I doubt Cam’s ever been to a gay bar, but at least there, we can have fun, good drinks, and I can keep an eye on him way easier than he can probably keep an eye on me at one of those sleezy bars downtown.” Probably best to avoid those places after last time. One broken nose was more than enough to drive the lesson home that there was safety in familiarity. 

“Besides, I can still have fun flustering him right? Because we’re friends now. I think.” He nodded sagely to himself, taking one last drag on his cigarette before putting it out with a dreamy sigh. “You should have seen how flustered he got during our shoot. He turns such a pretty pink. But fuck, when he gets into it, he gets such serious “I’m in charge vibes” and…” A grin tugged at Aleksi’s lips, emerald eyes glimmering with mischief. “I would be lying through my teeth if I said I’m not about a thousand percent here for it.”

A sigh left Ella’s lips as she stood, stabbing a hand through auburn locks before holding out a hand. “You’re a fucking menace, you know that, baby boy? Alright alright, little flower. Come on, lets go pick you out something stellar.” She conceded, curling her fingers around his gently and tugging him to his feet, drawing him into the crook of her arm. There was no harm in letting him have this, she supposed. It wasn’t as though it would go anywhere anyways, and as long as he was careful to not get attached, then it would just be another game to him, right?

….Right?

[notsadjustbroken]

I dreamed of you last night. 

I didn't even realize it was you until i felt the warm embrace of sunshine on my skin. 

Gently guided awake by my cat's paws kneading my chest.

I realized I had missed you. 

I had pushed every thought and anything that resembled us down the trash chute months after we parted. 

I hardly thought of you now. 

But last night I thought of you. 

Of what our lives could have possibly become. 

We had a simple life living across from my grandmother's in a basement apartment, but we were together. 

We had smiles on our face and though I straddled you and kissed you and pushed back your red hair from your face. 

It was real because you put the dried pasta noodles in my face and told me you didn't want pasta for dinner. 

It made me laugh, it made me roll over in my dream on our little cot and tell you I love you. 

At least in my dream, you bought me a ring a little more than 200, and it fit just perfectly. 

We didn't have a wedding, we just got married and moved into our little place. 

It wasn't very decorated, but it felt safe despite the two locks on the door.

I missed having you listen. 

Regardless of our problems in the real world, you always listened to me. You also brought up a chair and told me to talk. You did always try your best. 

I don't think you meant to be clingy, but if I felt the only person in the world to love and see me was going to slip out my hands at any seconds, I probably would have clinged and wrapped myself around them too. 

But in my dream, you weren't clingy, maybe it was the security of marriage. Or how strongly I felt about marriage and its bond that let you know how badly I wanted to be with you. 

I cooked us dinner, you took the trash out, you kissed my shoulder and I knew somehow that you did really love me. 

I wished I hadn't thought about u. 

I have a problem thinking sex is love, that sex is everything. You were never obsessed with sex the way I was. In fact, sex was a part, never a whole for you. It wasn't something that had changed your life and manipulated itself into addiction. A way to cope with the trauma, I only ever told you. 

You on the other hand had divorced parents. You were scared, I'd leave you. Scared that one day you'd wake up and I'd packed my bags. You were afraid I'd become your father, drunk, spiteful, and not willing to hear the others' story. Which is why you were always quiet when I told you about growing up in a household with a drunkard. But also why we hardly ever drank other than to celebrate rare occasions. 

Last thing I remember was you and me dancing. 

I remember you putting music on the TV mounted against beige walls that were once white.

Hand in hand, I slid mine up your arms and around your neck. I looked into your green eyes and you held me against your heart. It felt just like that day you put the music on the roof of your car and told me I made you into a man, it felt cliche but you were being honest. Told me I was going to be your wife, and you could never want anyone more than me. 

At the end we had a party, for whom I don't know. Maybe it was a gathering. I remember not knowing we were hosting and you were sitting there in sweats and I told you to change. I wish I hadn't sent you away, and I didn't say hello to all those people sitting on our fresh out the box furniture. Because I would have loved one moment with you to tell you how sorry I am. To tell you I love you again, before I forget it again.

-Love Lo

[avastyetwats]

Stede's lips were on Israel's the moment he was given permission to kiss him again. His lover was on his back in the sand with Stede completely on top of them, no space left between their bodies. He kissed him with such fervor - tongues engaged in a dance of passion while his hands moved up his sides and to the back of his neck. One hand slid under his head to cradle him while they kissed, his eyes closed as he loses himself completely in the kiss. As he loses himself in Israel and the thought of marrying him. And those thoughts only made Stede kiss his fiancé harder. He was content in staying like this all night, kissing him until sunrise, the thought sounding quite tempting and wonderful, but the only downside as the mess of sand they'd wake up to. Worth it, Stede thinks as he continues to kiss Izzy, only realizing that he, too, needed to breathe when Izzy was the one to break the kiss again.

He rolls them onto his side and Stede can't help the whine that falls from his lips at the sudden loss of warmth, but he makes up for it by nestling close to him again, stopping only when Izzy takes his hand and holds it up, looking over the ring on his pinky that fit so perfectly. He listens to him speak about the ring, and his mother, his gaze moving back and forth between the two. But the smile had returned, and the loving and adoring look in his eyes never left. His heart flutters at the way he caresses his hand while he talks about the ring, his heart holding so much love contrary to what people thought, and said, about Izzy Hands. But Stede knew him. The crew knew him. This was a man that loved with his entire heart. He's more than shown that. And more than once. And he was truly loved in return.

your love brought me back.

Those words make the tears return to Stede's eyes and he oh so gentle wraps his fingers around Izzy's hands and brings it to his lips for a soft, but lingering kiss - a tear or two falling onto the back of his hand. "I promise, Israel." And he meant it. "This ring will never leave my sight. I will keep it with me at all times and protect it. Always." He would protect it with his life, just as he would protect Israel. "And you know," He smiles again, holding up their intertwined hands in the air as he admired the ring again. "She's going to be with us. When we're married." She was always with Izzy and she would be for their wedding, whenever and wherever, they would have it.

"And I also think," A brief pause as he lowers their hands. "Whatever her favorite color, or perhaps even her favorite flower, or perhaps both, we make that part of the wedding. We make her part of our wedding." He suggests with a sweet smile, his eyes landing on Izzy's, wondering what he thought of that idea.

This ridiculous idiot was behaving like he hadn’t just initially proposed just beforehand. Bonnet had proposed to him, shocked Izzy to his core. He’d taken the breath out of him just as Israel had done to Stede as he gathered himself and offered the ring. And oh how the pirate screamed into the cool night that he’d marry him. Izzy already knew the answer. He’d just said yes himself, but now they had a ring. Izzy had now formally proposed himself and this was the most special of things.

Luckily for them the slightly tarnished ring did fit on Stede’s pinky of his left hand which brightened his expression in ways he’d never known. Sure, he’d been happy with this man. He’d been ecstatic. But in this moment it hit him just how much he had loved him. And to think, their past was so fucking tumultuous but now it lead here. Izzy didn’t have too much time to think once he slipped the ring on his finger because Stede was once again begging to kiss him. How could he deny that?

His voice was low, it was soft. “ Yes, you can kiss me..” And of course Bonnet wasted no time. Israel was practically tackled down into the sand, chuckling against his lips as he was completely smothered in his captain. This wasn’t comparative to those quick kisses. Oh no, this was a deep kiss. Bonnet’s tongue was when in his mouth so quickly his only instinct was to suckle on it in turn, rubbing his own pink muscle to his. Arms were wrapped the tightest they’d ever been, and for long moments.. who knew how long, they continued kissing each other on the sand.

But soon Izzy needed to breathe. They both did and the kiss stopped. Izzy was panting but he was smiling as well. Then, he rolled them over at least so they were laying on their sides in the sand. His hand came from behind his back and took the newly ringed hand of his captain. He gently ran his thumb over the stone of the small ring, looking at it and then back to him. “ The only other person that wore this was my mother. She was everything to me, Stede. All of her love is tucked away in this tiny little stone. “ All of her love was truly inside Israel, but damnit he was feeling poetic. That tad bit of artist shone through, illuminated in that moment by his fiancée and his mother’s love.

“ Her love was the only thing that kept me going for many years. And just when I thought I couldn’t bare the pain of this world anymore.. your love brought me back. So it just seems the right thing to give this to you. It’s all my mother’s love.. “ He slowly raised his eyes to his. “ And mine. Promise me you’ll take care of it? “ Because now Stede Bonnet held all of it in his hands. He held Israel even. He kept him going, he made him happy. This ring was symbolic in such a multitude of ways. When he was asking if Stede would take care of the ring, he meant his own love as well.

[self-shipyard]

(WIP) Plague Spouses!

I said I wasn't going to do much for this Halloween, but I'm on break from anatomy studies and wanted to make a quick sketch. So, I sketched myself and Gh.ia as plague doctors!

(Well, plague doctor and plague nurse)

I'm planning to iron out this sketch and add little details to it when I go on my next break, and if I do, I will post it before the witching hour!

[okay-j-hannah]

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act

Doctor Who : Multishot

Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 5616

Warnings: AHHH this is IT! the EPILOGUE. I’m so proud I managed to get this far with this series. It’s been such a long time coming - thank you to those that stuck with it! There’s a fair amount of FLUFF here!!!!

Request: This is just from my own head 😊

A/N: The Doctor takes you on a ‘practice’ honeymoon - full of antics, new friends, and telepathy - and perhaps the final question. Does he propose? Happily ever after?

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 5: The Regeneration

Part 6: The Lost Shoes

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act {You Are Here}

Finale: All Of Time And Space

The bed wouldn’t stop wiggling, swaying (Y/N) from her deep sleep. She groaned, shifting uncomfortably until her eyes opened lazily. It was still pitch dark.

She rubbed at her face, suddenly noticing that the mattress was weighed down on her left side. It was easy to notice as she normally slept in the middle of the bed.

She lifted her head and saw the Doctor snuggled there, buried under her blankets and cuddling her pillows.

(Y/N) rested on her elbows, sighing at him. The conclusion was clear: he had another nightmare.

She leaned over and poked his nose. He scrunched his face and grumbled.

“What are you doing?”

He took a deep calming breath, surrounded by (Y/N). Her room. Her bed. Her blankets. Her smell. Herself.

The Doctor scooted towards her, eyes still closed, “Safe.”

Her brow creased, smirking, “You being cryptic again?”

He nudged even closer to her, his head now reaching her shoulder, “Safe.”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, looking at the serenity of his face. Quietly she lifted her arm, and he took full advantage, wriggling into her embrace and holding her torso.

She giggled, getting comfortable again with their arms wrapped around each other. She began combing through his hair, one of his new favorite pastimes. It was lulling him to sleep.

His breath tickled her collarbone. (Y/N) rested her cheek against his head, running her fingers down the base of his neck.

She sighed into him, whispering, “I love you.”

She felt the Doctor stop breathing against her. And in a matter of seconds his fingers tickled her as he climbed his way to her face to kiss every inch of it.

“HA! Doctor!”

He peppered kisses along her cheeks and nose and lips. “I love you too!”

~~~

The Doctor wrung his hands, hunching his shoulders against the console. “Romantic. I can be romantic, can’t I? Of course I can – I’m a professional – the king of romance. Don’t quote me on that.”

Amy had her arms folded tightly, leaning against the railing. Rory was sitting beside her and fiddling with a ring box. The one they were meant to keep safe.

“How am I supposed to get her to say yes if I don’t ask her right?” the Doctor slammed his hands into his eyes.

“She’s going to say yes regardless of how you ask her,” Amy retorted, “You’re overthinking this, Doctor.”

“I’m going to mess it up, I know I will,” he rambled, “If I wasn’t so much of an idiot…”

Amy yelled out, “Oi! You’re clever and you know it.”

“A clever idiot,” the Doctor now said, “How can I convince (Y/N) to marry me?”

“How can you ever doubt that she’ll say yes?”

Rory piped up, “He has a point.”

Amy kicked him with her foot as the Doctor pointed at him in thanks.

“What?” Rory cried, “It’s natural to doubt even if you’ve been together for years.” He waited for Amy to kick him again, “You did run off on our wedding night – a bloke worries.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N) is the type that would settle down and enjoy a family life.”

The Doctor groaned, “This isn’t helping!”

“What do you want us to say?” Amy asked, “I’ve already told you there’s nothing to worry about. She’s going to say yes.”

Rory opened the box and peered at the ring, “Maybe you just need to be certain she’s ready for the question.”

Amy scoffed, “Oh, please. She’s ready.”

“How do you know?”

“Girls talk.”

Rory rested his arms on his knees, “Yeah, but the Doctor would like to know that for himself.”

“How do I do that?” the Doctor wrung his hands again.

“A date.”

“A date!” he exclaimed as if it were an original thought. “We’ll go on an adventure that’s actually a date – she won’t know that of course – but I’ll know it.”

Amy gaped, “What?”

The Doctor twirled around, finding a spare compartment on the console and rummaging through it. He yanked out a baseball, an umbrella, and a hair dryer before extracting a jewelry box.

“It will be a cleverly devised plan where I’ll find out if she’s ready to be married – if she’d want to marry me – and what her preferences are on how to be asked.”

Amy had a crease in her brow, gawking at him, “Do you remember when I said you were overthinking this? It’s getting worse.”

The Doctor pulled a couple things from the jewelry box, tossing it over his shoulder. It shattered on the floor.

“Nonsense,” he said, holding one of the small objects to the light, “I’m clever, remember?”

“A clever idiot.”

The Doctor placed the object onto his finger. It was a simple golden band. “Right, (Y/N)!”

“What are you doing?” Rory cried out, shoving the ring box into his pocket. “I thought there was going to be some planning.”

“There has been planning,” the Doctor said, admiring his ring, “This was the planning.”

“What is the date, then?” Rory asked, flabbergasted.

“(Y/N)!” the Doctor shouted, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll hear all about it during girl talk. (Y/N), I need you!”

From the top of the stairs came (Y/N), a thick novel in her hand and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, “What are you yelling about? I was in the library.”

“Ah, having a swim?” the Doctor asked, knotting his fingers.

(Y/N) scrunched her brow, but smiled, “I was reading,” she held up her book, “And having a cuddle on the couch.” She lifted the edge of her blanket.

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor laughed quite unlike himself, “Bit nervous I suppose.” He then sprinted towards the stairs to reach her.

“Nervous about what?”

“We’ve got a top secret mission,” he said, flinging the blanket from her shoulders with a flourish, “And you and I are going undercover.”

“Undercover?” she laughed, lifting her novel away from his hands, “You are not throwing my book.”

The Doctor snapped his fingers, “All right, just set it down. We’ve got to go!” He ran to the console to set their destination.

“Hello, Amy – Rory,” she said, used to the Doctor’s antics by now. “Enjoying your morning?”

Rory got to his feet rather clumsily, folding his arms to hide the bulge in his coat pocket. “Fine, fine. How about you?”

“Well, I was getting to an exciting bit in my book before being rudely interrupted.”

“What are you looking at me like that for?” the Doctor asked.

(Y/N) sighed, “And Amy… why are you looking all huffy?”

“I am not,” she retorted, “Your boyfriend is just working on my last ounce of patience.”

“He tends to do that,” (Y/N) said, “How exactly are we going undercover?” She turned to the console to see the Doctor waving his left hand around. Something was twinkling there.

“A married couple. Has a nice ring to it. AHA, get it?” he jumped down towards her, brandishing something in his hand, “Figured it’d make things easier where we’re going.”

She stared at the second ring. It was a simple gold band, slimmer than the one the Doctor had on. And this one had a tiny white diamond in the middle.

“Do you like it?” he asked, lightly taking her left hand and gently placing the ring on her finger.

She didn’t respond for a while – she was too preoccupied trying to memorize the feeling of the Doctor giving her a ring.

“Um… well, I prefer silver. I like the simplicity, small diamonds. But perhaps a bit more of those, and maybe something a bit more unique with the band.”

The Doctor was looking at her with such seriousness, as if he were locking that into memory. “Yes, good to know – thanks for that. But for now, will that suffice?”

(Y/N) giggled, lifting her hand to admire the way it looked, “I suppose for now.” She squinted her eyes at him, “What are you trying to do?”

The Doctor twiddled his fingers, running to the door, “Uuuhhh… questions for later. At the moment we are undercover.”

She gave a look to Amy and Rory, “I expect an explanation when we get back.”

Rory nodded to her, avoiding her gaze, but Amy rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out by the end of the day.”

“Come along, wife,” the Doctor said, all giddy like, “Let’s go.”

“All right, husband,” she said. It made the Doctor giggle again. “Let’s have that adventure.”

They joined hands and left the TARDIS. They were outdoors. They were surrounded by a beautiful pine forest, bristling in the light breeze. Birds were chirping and a river was somewhere nearby, rushing against rocks.

Ahead was a log and stone cabin, framed by trees and mountains. Peculiarly the mountains glistened like they were made from more than just rock. The cabin was many stories high and had extensions including a probable greenhouse and an elaborate back garden full of hedges, fields, and meadows.

“Is this… an outdoor retreat?” (Y/N) asked.

The Doctor squeezed her hand, “Smell that fresh air!” He took a dramatic breath. “We’ve got to go check in.”

“Is this an excuse to go on holiday together? Cause that’s basically what we do every time we go out on an adventure.”

The Doctor pulled on her hand, “No, no – we’re still undercover to gather information.”

“What kind of information?” They padded along a cobblestone path.

“That’s uh… classified.”

(Y/N) laughed, letting the Doctor open the large oak front door for her. “Maybe Amy is right. I’ll figure your motives out before long.”

A hostess desk was just inside and a cheery woman, who was clearly not human, greeted them with a blueish smile.

“Good afternoon, how are you?”

“Splendid,” the Doctor said, “My wife and I are wanting a little weekend getaway.” He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulling her into him excitedly.

The hostess grinned, “Oh, how nice! Is this visit for any particular reason?” She opened a logbook to check for room availability.

The Doctor couldn’t stop his smiling, “Well, it’s actually our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” the hostess said, almost sad, “Oh, you should’ve called ahead. We could’ve set up the entire honeymoon suite and perks with the purchase of the honeymooners package deal.”

“Good to know,” the Doctor said, “But that’s all right. Is there something else complimentary that we could enjoy while we’re here?”

(Y/N) leaned over, “It’s really all right, we’re just here to enjoy the scenery.”

The hostess nodded, “Yes, well – at the moment we’re accommodating some families and other guests for our annual stargazing fest. There’s quite the spectacular shooting star show tonight. Seeing as you’re an obviously lovely newly married couple… I could give you a discount on a room with a balcony – beautiful views. And I’ll slip you into the VIP dining room, free of charge.”

“Spectacular,” the Doctor remarked, “Put us down for the weekend.”

“Really, thank you for the trouble. We appreciate it.” (Y/N) removed the Doctor’s arm, so they were holding hands again. “Never let the husband plan the first trip – lesson learned.”  

The Doctor looked offended, but the hostess interrupted, “Here is the key to your room. There is a luncheon just in the back garden now. Feel free to enjoy a meal before going up.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said, taking the key before the Doctor, “Have a lovely evening.” She tugged on his hand, and they made for the glass double doors to the dining room and back garden.

“Lesson learned?” the Doctor mocked.

(Y/N) patted his arm, “Oh, hush. This is all undercover work – we’re playing a part.”

They peered around at the few tables set in the garden. There was really only space at one table with two men.

(Y/N) tugged on the Doctor, “Come along. If we’re here we might as well be sociable.”

“Shall I introduce us as Dr. and Mrs.?”

She made a face, “Let’s stick with first names. I like this – being undercover. It’s sort of like this is our trial run.”

“For what?” the Doctor asked, looping her arm through his, “Being investigative partners?”

“No, for being actually married.”

The Doctor tripped over his own ankle, dragging (Y/N) down a bit.

“Woah, there,” she laughed, winking at the other guests, “My husbands a bit jet lagged. Quite the flight over here.”

They neared the table with the remaining seats – facing the two men. They looked comical at the couples antics.

The Doctor pulled a chair out for (Y/N), and she sat in it laughing, “Do you mind if we join you?”

“Not at all,” one of the men said, “You two look like a riot.”

“I promise to keep her in line,” the Doctor said, though his confident smile fell, “Unless she’s made up her mind about something – then I have no say at all. I’m just along for the ride at that point.”

(Y/N) gave him an admiring smile, reaching for his hand. “My name is (Y/N). You can call him the Doctor. He refuses to be called by anything else.”

“I like that name,” said the other man, leaning forward, “I’m a kind of doctor myself.”

“Fantastic,” said the Doctor, “Practicing what in particular?”

The man reached out a hand to shake, “Pediatrics. The name’s William.” He had dark hair and light eyes. His jaw was strong and angular, dimples clearly visible in his smile – all in all a rather handsome face.

The Doctor was oblivious to that, of course, as he shook his hand, “Hello, Dr. Will. You can tell he’s a medical man by the handshake. Good, strong handshake.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “You’ll have to excuse my husband. He says strange things – chronically.”

Will laughed, resting back in his chair and smacking the shoulder of the man next to him. “This is my kid brother, Thomas. He can be on the quiet side, but he sure knows how to host a dinner party.”

The brother did appear embarrassed by the introduction. He was shy with his glances, his face much more boyish than his angular brother. It suited his sandier hair and light brown eyes.

“It’s all about the attire,” Tom said quietly, “You must look the part to play a proper host.” He reached up and straightened a bowtie at his collar.

The Doctor snapped his fingers, pointing at Tom, “Brilliant – absolutely brilliant. We are going to get along splendidly; I can already tell.”

“What do you do for a living, Tom?” (Y/N) asked pleasantly. She was warming up to him instantly, wanting him to be comfortable in conversation. They would have to be friendly if they were to stay the whole weekend.

The man crossed his legs, hiding his hands between them, “Ah, well – I’m a schoolteacher.”

“He’s being modest,” Will said, reaching for his glass of what looked to be something fruity. “He’s a history professor.”

“A professor!” the Doctor exclaimed, “And of history, no less. Do you teach at a university?”

“I teach around,” Tom said, quietly. “I’m a scientist by nature. I travel the galaxies to teach lectures, but to also conduct research.”

William smacked his lips at his drink, “Fond of space exploration, this one.”

“Not you?” asked the Doctor.

“I’ve found my fancy on a planet called Earth – ever heard of it?”

(Y/N) and the Doctor shared a look, laughing immediately. She nodded, “Yes, we’ve lived there for a number of years, actually. We’re very fond of the planet.”

“How about that,” Will chuckled, “Well, that’s where I practice my pediatrics. I bounce between countries, but with some help from my brother, we’ve researched incredibly innovative studies. We’ve just about found a cure to the common cold.”

“No,” the Doctor muttered, “Impossible. But that would make you…”

“An absolute genius?” Will said with some arrogance, “Why yes, it does.”

Tom cleared his throat, “Sometimes I believe he enjoys being the face more than the doctor.”

“Don’t be like that,” Will said, clearing the air with his smile. “You know that’s not true.”

The Doctor folded his arms, “Because of the children.” His smile was fond, admiring, “You’re a healer of children. No sane man could hold an ounce of arrogance when looking upon a sick child.”

Will looked towards the table as if he’d been discovered. It made Tom smile brighter.

“Your deductions are spot on,” Tom said.

(Y/N) put a finger to her chin, “Is it the stargazing festival that brings you here?”

“Yes,” Will said. Clearly he was the one that spoke for the two of them in public outings. “This is a family favorite location. We all visit here now and again – a great meeting place for reunions, actually.” He nudged his brother.

“What brings you two here?”

The Doctor got that stupid grin on his face, “It’s our honeymoon.” He bounced on his seat, intertwining his and (Y/N)’s fingers. He lifted their hands to show off the golden wedding ring.

The brothers held slight confusion in their gazes.

“Your honeymoon?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) played along, “Isn’t the ring beautiful?”

Thomas peered at it, “Yes, quite.” But the look on his face didn’t hold the same affirmation.

Will questioned, “How long have you two known each other?”

“Oh, it’s been years now,” (Y/N) laughed before the Doctor could exaggerate a false number. “I’d say nearly five.”

The brothers nodded, seemingly less confused by that answer.

“Should’ve seen the wedding,” the Doctor whistled. “Lasted for days. This one…” he jutted a thumb in (Y/N)’s direction, “Was very particular about how she wanted things done.”

“Oh, really?” (Y/N) scoffed, “I thought we knew who the drama queen was in this relationship.”

The Doctor shook his head, “She wanted everything chartreuse. Such an odd color, but what the bride wants, the bride gets. A fifty tiered cake, glow in the dark balloons, a live orchestra, a five course meal for the luncheon… the list goes on and on. Quite the bridezilla if you ask me…”

The brothers appeared amused by the talk. It seemed they could sense the Doctor wasn’t being overly truthful – probably by the furious look on (Y/N)’s face.

She screwed her lips and stared at him, trying to think of a comeback to shut him up. “Yes, well – if I hadn’t felt as rushed to do the wedding maybe we could’ve done a thoughtful, quiet ceremony.”

“Oh, nonsense,” the Doctor said, “You just couldn’t stand not being married to me for another day.”

“No, I do believe it was the hormones.” She put a few fingers to her temple, suddenly flushed, “I was all over the place when we first found out.”

All three of the men turned to look at her with bewilderment.

She leaned forward and whispered, “We’re pregnant, you see. He’s been scared stiff ever since I told him.” She took a deep breath, touching the Doctor’s arm. “The baby wants something sweet. Do you want something from the refreshments, dear?”

The Doctor was staring at her gob smacked. The surprise comeback definitely shut him up. He swallowed hard and lightly shook his head.

(Y/N) got up from the table, pretending to be off balanced by her growing stomach, and walking with a wide gait towards the platters behind them.

The Doctor blinked a few times, watching her go – his imagination running wild.

The voice of Will cut through his thoughts, “Um… congratulations are in order? Though it looks like you’re just as surprised by that information as we are.”

Tom and Will did look increasingly more confused the longer they talked.

The Doctor shook his head, sighing out a smile, “All right, chaps. Here’s the deal. We’re not actually married yet. Not even engaged.” He held up his ring finger, “This is a wedding ring I stole from a prince decades ago. This is all a rouse.”

Will looked like he was hiding a loud laugh, “Might I ask why you’re making it all up?”

“Because I like free stuff. And newly weds are usually entitled to free things on their honeymoon. I wanted to see what free stuff we could get here. And…” he peered around his shoulder to see where (Y/N) was at, “I want a gauge on what she might like. I do plan on proposing quite soon.”

The clarity seemed to relieve the brothers.

“So you made up a game to pretend you’re married to see how she’d feel about being married?” Tom said jovially.

“And perhaps to see if we should make this place a honeymoon spot. I expect the honeymoon phase to last years at least.” The Doctor sat back, growing lost in thought, “I want her to enjoy the places we visit.”

“Surely you’ll keep some a surprise, though,” Tom asked, clearly invested.

The Doctor brightened, “Oh, yes. I’ve had a lot of time to think it through. I did say I wanted it to last years.” He smiled sweetly, “I just want her to have fun.”

“So, the pregnancy is a rouse too?” Will asked.

The Doctor dimmed, “Yes. Yes, that was simply to get back at me for calling her a bridezilla.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Tom said, “Your secret is safe with us.”

“We’ll keep it up for you, if you’d like,” Will winked.

The Doctor smiled at them, grateful, “I do believe she likes playing the part.”

~~~

They were residing in their shared bedroom, getting ready for the night. (Y/N) stood in front of a full length mirror, dressed in a nightgown. She kept looking at herself from the side, holding her stomach.

The Doctor was on the bed watching her with his mind delved in lost thought. His eyes trailed her frame, taking in the sight and locking it within his memory. The way she was holding her stomach as if she were harboring a secret treasure there.

“Maybe I should stuff my shirt to look more pregnant for tomorrow,” she said aloud, “Make it more convincing.”

She could see the Doctor’s reflection in the mirror. The way he was just silently looking. His eyes had that wide and innocent look about them.

She took off the fake wedding ring for the night, admiring it for a few moments before placing it on the dresser.

Her steps were quiet as she joined him on the bed. Sitting side by side, she shared his silence. Within a few moments, he was reaching over to take her hand, holding it curiously within both of his.

He took his time to admire it, using his thumbs to trace her fingers and to make little circles around her knuckles.

(Y/N) stared at him doing this. Her voice came out in a whisper, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He took a calming breath, as if he were making a complicated decision. One that might upset her.

“Would you like to practice your telepathy?”

She was taken by slight surprise. Since discovering her Time Lord heritage, (Y/N) hadn’t explored much past Gallifreyan and general history. Being a Time Lord, she was born with the ability of telepathy. An ability she hadn’t explored much.

“Sure,” she whispered back.

The Doctor turned until they were facing each other cross legged on the bed. He seemed more apprehensive than she’d seen him in a long time. This version of him reminded her of when she first woke up.

“You’re going to read my mind,” he said, “All you have to do is close your eyes and reach…”

He took her wrists and guided her hands to his temples.

“Wait,” she said, “You want me to dive into your mind freely? Since when do you…”

“I trust you, (Y/N),” he said kindly, though his eyes were still innocent and fearful. “I am a master of concealing my mind; everything you’ll see is because I want you to.”

She nodded, placing her fingers in the correct spots.

“Concentrate,” he said, “Open your mind… and reach out.”

(Y/N) did. She felt a spark of connection between them, and a movie screen appeared in her mind. She gasped upon seeing a familiar sight.

It was herself holding hands with a beanpole of a man.

He had his brown suit and matching trench coat, complimenting the bright red shoes. He was guiding her down the halls of the TARDIS.

“It’s got to be one of these closets.”

(Y/N) giggled, emotion burning as it crept up her throat. This was the day they went looking for pajamas.

The Doctor skid to a door, yanking it open – it revealed a dark hole where the only sound was that of crickets. He pulled it closed immediately, “Definitely not that one.”

She laughed at him, a look of wonder still on her face.

This was the early days, (Y/N) thought.

The Doctor pulled on another door and found it stuck, “Right… must be this one.” He relied on his sonic screwdriver – smaller and blue-tipped – and managed to unstick the handle. After a heavy hit with his shoulder, “Ow…” the door flung open. A mountain of useless and forgotten items poured out, burying them.

Shoes, blankets, basketballs, tires, swordfish, ribbons, rubber ducks, amongst other things… covered them up.

(Y/N) bit back another giggle at the memory.

The slender hand of the Doctor shot through the pile of lost things. He pulled himself up, coughing, “(Y/N)!”

Seconds later a smaller hand appeared, “I’m here! I’m fine.”

The Doctor grimaced, “Rubbish closet. Never know what you’re going to find.” He grit his teeth, reaching down with his still buried hand, “But sometimes… if you’re lucky… you’ll come across exactly what you need.”

He yanked hard and from the depths came a bundle of flannel.

“Flannel pajamas?” she laughed.

He grinned his classic grin.

(Y/N) swallowed hard.

“Oh, yes!” he said in the way he used to, “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

The movie screen flashed forward to a different memory – a different thought. This time (Y/N) was sitting on the ramp of the TARDIS, arms scraped and folded limply around her. Her gaze was watery and unblinking.

Immediately (Y/N) knew what this was. They had their first rather traumatic adventure. Too many people were lost, too many of the good ones. It involved terrifying creatures and nearly losing her own life.

The Doctor came down to join her, fitting snuggly on the ramp. He had his suit jacket off and was placing it gently on her shoulders.

“How are you doing?”

She continued to stare off.

He responded with a quiet nod. “I’m sorry that happened. It shouldn’t have happened. Not to you.”

She still refused to answer.

It was peculiar seeing the memory from an outside perspective. (Y/N) was now able to look at the Doctor’s expression.

He was pained. Guilty. Trying too hard to hide his feelings – which of course meant you could see them very plainly.

(Y/N) had forgotten all the little freckles across his nose. Had forgotten the pout of his lips.

She had forgotten how dark his eyes could be. The deepest brown – so deep you almost felt like you were falling into the vastness of them.

Instantly she found she wanted to see his green eyes. They were so much lighter. Light like the sun reflecting off lake water. She could skip rocks on that shore all day long.

Her throat ached, her nose burned. She knew tears were probably close to falling.

She turned around in her mind’s eye. And in the distance was a dancefloor. People in fancy dress and lights flaring like it was a rave.

Right in the middle was a girl dancing to her hearts content. Her hair was flying as she moved like no one was watching. Her smile was bright and wide – beautiful. (Y/N) found herself jealous that the Doctor was highlighting such a woman. (Y/N) found she wanted to be like her. Carefree and stunning.

She had her dress bunched in one hand to keep herself from tripping. Her other hand waved around as she twirled. Her laugh was genuine and contagious. And trailing down to her feet, (Y/N) realized she was barefoot.

“She’s beautiful,” (Y/N) whispered.

The voice of the Doctor was directly in front of her when he replied with, “She’s you.”

Immediately (Y/N) recognized the outfit as her bridesmaid dress. The dancefloor was Amy and Rory’s wedding. And the reason she was barefoot was because her heel had broken.

It was bewildering – she looked so beautiful. Had she always looked so beautiful?

It struck her like a bolt of lightning.

This was how the Doctor saw her.

Carefree and stunning. Genuine and contagious.

“You’re such a sap,” she laughed, and her voice was full of tears. She longed to reach out and tell the girl – tell herself – how beautiful she was. How deserving she was. How much her life would turn out to be.

But she was being swept off to memories she had never seen before. But these couldn’t have been memories. They were thoughts.

The daydreaming thoughts of the Doctor. The things he explored when he was lost in thought.

She saw flashes of an entire life. A life with her and the Doctor.

Surprisingly, they were all mundane things.

Washing dishes and spilling soapy water on each other. Wrapping Christmas presents and trying to sneak a peek at each other’s contents. Settling in for bed and him kissing her goodnight. A walk in the park and feeding the ducks. Unpacking cardboard boxes. Cuddling on the couch. Roasting smores over a fire. Jumping in rain puddles. Blowing out birthday candles.

A pregnant (Y/N).

She was cradling her stomach, the Doctor painting the walls of a nursery. A mobile of stars and planets twirled above a cot.

Holding a newborn, the Doctor hugging them protectively.

(Y/N) finally opened her eyes, feeling dried tears on her cheeks. She quickly removed her fingers from his head. She found the Doctor already looking at her, quite like he had been watching her reaction that entire time.

“You think about all those things – all those times I catch you lost in thought.”

He smiled, “I once told you that I was capable of being domestic.” He cupped her face, “That I do think about those things too.”

She choked out a laugh, “You really are such a sap. Have I ever told you that?”

He matched her laugh, bowing his head to kiss her.

~~~

Amy and Rory were whistling and meandering the console room, waiting for (Y/N) to show. It was all incredibly suspicious. And (Y/N) told them so the moment she walked down the stairs.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Amy said, very unlike herself.

Rory cleared his throat, holding out a note, “We found this. It was uh… it was on the floor. But it has your name on it… so we thought… it was for you.”

The sigh that came from Amy spoke of her annoyance, “Yeah, the Doctor told us to give it to you.”

(Y/N) snorted, taking the piece of paper and reading aloud, “You never know what you’re going to find. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll come across exactly what you need.” She looked up, puzzled.

Rory bounced on his toes and Amy bit her lip.

“What does this mean?”

“You tell us,” Amy said, excitement building. “It’s a clue for you.”

(Y/N) read the note again, “You never know what you’re going to find?” She had heard that wording before. Was this the reason the Doctor showed her that particular memory? “The rubbish closet,” she laughed.

Upon finding the old rubbish closet, she found another piece of paper with the Doctor’s twirly handwriting. It was another clue. She was being led on a scavenger hunt. More like a goose chase with a place like the TARDIS.

“Careful you don’t get your book wet.”

She took off towards the library. There on a pool chair was another note.

“She heard you. Enough space for two now.”

She ran for the full sized kitchen, remembering how panicked she was after he told her that. Another clue was stuck to a carton of custard.

And she went around like that for over a dozen clues. Finally she reached an old room she used to visit when the Doctor tutored her on all things Gallifreyan. The artifact room.

Glass cases on pedestals held objects of great value. Some ancient, some dangerous, some heirlooms. (Y/N) walked through them, peering to see if the next clue was in one of the displays.

She was rather invested in the game now. She was curious to see the purpose behind it. Although judging by the actions of Amy and Rory… she had a pretty good guess.

Butterflies were erupting in her stomach, attempting to flutter up past her frantic hearts.

She looked into another display to find a bunch of wilting flowers. But they weren’t just any flowers.

It was Amy’s wedding bouquet.

And taped to the outside was another note, reading, “You know what they say about the person who catches the bouquet.”

She could have sworn her breathing stopped.

“(Y/N)?”

She closed her eyes and grinned so wide she knew her cheeks would hurt soon. She slowly turned around to face the nervous voice calling her name.

There stood the Doctor, bowlegged and strapping in his tweed. He wore a new bowtie in her favorite color. And held in his hand was a small velvet box. A deep tardis blue box. A ring box.

She took a shuddering breath, tears immediately welling her eyes.

“Hello,” he whispered, full of anxiety. But her earsplitting grin was making him feel better, “(Y/N)…” He blinked.

All he did was blink.

And she was gone.

Just vanished.

Vanished into thin air.

“(Y/N)?” he whirled around, hearts dropping to his feet. “(Y/N)!”

She was simply gone.

Vanished.

~~~

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[evebestt]

Hi there!To start I love reading your stories, they are captivating!!I wanted to ask if you could write the sequel to Champagne, I really liked the beginning!!

Hon, I think you were meant to send this to me, I kid you not two days before you sent this to me I’d started working on a beach honeymoon fic with a Pride and Prejudice scene. No prompt, I just wanted to write it, but then you sent me this and I swear it was meant to be. It took me a while to get there, but I believe it was meant to be!

Read here on AO3 or below. As always, send me a message or an ask to submit a prompt.

Chapter One. Can be read as a stand-alone.

Champagne (2/2): Walking on the Waves

Chapter title comes from Walking on the Waves by Tide Lines, which has been my favorite song for months now. I highly recommend listening to the song, as it’ll show you what good, pure love feels like

~

You were married in the winter during the break between semesters, a charm cast over the ground to keep you warm even as you walked over the glittering snow. 

Farah had been a vision in white, her hair softly curled and her nails painted a powder blue, and Saul at her side as best man. She’d worn the necklace you’d given her months ago, and both it and your ring on her finger looked so perfect that you could’ve wept.

The ceremony had been small, and the reception had been a simple dinner and drinks with friends, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Everything was just as it should have been with you and your bride, and you thought there could be nothing more perfect in the world.

Until Ben and Saul, with a magic all of their own (and plenty of strings pulled), gave you their wedding present of a week’s honeymoon on a private beach, somewhere down south where there was nothing but eternal sunshine and miles of fine, white sand.

And now like a dream, you stood in your own little hut on those miles of white sand, admiring the new ring on your finger — a simple gold band with runes etched along the outside for blessings of love and happiness, imbued with magic so that it would never break and never be lost.

Entranced by your ring, you didn’t notice Farah until she wrapped her arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Are you ready?”

“To go lay in the sun all day?” You tore your eyes away from the ring and turned your head to look at her. “Absolutely.”

She smiled, then gave you another quick kiss. “And if I was asking if you were ready to spend the rest of your life with me?”

You turned in her arms, wrapping your own around her neck. “I already said ‘I do’, didn’t I?”

“You did — I remember that moment very well.” She linked her arms around your back, giving you a look of fond amazement. “Will remember it very well for the rest of my days.”

“Well, then,” you said, reaching up to run your finger along her jaw. “How about we go make some more memories we’ll remember for the rest of our lives?”

“Cheesy line,” she murmured, but you didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks before she leaned in for a long, sweet kiss.

You didn’t have to go far — the hut sat just a few paces from the beach, and in just a few more you were on the shore, just far enough away to spread your blanket without fear of the tide, but close enough you could taste the salt in the air and watch the sand roll in the waves.

You watched her tuck the corner of the blanket underneath the basket you had brought, the hem of her dark red coverup fluttering around the tops of her thighs – a sight you couldn’t help but admire.

 You were still admiring when she straightened, and she raised an eyebrow in response to where your gaze was, making you grin and wiggle yours suggestively.

“Let me see what’s under there.”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You know full well.”

“Maybe I do, but I’ve never seen you in a swimsuit, have I?”

She chuckled lightly, and with a look you could only describe as cheeky, she reached for the hem of her cover up, crossing her arms as she pulled it over her head.

You imagine she put the cover-up somewhere, but you simply didn’t care, not when she stood there in a navy one-piece, cut low enough to show generous cleavage and a hint of abdomen. The cutouts along her sides showed off the skin of her waist and promised to show the smooth expanse of her back, and make for easy removal, when the time comes to it, you thought.

It hit you suddenly, with her standing there in front of you like a dream — Farah Dowling, your wife, and you’d get to call her that for the rest of your days. With her long, smooth legs, her sculpted shoulders, her kind, fierce heart and her brilliant and sharp mind, she was yours. Her body, her heart, her soul, all yours, just as you were hers.

“You are…” you had to pause, the awe of your wife heavy on your tongue, “a miracle.”

The very tops of her cheeks flushed, but still she sauntered over to you, running her finger up your neck and chin. “I’ll need help with sunscreen — think you can handle that, charmer?”

You bit back a grin, then let your hands settle on her waist, teasing the skin there as you slid your hands up her sides to her back, toying with the tie of her suit. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to handle you, but I am certainly up to the challenge.”

It took you both much longer than it should have, considering the number of times you both were distracted by wandering hands and kisses placed wherever you could reach, but eventually you both had sunscreen on, and the rolling blue water of the ocean was calling. You pulled Farah by her hand, and you both ran towards the water, giggling as it splashed around you and gasping as it landed cool on your stomach compared to the heat of the sun.

The water was warm, really, once you were in, and so clear you could see the bottom easily, the sand rippled with the never-ending waves. There was only sand where you were standing, but you could see a few shells and rocks jutting from the sand a little ways away, and you itched to swim out farther and see what treasures you could find.

But your pull to Farah was always stronger, and you turned your head to study her instead. She was staring at the water, a faint smile on her lips as she slowly skimmed her hands over the top of the water, obviously entranced by the shimmer of the sun and the pattern her hands made in the water.

And seeing your opportunity, you reached for her legs and pulled them out from under her, sending her splashing into the water with a yelp before she was submerged.

She came up with a gasping breath, still submerged to her neck, then opened her eyes to glare at you, but with a spark in them that told you the game was on.

With a giggle you turned to run, but you were slow in the water, and Farah was close behind. You managed to dance out of her grasp with a shrieking laugh, but then she plunged her arms in the water and sent a wave towards you, soaking your back and splashing the back of your neck. It made you laugh, even as you gasped at the surprise, and turned to give her a playful look as you bounded further away.

You were quick, but her legs were long, and she started to catch up. You feinted one way, managing to dodge her reach, but Farah never fell for the same trick twice. You tried to feint again, but she was already moving the other way, and before you could leap out of her reach she had wrapped her arms around your waist and you were dunked under the water with ease, the clear ring of her laughter the last thing you heard before you went under.

You surfaced with a gasp, Farah still laughing, and it was your turn to glare playfully at her, wiping the water out of your eyes.

“Don’t start a game you can’t win, darling,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Who’s to say I’ve lost?” you retorted and reached forward to grab at her legs.

You splashed around in the shallows for a while longer, laughing the entire time, before you’d completely worn each other out and dragged yourselves back to shore. You collapsed onto your blanket, dripping wet, and not a care in the world as you instinctively moved closer to each other, catching your breath with your arm slung around her waist.

“I haven’t done anything like that in years,” she said, chuckling a little as she finally caught her breath. “You had me using old tactical techniques.”

“Is that how you treat your new wife?” you teased, digging your fingers into her side a little to tickle her.  “Using old military techniques on me?”

“When my new wife starts the war,” she laughed, squirming under your touch. “Then I’ll do what I need to finish it.”

You hummed, and then pushing on her shoulder with your hand, you sat up and swung your legs over your hips to straddle her. “Do you have that attitude about everything?” you asked, trailing your hands from her shoulders down to her chest and stomach.

“Is that a challenge?” she asked, her eyes darkening as she settled her hands on your hips.

You smirked, and you leaned down until your lips nearly brushed hers, playing your fingers along the string that led to the tie of her suit. “Do your best, soldier.”

~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, you and Farah walked further down your stretch of beach, eventually coming across a patch that was filled with shells, rocks, and other things washed up by the sea for as far as the eye could see. You picked over it together for a while, pointing out things of interest, but eventually you sat down at a spot particularly thick with shells while Farah walked on, curious what else there was.

It was over an hour before you saw Farah’s form in the distance again, her head still down as she combed the beach, and her slow, meandering walk made you smile. With everything your lives were, it was rare you both had the time to move so slowly, to take slow walks on the beach simply to see what you could find. 

And as you watched her stop and bend down to pick something up, you vowed to cherish moments like that for the rest of your life.

“Did you have fun without me?” she asked teasingly when she reached your side, sitting down besides you.

“Yes,” you said dryly, “and that’s why I married you, I have the most fun when you’re not around.”

She snorted and nudged your shoulder, and you nudged her back before speaking again. “What about you, did you find anything interesting?”

Farah held out her hand, and a perfect sand dollar sat on her palm — not a chip or crack on it, and bleached by the sun so that it was hardly stained, leaving it a near perfect white.

“Look at that,” you said smiling, taking it from her to examine it.

“I found it not too far from where I turned around.” She leaned back on her hands, leaning closer as you turned it over in your hands. “Sitting there half buried, like it was waiting to be found.”

“Perhaps it was.” You turned it over again, staring at the petals that spanned out from the center. “I think they’re meant to be lucky, too.”

“A good omen for our marriage, then?”

You grinned at her, leaning in to bump your nose against hers. “I think being crazily in love with you is the good omen, but I’ll take this one, too.”

You felt her smile against your mouth, and then she kissed you properly, light and chaste but you couldn’t help but sigh and sink into the embrace.

“We should put it somewhere,” she said after the kiss had broken, your forehead resting on hers while she had stroked your back. “In our house, somewhere prominent. Our own good luck symbol.”

And you grinned, love swelling impossibly larger in your chest. “I like that. Like iron under the hearth to bless a home — a sand dollar on our mantle to bless our marriage.”

“Our own little tradition,” she murmured, sitting back and gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “What about you?” she asked suddenly, and you looked at her curiously. “Did you find anything fun here?”

You grabbed the shell you had set aside, turning it over and showing her the faintly purple mother-of-pearl on the inside. “A simple looking shell, but it’s nearly the color your eyes turn when you do magic.”

Farah’s features softened as she took the shell from you, holding it almost reverently. “Really?”

You nodded. “Your eyes have a bit more blue to them, and they… shimmer more, I guess. They don’t just stay one color. But that shell nearly captures it,” you said, gesturing to it.

She stared at it a moment longer, and then looked up at you, giving you a small, sweet smile. “You know what my eyes look like from memory?”

And then you understood her reverence, and you reached out and stroked her cheek. “I do. How could I forget something so beautiful?”

She nearly melted, and then crossed the small distance to kiss you again, an I love you spoken even more loudly than words.

 When the kiss broke, you still leaned against each other, unwilling to separate even that much even as she looked back at the shell. She smiled faintly as she studied it, running her thumb lightly around the edge, and her fine features, soft and smooth in the golden light, made your heart flutter.

 “Remember this moment the next time we start to bicker, Ms. Dowling,” you teased her, and she snorted in response before you looked at her curiously, realizing something. “Or is it Mrs. Dowling now?”

“I suppose it is,” she said almost dreamily, then cocked her head at you. “And what about you? Are you Mrs. Dowling now, too?”

“Mrs. Dowling,” you said thoughtfully, thinking of it for yourself. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Maybe I’ll have a plaque made for your door. Though it may be too confusing if there’s two of us.”

“Well, now, that doesn’t mean I want to give up the name entirely.” You pouted at her, and she smiled, leaning in until her nose nearly brushed yours.

“Then when shall I call you ‘Mrs. Dowling’?”

You smiled too, and leaned even closer. “Call me “Mrs. Dowling” during moments like these — when we’re completely, perfectly, incandescently happy.”

“Isn’t that from a movie?” she whispered, smile never fading, and you crinkled your nose in a silent giggle.

“It could be. When did you watch that?”

“Years ago, with Terra. I rather liked that scene.”

“Well, then.” You gently pushed her shoulder until she laid back and you could straddle her hips, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Mrs. Dowling,” you murmured, and committing to the scene, you pressed another kiss to her cheek. “Mrs. Dowling.”

She beat you to the next one, softly brushing your lips with hers as she murmured one last, “Mrs. Dowling.”

You lay together on the sand for quite some time, then, watching the sun set and the light fade across the ocean until the moon rose, bringing liquid silver with it. Only when the breeze became chilled did you retreat to the hut, exchanging soft kisses as you drifted towards the bedroom.

And later that night, when you laid tangled together in the sheets, so close that you didn’t know where the other ended and began, moving together like the crest and ebb of the waves outside, she pressed her lips to your breast, just above your heart, and whispered words meant only for your to hear.

“My love. My only.”

Her words made a home in your heart, and like a tattoo against your skin, you knew they’d remain there forever.

“My love,” you murmured back, and felt her sigh. “My only.”

You felt the words even more strongly than the vows you made – it was another promise, an assurance of love and the depth of your feelings, a declaration that she held your heart, just as you held hers. She was your love, your only, and would be for the rest of your days.

And there was nothing more you could ever need.

[readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure]

X Y 7 19 Have fun 😋

Thanks for the prompt, Anon. I have been having fun. 💕

I had to take some liberties with this one I'm afraid. The prompt game was only supposed to be for one letter and one number, and try as I might, I just couldn't get prompts X and Y to work together. So, I chose letter X and number 19. I hope that's okay. Also, I am assuming this prompt is for Billy Russo.

This one turned out a lot sappier than intended, and ended up being smut-lite. Probably still not safe for work though.

X. Wedding night 19. 'I wasn't expecting this.'

--------------------------------------

You and Billy couldn’t keep your hands off each other – so much so that you had almost given the hotel receptionist quite a show. Thankfully you both managed to restrain yourselves until you got to your room.

Though, opening the door with Billy’s arms around your waist and his lips on your neck was a bit of a challenge.

‘Billy,’ you giggled as you finally got the key card in the slot. Billy was unrepentant, but he did back off as you pushed the door open… only to suddenly scoop you up into a bridal carry.

Which made sense, seeing as you were his bride and all.

You kissed him sweetly as he carried you over the threshold. And then you kissed him not so sweetly. Billy groaned into the kiss, and you heard the door slam as he kicked it shut behind you both.

He carried you into the bedroom and laid you gently down onto the bed. It was covered in rose petals and you giggled again as you ran your hands through them.

‘I wasn’t expecting this,’ said Billy, hovering over you, an adoring look in his eyes.

‘You didn’t ask for rose petals?’ you asked, confused. He had been the one to book the room.

Billy shook his head fondly. ‘No, I asked for those. I meant this.’ He took your left hand in his and ran his thumb over the ring he had put there mere hours ago. ‘I never expected to get married – never wanted it… but then you came along.’ He smiled, his eyes shining with love and unshed tears that he would never admit to. ‘I never expected to love someone the way I love you.’

Well, after that declaration, you just had to kiss him again.

‘I love you, too,’ you said against his lips as your kisses started to go from short and sweet to heated and messy. ‘Now get this dress of me, Mr Russo. I think it’s time we consummate our marriage.’

Billy chuckled and slid his hand around your back to reach the zip. ‘As you wish, Mrs Russo.’

[insomniacinserts]

Kise mother fucking Ryouta doesn’t get enough love in the show and it makes me so sad😞.

We need to send y/n to our cute puppy, give ryouta cuddles for me🙂

It was winter in Japan, everything pretty was freezing over or dying. Except- “Y/NCCHI! THERE YOU ARE I WAS LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU” a warm heavy body collided with yours, nearly knocking you and your blond boyfriend to the ground “careful ryouta. How long have you been out here. Your not even wearing a scarf you’ll catch a cold” ryouta pouts and shakes his head “none of my scarves went with my outfit.” He pulls back from you and steps away to show you his outfit.

You scan his body from his pretty styled hair to the shoes you bought for him for your two year anniversary as an official couple, “ryouta, aho! That jacket is too thin and those shoes aren't meant for this kind of weather. You're going to get sick. Don't be careless.” it wasn't your first thought to pull your scarf off and wrap it around your idiot boyfriends neck, but it seems that your arms and hands have a mind of their own. You're glad you did though because Ryouta beamed up at you and leaned up slightly to kiss the side of your mouth, “i wanted to look pretty for you y/ncchi.” Ryouta's eyes glazed slightly and his cheeks tinted pink but he lifted his arm to cover his face and looked away “Ryouta, aho.” you sigh and step closer to him so you could pry his arm away from his watery eyes and pink face “why are you crying.” you wipe his tears with your thumbs and leave your palms on his cheeks to warm him “i don't want you to leave me because i don't look pretty enough for you.” there was a pang in your chest and you feel your heart clench “who said you weren't pretty enough for me?” ryouta looks away ashamed but your hands on the sides of his face pull him back to face you “you'll always look pretty enough for me. Even when your face is wrinkled and your hair is grey, you'll be my ryouta kise, my model husband forever. But only if you say yes.” your heart is banging against your ribs and your mind is running with reasons why he'd reject your proposal but those reasons fly out of your brain when ryouta looks up at you with wide puppy eyes “husband?” it's whispered like he doesn't believe it “husband's” you say firmly, as soon as you do ryouta's lips are on yours and his arms are wrapped around your shoulders.

“I'll be your husband y/ncchi. Of course i'll be your husband”

__________extras!!__________

“WAH THE RING IS SO PRETTY” you smiled from your place by the kitchen counter as Ryouta rolls around happily on the carpet staring at his new ring “it's pretty don't you think y/ncchi?” he sits up and dashes to your side “i think it's lovely ryouta.” you can't help the warm smile spread on your face so you bury it in the younger's hair. The two of you had a beautiful ceremony, everything had gone smoothly, your parents had loved each other, all of your friends were there and they all looked beautiful. Kuroko was Ryouta's best man, Aomine had been yours and hed behaved the entire wedding mostly because you promised to treat him to lunch whenever he wanted and didn't make him come to the reception(which he did) momoi was the flower girl. You swore to yourself to never forget the moment you saw your husband come through the doors, he had looked so beautiful in the white suit, so pretty that during the reception you asked ryouta's mom to send you a picture of her son in his suit, once you got it you immediately printed it out and stuck it in your wallet.

“So what are we going to do now y/ncchi?” ryouta had wormed his way in between you and the counter and was now resting back against your chest, you hum and he looks up at you with stars in his eyes and a big smile on his face

“I say we get a baby!”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Ten

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, Language, Violence, 

Word Count: 2K

A/n: Okay y’all THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH FOR 10K FOLLOWERS IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MCUH OMG Anyway ahem here is part 10 and I hope you enjoy! We’re gonna have a more intense part coming next but until then, enjoy!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

“We make for Asgard.”

~*~

“You look lovely. The colours of Asgard suit you well,” Thor says, his eyes raking over your figure from behind.

Adorning your body is a soft linen gown, the colour of cream. It is cut low in the front, a style Thor assured you is common in his kingdom, and has many different folds and layers to it, making it flow with every step you take.

The fabric itself is lightweight, and the straps lie thinly on your shoulders. The waistline is decorated with gleaming golden gems and is cinched rather tightly.

Over your shoulders is a dark red cape, the same colour as Thor’s.

Your hair is tied up away from your face intricately and elegantly, and a dainty diamond necklace rests around your neck.

You turn to face him, a deep feeling of unease settling in your stomach.

“What is to happen now?” You wonder aloud, eyes fluttering past his face and around the chambers that he’s deemed to be yours for the time being.

“Now we wait. The kings should be here soon, and then we will inform them of the letter you received. I promise you’ll be safe here, Petal.” He cups your cheeks and you swallow hard, nervous about the change in his attitude towards you.

“Thor?” You ask softly, taking a half-step backward in an attempt at removing yourself from his grip.

He surges forward, one hand dropping from your face to wrap around your waist as his lips crash against yours in a fierce and dominating kiss.

Your heart races in your chest and you shove against his face, trying to force him away from you.

Helplessness fills you as you realize that you’ll never be able to overpower him, and dread settles in your gut as he pushes you back until you’re pressed against the wall.

Your muffled cries for help, for him to stop, fall on deaf ears as his lips continue their assault against yours, prying yours open to give his tongue access to your mouth.

Thinking quick, you grip his bottom lip and bite down as hard as you can, drawing blood and successfully making him pull away from you.

He jumps back, one hand coming up to his mouth while you scramble back and away from him, chest heaving and eyes full of betrayal.

His jaw clenches and he takes a step towards you, only to stop when the doors to your chambers burst open.

“(Y/n)!” A familiar voice calls, two men rushing into the room and searching for you.

The tension in the room is palpable and the two Kings pick up on it instantly, their guards raising as they see the way you’re cowering from the blond King before you.

“Are we interrupting something?” Steve asks, his voice ringing with authority.

“No,” you say quickly, regaining your composure and squaring your shoulders as the words of the Valkyrie ring in your ears.

“Thor was just taking his leave,” you say pointedly, staring the King down for a long moment until he nods, bows then spins on his heel and leaves without a word.

You take a deep breath, power and fear chasing each other through your veins while your heart races in your chest.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Steve asks softly, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand. You yank it back towards your body, levelling him with a glare.

“If my purpose was solely to bear children, then why are you here if I failed?” The blond glances over at his husband, unsure of how he should address this.

“It is obviously not a secret. I have been threatened even since my departure, and the truth has been brought to my attention. So I ask again, why are you here?” James takes a careful step towards you, and then another, and another until he is standing just directly in front of you.

You keep your shoulders squared and your head held high, refusing to back down.

“(Y/n), there are things we must tell you... things we have not been completely honest about... things that involve our union, and our actions towards you. Will you allow us time to be honest with you?” You swallow hard but nod, wanting nothing more than the truth after all this time in the dark.

James takes your hand delicately in both of his and ushers you to the bed, sitting down beside you while Steve sits on your other side.

The brunet speaks first.

“We were told... by our council that we needed to find a wife. When they heard of our plans to join the two kingdoms of the North and wed each other... they tried to find any way to stop it. But upon seeing our power they relented until they realized that our reign would end if we did not have a queen.

“They gave us a timeframe to find a queen. One that could give us heirs and continue the lineage of both of us. We were presented with many women but you... you stood out from the many faces we saw.”

You frown, brows drawn together tightly as you ponder this.

“My purpose... right from the beginning was nothing more than what you had told me. What you said was true. What I was told is nothing but the truth,” you whisper to James, fighting back the tears that prick at your eyes.

Steve shakes his head, leaning closer to engage in the conversation. “No. Your purpose was... is to be our wife. A queen to our people and the mother of our children. You are meant to rule alongside us, not be behind or beneath us. You are our equal, although we have not treated you as such.”

You sniffle, shaking your head as if trying to shake your feelings away.

“Why have you treated me the way that you have? Why? What have I done to deserve such hostility?”

The two exchange long glances before James sighs and takes your hand, leading it to the thin scar at the base of his skull.

“Someone has operated on me. Altered me in a way that makes me hostile towards you and Steven. We do not know who, but we know that they are close enough to be near me without raising suspicion. I will never be able to apologize enough for my actions. I have hurt you far more than I ever could have imagined myself capable of. But with the help of doctor Banner, we were hoping to have more clues as to who is responsible for this. However, he is still in quite an unstable condition.”

You swallow hard, this new information having you beyond overwhelmed.

“Who would conspire against you in such a way? Who would have such hatred in their heart for the two of you that they would take it out on me?” The two kings sigh, their hearts heavy and their eyes filled with sadness.

“We do not know. But one thing is certain: we will not rest until we figure out who it is and until they are brought to justice.”

~*~

The two Kings settle in the guest chambers for the night, having insisted that you get your own space and that you are welcome to join them if you feel so inclined.

Your mind is still in shambles, thoughts scattered and emotions all over the continent as you prepare for bed.

A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts and you softly call for them to enter, your guard raising in an instant.

“How may I help you, Your Majesty?” You ask, jaw clenched tightly.

Thor takes a deep breath then lets it out, pacing slowly around your chambers.

“I stepped very far out of line, (Y/n). I let my emotions get the better of me and I was foolish. I apologize sincerely for my actions.” You watch him with furrowed brows, not sure if you should trust him.

“You have... entranced me. Bewitched me. Your husbands have not treated you fairly and, even in the short time that I've known you, I can tell that you are a woman deserving of the world. And if the world cannot be given to you then you deserve everything in it. And yet here you are, cowering from your own kingdom because they failed to protect you.” You want to interrupt. To tell him that he is not aware of the extent of the trauma that the Kings themselves have faced, but you hold your tongue instead.

“I can only hope that one day you will be able to forgive what has transpired today. For I value your company and your companionship and I would be devastated to lose it in any way. However, I will not blame you if you were to push me away. I was out of line and I allowed myself to be weak in a moment when I should have been strong. You needn’t give me an answer tonight, but I am offering my sincerest apologies. While you are here the Palace is yours. Anything you require will be brought to you promptly.”

He’s quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, his eyes on the ground.

“I bid thee goodnight, and I hope pleasant dreams find you tonight.” He turns to leave and you sigh, shaking your head.

“Thor, wait.” He does, turning back to look at you with those soft blue eyes of his.

“I appreciate and accept your apology. I do not look at you any differently because of what transpired, and I am grateful that you came to explain it. I appreciate your friendship and I am glad to have found solace in you, and it would be a shame to squander it over something so trivial.” He smiles, relief and happiness plain as day on his face.

“Good. Thank you for your understanding, (Y/n). Goodnight.” He leaves without another word and you put your head in your hands, beyond confused and frustrated with the feelings stirring inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that the Asgardian King wasn’t attractive. And he has been a friend in times when you’ve otherwise had none.

Shaking the intrusive thoughts out of your head, you exit your chambers and pad softly down the hall, stopping in front of the chambers that have been set aside for your husbands.

You knock twice, butterflies finding a home in your belly as you wait for one of them to allow you entrance.

The door gets pulled open and James stands in front of you, the formal look on his face dropping to give way to a soft smile.

“May I join the two of you tonight?” You ask quietly, looking between him and Steve. The blond looks on eagerly from his spot on the bed, nodding his head quickly.

“Of course, My love.” You bow your head in thanks and enter the room, oblivious to the eyes following your every move from a dark corner of the hallway.

The door shuts behind you but you continue to the bed, crawling on next to Steve while James extinguishes the lanterns lighting the room.

Steve makes room for you in the centre of the bed, pushing the blankets aside to allow you to get comfortable. James climbs on behind you, waiting until you’re settled to get comfortable himself.

Neither of the Kings touch you. No, they stay a respectable distance away.

“I am not so angry that I will not allow my husbands to embrace me,” you say softly, eyes closed as the events of the day catch up to you.

You’re then being held on either side by strong arms and right then and there, in that very moment, you feel the safest you have ever felt in your life.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (4)

Am I doing this right? I mostly do write this when I am between the state of sleep and awareness. Hope you enjoy this.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 3)

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PART 4

Marinette came to a dungeon cell with two other prisoners. One of them was awake and he looked vaguely familiar. The other had an ugly red helmet that didn’t help with the headache she had.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked the handsome stranger with beautiful green eyes, her throat a little dry.

Wait. Handsome?

No bad Marinette. Don’t fall for fellow prisoners, no matter how cute he looks. Oh Kwamis, she was already screwed.

He still hadn’t replied. Maybe he didn’t understand French. She tried to ask again in another language before her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of footsteps. She faked unconsciousness. Later, she heard the iron door open. She looked through the tiniest slits of her eyes she could muster while the two held a staring/glaring match. Oh shit, that’s the fame Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s, head of the League of Shadows, and the boy she was glaring at had some resemblance to her, so he must be her son, Dennis? Daniel? Damon?

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

Ohh..Damian. Where had she heard that name before?

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Ouch, that hurts. Well, Damian, just because I forgot your name does not mean you can call me a little girl. I can also kill you very easily and painfully.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Red Helmet, Jason, is officially not going on her hit list for his atrocious fashion choices. But that red monstrosity still needs to go.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Marinette felt her hair being yanked. A little pain was expected but the really sharp claws digging into her scalp was not. Making her cry and tear up.

”I am so sorry, kit.” Plagg whispered in the kwami language, loosening his claws.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Damian growled out.

Geez, thanks for the compliment, it’s not like you ever had a tiny cat dig its claws into your scalp out of surprise. (Damian once had a kitten thrown at his head and if he knew about Plagg, he would have been sympathetic.) Marinette started begging for mercy, hoping they would buy the helpless girl out of the suit that is ill-suited for the job she had been chosen for and had no idea on how to escape.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.”

Oh kwamis, what did she ever do to have such a picky groom? The more he insults her, the less she wants to be married to him.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection."

Great, another reason to stop her mother from killing a senile old man.

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

So that’s where she heard it from. The boy was the son of the daughter of a guy who leads a secret order of assassins and a man that owns a multi-million business. How even did a billionaire meet an assassin, ends up in bed with her and lives? Something to think about for later. She quieted down her sobs, (beat that acting, Rossi) kept her voice low to hatch out a plan with Plagg in the kwami language while the mother-son duo bickered.

“Hey, Plagg before you go, you think I can do that thing, the one which your one of your past holders from Japan can do.”

“You have a lot of potential for destruction but you have not used the ring for a long time yet so I am not sure.”

“I will give it a go anyways. Nothing to lose after all. See you later, Plagg.” Marinette smiled, one that drove fear into the hearts of even the bravest of people. Plagg returned it, already loving the new Guardian before zipping out of the cell to do some scouting. Using the enhanced strength the French superheroine got from prolonged use of the Miraculous, she yanked the chains of the walls and wrapped them around Talia’s neck, cutting off her air supply.

The League of Assassins thought that they could kidnap her and get away with it. But they were no match for the daughter of Sabine Cheng, the deadly Blue Reaper. A high ranking member from the group of assassins and mercenaries called the Guild of Night, who had semi-retired. Kidnapping her was a bad move to make as it meant they had declared war on the Guild, despite the reason behind her abduction having a completely different intention.

She whispered as such to the older woman in her tight grip, making sure the League would know how much they had fucked up. After dropping the limp body, she took a deep breath and tried channeling some of her energy for what she was about to do.

Well, here goes nothing.

She breathed out on the shackles, turning it to rust.

Success!

She introduced herself as Lady and concentrated the energy from before into her hand, forming inky black orbs of destruction in order to free her fellow captives. She felt a little drained from doing magic out of the suit and tried not to show it. Plagg returned, informing her of where the Ra’s and the Pits were. She grinned at the thought of showing old Ra’s who the boss is and made sure he regretted ever messing with her. She explained about Plagg as vaguely as she can, no need to let anyone know about the miraculous than necessary. Sure her plan sounds insane but the boys don’t know who they were with.

She would worry about that curse after she got out of Nanda Parbat. Although she could probably find something in the grimoire to reverse it, she was still an amateur at magic so it was best to have a professional to take care of it. Marinette didn’t want to be with such an asshole, no matter how striking he looks in those regal robes.

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Picking off the League assassins, one by one was easy especially in her transformed state. She hadn’t appraised her suit properly but from what she had seen, it wasn’t like Chat Noir’s leather get-up. She was armoured in vital areas and her colour scheme was mainly black with green accents. There were vials that were probably poisons and pouches which she decided to look at later. She still had a long braid as a tail from her brief stint as Lady Noire and she wondered why her suit was different. While hiding in a niche she found, she called the bakery via the comm in one of her various pouches.

“Hello?”

“Papa, it’s me, Marinette. Do you know where Maman is?”

“She went out of Paris, talking about how this League must pay. I think she is meeting up with several of her old friends. Are you alright, my little blossom? I know you can take care of yourself but I worry.” The relief in Tom’s voice was palpable. However, she was right and the Guild was going to war against the League. Marinette was adored by nearly everyone in the Guild due to her strangely bubbly and cheery personality in the harsh and brutal lifestyle.

“I am fine, Papa. Did Maman use the Horse to leave? And how are my friends?” She knew they might be in a panic after her disappearance.

“I think she did. I didn’t see Kalki when I went to feed the kwamis. Your friends panicked when they found out you were kidnapped. But they are fine now, mostly worried about you. Took care of some akumas and senti monsters by themselves. I think your fencer friend, Kagami, knows more about the League than she lets on.” Of course, she does. Her mother was a member of the Guild before being blinded due to a mission. Kagami and her actually first met during a reunion party of sorts.

“Thank you, Papa. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up and dialed the personal phone number her mother uses that only Marinette and her father knows about. She waited for the call to connect, trying to think of ways to stop her mother from storming into the League’s base of operation.

“Maman, it’s me. I know you want to attack the League right this minute. But I have a better plan. Can you get Tikki’s earrings from Alix? We can use them and the ring to destroy the Lazarus Pits. Make them really angry.” She peeked out of the niche she was hiding in. She had been there for a while and needed to move to gain some grounds.

“Where are you? And are you okay?” Panic and worry filled her usually composed mother’s voice.

“I am somewhere in Nanda Parbat and I am fine. I was nearly married off to Talia’s son but I am not now. I think.” Marinette replied. Better to rip that band-aid off before she showed up with her would-have-been-husband. She jumped out of the niche and looked

“Kalki, Full Gallop. Okay, we will talk about the ‘nearly married’ part later. What was this plan to destroy the Lazarus Pits?” Sabine thought she was already used to Marinette’s brand of craziness that was her normal but apparently, not.

“I am currently on my way there. Plagg said we need Tikki to get rid of them. Since the League pissed me off and by extension you and the rest of the Guild, I thought our first move against them is to destroy the Pits and a trail of bodies. By the way, can you get some cheese for Plagg?” Marinette ran through the halls, knocking out some poor sod with a whack on the head.

Silence. She thought Sabine had hung up when-

“Voyage. Alix, where are you? We need Tikki for one of Marinette’s insane plans. And Marinette, stay safe, sweety, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Bye, Maman. See you there.”

Marinette turned another corner, the last one before the path that leads to the entrance where the Lazarus Pits were. She only managed to find it with Plagg’s voice in her head, whispering directions and Tikki’s luck. Unfortunately, the luck ran out because the entrance had a lot of guards who had spotted her.

Crap.

She hoped her mother would get here soon. Thankfully, being transformed gave her a boost and would help her to hold her ground for a while.

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Damian and Red Hood followed the trail of unconscious bodies and sounds of fights, trying to find Lady. Damian was impressed at the level of her skills to defeat many of the League’s assassins although he could probably do better. They relied on his memory to find the Lazarus Pits which was their best bet to finding her as she claimed to be able to destroy them. If Lady possessed such powers, they must find out whether she is a threat to the world or not. And also break the infernal curse they have.

Red Hood was silent mostly. He made a few jabs about how kick ass his ‘bride’ was and how the current Robin should not let her get away. Damian tried really hard not to just maim his adopted brother and also ignore that little fluttering in his chest that happened every time they saw an unconscious assassin left behind by Lady. The sounds of fighting got louder as they got nearer to the entrance. They turned the final corner to see Lady fighting against the guards who outnumbered her. But she seemed to be doing fine against them. Mostly.

One had slipped through her defenses and nearly stabbed her in the back if it weren’t for Damian grabbing one of Red Hood’s guns and shooting a rubber bullet to the neck. He jumped into the fight, grabbing the fallen assassin’s sword and taking out the knife he got from his mother. Jason joined in too, not going to let the two teens have all the fun.

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“Thanks for the save, Al Ghul but I don’t know why you bothered when me being dead would solve your curse problem.” Lady said as the guards laid around them and they tried to catch their breath.

“It’s Wayne. I go by Wayne these days. Being an Al Ghul is not something I learned to be proud of. And as much as I don’t want this curse, your death is not worth that price.” he replied, “Although, I have to wonder why you would choose to die rather than live.”

She chuckled, “Okay, Wayne, to answer your question. Petty teenage drama makes death much more preferable. On top of that, I have responsibilities that I was practically forced into for doing one little act of kindness.” Her tone was joking but there was a touch of bitterness in it. It made Damian want to find out what caused it. Red Hood looked at her in concern. Lady went down the stairs, ignoring their reactions to her words. They followed her, not wanting to lose sight of her again.

The Lazarus Pits emitted a green glow that lit up the cave and cast strange shadows on the walls. At the edge of the glowing toxic green waters was a woman in dark blue clothing and strangely enough wearing sunglasses. Strapped to her sides were two Dao, ancient Chinese swords. She wore a vindictive expression on her face as she stood staring at the green lake, likely to kill anyone who gets in her way. Damian didn’t recognize the woman as part of the League but taking no chances, he got into a fighting stance and Hood did the same. Lady calmly approached the woman. He reached out to grab her to stop her suicidal nature when she shocked him by speaking to the blue-clad assassin in French,

“Hey, Maman, sorry I am late. I had a little trouble with the guards upstairs. You have Tikki?”

Lady’s mother rushed to hug her, “灵儿 (líng er), I am just glad you are alright. I knew you could handle yourself.”

How the hell did Lady’s mother get to the Lazarus Pits faster than them and snuck past several vigilant guards? Before Damian could question further, a red blur appeared and went to Lady’s face, hugging her cheek. It appeared to be the same size as Plagg but was red, looked like a bug and had a black dot on its forehead.

“Oh, Marinette, you are alright. I was so worried when your mother showed up, saying you were kidnapped and needed my earrings to escape.” Unlike Plagg’s nasally voice, her voice was sweet and shrill.

So, my bride’s name is Marinette. Such a unique name for an intriguing girl.

Wait what?

Wayne, stop thinking such ridiculous notions. That is probably the curse working. Resist against it. He will not be ensnared in the traps of such magic. He hoped that the curse will be reversed before he turns and act like those fools in Grayson’s idiotic shows or Todd’s ‘secret’ romance novels.

“I am fine now. See,” reassured Lady, “We actually need you and Plagg to reverse the Lazarus Pits to what it was before someone made the wish that resulted in them in the first place. Oh, I almost forgot. Plagg, claws in.”

Green light flashed, leaving Lady in her wedding robes (which actually flatter her body. Shit. Think of something else. Drake with a smug superior smile that needs to be wiped off his face. Grayson and his plans for ‘family bonding’) and Plagg to reappear.

“Cheese.” whined the cat-like kwami(?) to which the older woman held out a brown bag that smelled and made Plagg perk up in delight. He proceeded to open the bag, taking out a slice of stinky cheese, muttering about the greatness of camembert.

Todd cleared his throat and asked in English, “Umm...Pixie as much as your reunion is touching. Who’s the new lady?”

“Oh Right, sorry. Well, Red Hood, this is my mother, the Blue Reaper of the Guild of Night. Maman, this is Red Hood and the one next to him is my husband-to-be and Talia’s Spawn, Damian Wayne.”

Lady introduced them, also in English. Damian stilled in fear, recognizing the name. The Blue Reaper nearly became his mother-in-law. She was famous for her efficiency and ruthlessness. And gained her nickname from the blue clothing she often wore as she killed her targets. His eyes also widened at how his grandfather had gone a little too far now by kidnapping the Reaper’s daughter. There were other organizations that could possibly take down the League if it weren’t for the somewhat truce between Ra’s and the other leaders. The Guild was one of them and having the Lazarus Pits to revive their soldiers made the League a little more powerful. But if what the mother-daughter duo were planning succeeded, then the League was going to have one of its most deadly wars in its history and would probably never recover from.

“Tikki, Plagg, you guys ready?” asked Lady.

“Yes, Guardian.” They both replied and emitted a blinding red and green light which Damian shielded his eyes from. When it died down, the Lazarus Pits no longer glowed a toxic green and looked… like normal hot spring water.

“Oh. I wished I could see Ra’s face when he finds out.” Lady laughed. Plagg and Todd joined in.

“Pixie, I am beginning to like you.”

“Voyage. That being said, it’s time to go home, Marinette. Your father must be worried sick about us by now. I hope you boys can find your own way back.” A portal opened up, showing a cozy living room. Damian grabbed Lady’s wrist as she moved towards it.

“Wait, let us come with you. We need to contact someone to get rid of the curse on both of us. And we can also call our father to send us tickets for a ride home wherever you live.”

“Curse? Marinette, you never mentioned a curse in your call.” Blue Reaper said, raising her eyebrow.

“I will explain later. They can come with us and I am pretty sure Ra’s knows that we have escaped by now.” Lady grabbed the two brothers and dragged them through the portal.

She then threw herself onto the couch after releasing her hold on them and the two pocket gods went to comfort her after her ordeal. The Blue Reaper stood where the other portal was and fed a floating tiny gray horse, that must be the same species as Tikki or Plagg, some sugarcubes.

“You boys must be tired but the showers are upstairs and we might have some clothes your size. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You can stay the night if you want. Welcome to Paris.”

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(Part 5)

[booksofadventures-archived]

@bishonenprince​ asked ;; [ white rose ]: our muses were meant to be getting married, but something terrible has happened to prevent the wedding from taking place. - Link

This day had been and was perfect. Link was waiting in the castle’s grand hallway. With everything that had happened recently, it was nice for the moment to relax away from it all and hopefully raise some morale in the people of Hyrule. Even his own.

The knight wasn’t one for grandness, but this occasion seemed special, incredibly so. That even though they had lost friends and almost each other, the Calamity had been defeated once more, the kingdom being rebuilt, the princess returned, and the knights memories returned.

Memories of sadness, happiness, despair and love. That last one especially important, considering he finally remembered properly the guy he had started to fall in love with before the Calamity struck 100 years ago.

He didn’t know how long he had left Sora waiting, but he was glad to have found him, promised him that once it had all been done that they would be joined together. He couldn’t wait. But this was unlike Sora, to be late or at the least this late.

When he heard movement behind him and turned to see Zelda instead of his beloved, his smile softened, but it faltered when he saw the look of the princess’ face. He had not seen that look of sadness in a long time, but he knew it too well.

His heart sank, very deeply and very quickly.

He heard her speaking, but he didn’t want it to be true. Of course on the Princess orders, Sora had been taking to the Shrine of Resurrection, in the hopes that it would help his injuries, he had been in a critical condition and hoped this would help the healing process more than just their medicine might. 

Of course as soon as he knew where the other was he ran to get there, climbing and messing up his fancy clothes, but that didn’t matter. Seeing his beloved was all that was on the knights mind. 

When he got there, Zelda was waiting for him. Probably teleported and he could have done the same, but in his panic he had not been thinking straight and just had to move. 

This time Zelda was able to explain that it was a member of the Yiga clan caught him and the people he had been travelling by surprise, luckily they were able to capture the one, but it wasn’t before Sora had been struck with several deadly blows. 

Link however, carefully took the rings out his pocket. Those he had kept on himself to give Zelda, however he slipped the one for Sora onto his finger carefully, the other he tied on string to wear around his neck. 

“I promise you my love, I will wait for you. And strike at those who so dared to hurt you...” 

[naomifj97]

Details

“—I’ve seen…the ring. Are you…were you married?

—No. But I was betrothed. Duncan didn’t get to tell you the details about my Conscription, didn’t he?”

Or: After Alistair notices a wedding ring in Oriana’s chain, a conversation at camp ensures.

Me, writing more about the Tabris origin and linking it to bonding time with Alistair? More likely than you think. I just love that origin, can't help it. Also, I adore Alistair, our big, cheese-loving man.

Alistair x The Warden, angst, angst and more angst (because, honestly, all origins are kind of gut-wrenching and I'm sure discussing it would be traumatic for any Warden), hurt, comfort, but also beautiful bonding, around 4k words.

Trigger warning: slight mentions of sexual assault, nothing graphic, but please, be safe if the content may be triggering for you <3.

Fic under cut!

Oriana has been strangely quiet since they left Redcliffe.

What they have lived there has been disturbing, truth to be told, but not much more than watching all your comrades be brutally massacred by monsters and end up being the last two survivors, so Alistair is sure there is something else going on his fellow warden’s mind.

They are camped half-way to Lake Calenhad when he finally dares to ask.

—Hey. Something on your mind?

She’s sitting near the fire, gaze lost and knees to her chest, accompanied only by Barkspawn, sleeping soundly at her feet, so lost in her thoughts she jumps a bit in her place when he calls her.

Alistair pouts, ashamed.

—Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.

Oriana shakes her head and gives him her best attempt of a smile.

—It’s fine —she replies before returning to her contemplation of the flames.

She’s doing it again, he notices.

Sometimes, he catches her toying with the chain she wears around her neck, the one that keeps her Warden’s amulet and another tiny, golden object, gaze lost and deep in her thoughts. She’s been doing it a bit more lately, since she talked with that young widow in the town’s Chantry, especially when she thinks no one is looking.

And now, her fingers are tightly locked around that tiny, golden object that shines in the fire’s light, which allows Alistair to finally satisfy his curiosity: that little thing she sometimes plays with is a ring.

A wedding ring, in fact.

He’s puzzled. Puzzled, surprised and a bit uneasy, too, even though he refuses to admit why.

Alistair then realizes he knows very little about Oriana. He knows she was born and raised in the Denerim Alienage, that her mother was an old friend of Duncan’s, and that he had to conscript her for the Grey Wardens because something big had happened to her. They briefly chatted about that before her Joining, and he remembered her telling the King she had killed an Arl’s son for raping her cousin (which he, low-key, approved of), but she didn’t give him any details and he had not insisted. He had hoped to figure out more later, but then the Battle of Ostagar happened and every single plan Alistair had before went down the precipice.

He realizes, with a pang of guilt, he has not really thought about what all that has meant for his partner. She does not usually talk about herself, and he has not made any attempt at learning.

What had Oriana left behind when she had joined the Wardens? And who?

Could she had been married? Was she? Has she left a lover with a promise of returning?

—Alistair?

Oriana is now looking at him, eyes questioning and head titled to the side. She knows he has not heard a word she has said, so she repeats the question:

—You need me for something?

—No, I was just… —Alistair clears his throat, now strangely hoarse—. I was wondering if you were alright. You’ve been very quiet lately, like one of those charming rotting folks took your tongue.

—My tongue is great, though I appreciate your concern —she jokes, winking, but it’s too stiff, too forced, to be real. She’s trying too hard; it doesn’t sound natural. And she knows it. So, she sighs, her feigned smile retreating and returning to a pensive face—. I’m alright. Just a bit shaken. After, you know, the whole “fighting with the undead” and demon-child thing…

Alistair grimaces.

—Yeah. Very creepy, indeed.

He changes the weight off his feet, bouncing from one to another. He’s a bit worn down after the whole day walking, and Oriana notices. Without a word, she shifts to the edge of her folded sleeping bag, making space for him, in a silent invitation he takes with a sigh of content and gratitude.

They sit in silence for a while, simply enjoying the other’s company.

He wants to tell her she doesn’t need to put on a brave face for him. He wants to tell her if she needs to talk, he’s there to listen.

Instead, what leaves his mouth is a bit different:

—I’ve seen…the ring. Are you…were you married?

Oriana tenses and, for one second, Alistair is afraid he’s overstepped. She swallows, slowly and heavily, eyes not meeting his, and he’s sure he has crossed a line. She does not want to talk about it, probably because it’s something very, very painful. If she wanted to, she would have mentioned it, and he is a big loudmouth with zero sense of awareness because he just had to bring it up.

But just as he is about to apologize and run off to hide to the other side of the camp, she sighs and looks at him.

—No. But I was betrothed —Oriana replies, with a smile so sad he feels his heart breaking—. Duncan didn’t get to tell you the details about my Conscription, didn’t he?

He shakes his head, the wound of grief in his chest suddenly reopened and bleeding just by the mention of his mentor. But he holds it together because Oriana looks so sad, and she is so still that worry is all that fills his mind. It’s his time of easing burdens.

She sighs, eyes on his, and asks:

—You wanna hear it?

It sounds like the confession of something horrible. And that only serves to increase his wondering.

He wants to. He feels the thrill of curiosity and the need to know crawling inside him, of course he wants to. But not at all cost.

His reply comes in a soft, hushed whisper, for her ears only:

—Only if you want to talk about it.

Yes. She wants to.

—The day Duncan came to the Alienage was the day of my wedding.

Alistair knows he should have expected something like that. But still, it shakes him. He is dying to ask about her betrothed, more than he should admit, and he definitely has a lot of questions, but he restrains himself. He knows he needs to let her do this on her own terms.

And so, Oriana keeps going, fingers nailed to the golden band in her chain, stroking it with her tips:

—I was supposed to find my cousin, Soris, who was also getting married, and drag him home by the ears so we could dress up and get ready, but we didn't. We stayed outside a bit, just…wandering —she chuckles a bit, with a smirk of longing and mischief that tells Alistair their wandering had involved something related to pranking—. Our fiancés had just arrived, we wanted to say goodbye to our previous routines before introducing ourselves.

That catches his attention. He turns to her, surprise in every inch of his narrowed eyes and frowning brow.

—Introducing? You didn’t know them?

—It was an arranged marriage. We’d never seen or spoke to them before —she explains with a shrug—. Is not uncommon in Alienages. There, you know, everybody knows each other and a lot of us are related. Our communities are small. So sometimes our hahren speaks with the hahren of another Alienage to concert marriages, bring new faces and new blood to the place.

—I… didn’t know that.

He didn’t know and would have never imagined it. He thought arranged marriages were tied to nobles and exigences of blood and alliances, one of those few things in which commoners were luckier.

Oriana makes a soft “humpf”.

—Not a lot of people do. My father had secured me an alliance with a blacksmith of Highever. Nelaros, was his name —her voice cracks a bit, so slightly it wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone but he—. I didn’t really have a chance of refusing, though I did try. I believe he was trying to ease me —she adds after a minor pause, in such a resigned, almost caring way, that only adds heartbreak to the situation.

It takes Alistair a few seconds to understand she means her father, but that’s all he understands. He turns to his fellow Warden, arms crossing over his chest.

—Easing you? By getting you married?

Why would anyone think that? Why would anyone want that?

Oriana pouts and makes a vague gesture with her hands. At that time at night she no longer wears her leather gloves and Alistair finds himself noticing her fingers are long and gracile.

—I think he expected I’d calm down. I was a bit of a troublemaker back home, never shut up —Oriana chuckles, for real for the first time in the conversation—. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to settle in, have children, become a bit less…wild.

He frowns. Barkspawn grunts, changes positions and keeps snoring, her snout against Oriana’s calve; both Wardens ignore her.

—I don’t think that’s possible. Or desirable, by that matter —Alistair adds, softly and awkwardly nudging her shoulder with his—. Your wildness is part of you, as are your big loud mouth, your ability to attract problems and that thing you do with your nose when you send someone to bit the dust.

He can’t really imagine an Oriana who is not fumbling and constantly laughing, shining bright as the fire in front of them and solving problems either with her loquacity or her sword. She smiles first; then, makes a face that would be funnier in other circumstances.

—Yes, but in an Alienage…you know, it’s better to keep out of trouble. Which I’m not precisely good at —she huffs, because she remembers every single time her father has reprimanded her for not being able to. Then she inhales again, sharply and difficulty, and Alistair knows it’s time to return to the story—. That morning…proved my father’s fears true.

Her face becomes grim, any trace of joy and glee completely erased from her features. The fire caresses them, casting shadows over part of her face.

—Do you know something about the son of the Arl of Denerim?

Vaughan Kendells.

There’s always been rumors about the son of the Arl. Whispers under breaths, murmurs exchanged between merchants and traders in the Denerim Market. Some say he is a bloody lunatic. Others that he is, directly, a monster. Alistair has heard them, but has never wanted to think much about it. However, he has a feeling he’s about to know for sure.

—I’ve heard some rumours, yes.

—All true. His depravity, his brutality, his abuse, all of that is true. Was —she corrects herself with a husky voice—. We ran into him, he was drunk as a bloody barrel, molesting a few women with those bigoted friends of his. I stepped in, and my cousin, Shianni kind of…knocked him out with a bottle of wine.

—I’m sure he deserved it —he replies with disgust.

Oriana nods, rigid; she’s fidgeting with the ring again, and the knees against her chest tight up noticeably.

—He did. But the thing is…he obviously didn’t take it well. He returned when the ceremony had just started. He said…he and his friends wanted to have a good time, so he was taking all the women in the wedding —she shivers, despite being warm enough thanks to the fire. She still can hear his mucky voice, smell his nauseating breath, feel his slimy touch. She gets sick when she thinks about that moment, about him. But she holds back the nausea for the sake of Alistair, sitting at her side and still listening, pale as ash—. Have some fun, the bastard said. And he did.

He manages to answer, voice cracking at the verge of indignation:

—Just…like that?

—Just like that. I didn't even had time to move, or react. He slapped me so hard I was out before I touched the floor.

Alistair feels the sudden urge to punch something. He wants to curse the name of that scumbag, but he does not have time. Oriana keeps going, as if she can’t stop now she has started talking:

—When I woke up, I was on the Arl’s state. My cousin, Shianni was there, as were Nola and Brianna, my bridesmaids, and Valora, Soris’ fiancée —her fingers clench around the golden circle and Alistair knows that, whatever comes now, it’s not good. Her voice shakes, flood with hesitation, embroidered in pain—. The guards came in, started taking us to Vaughan’s quarters one by one. When Nola tried to resist, they sliced her throat.

She’s making an enormous effort not to remember Nola’s body shaking, her blood flowing from her throat and her eyes losing its sparkle, becoming lifeless in the process. But in the silence of the camp, all she hears are her prayers and the last gasping for air she took.

She had grown up with that woman, known her since they were born. And Oriana can’t stop thinking about Tormey, Nola’s father, who didn’t even get back the body of his daughter to properly cry her.

Her arms tense around her legs and her knees are brought closer to her chest, but she does not seem to notice.

Alistair, however, does. And he wants to reach and caress her arm, surround her with his so she knows she’s not alone, but he has a feeling she won’t appreciate being touched right now.

—They saved me for the last —she continues, despite the knot in her throat threatening to suffocate her—. But then Soris showed up, threw me a sword and I guess you know how that part ends.

Alistair nods. He has seen Oriana handle four darkspawn on her own just with her blade and her swift moves; those guards never stood a chance.

She smirks, though there’s nothing but bitterness in that smile.

—I was surprised, honestly. When those things happen, we usually just…hope for the best. I’m sure some people saw it that way. But Nelaros, my…fiancé, refused to let things roll. So he and Soris infiltrated the place trying to rescue us. Duncan gave them arms.

Alistair can see that as if he had been there. Duncan, providing gear and a plan to infiltrate the castle despite the fact that he was supposed not to mingle in those kind of affairs. He was no man to turn his back on people who needed help.

Holding onto Duncan’s memory almost allows him to overlook the raw, terrifying reality Oriana has just made mention to, of man rallying her home to take and destroy. And worse, of people not being able to do anything but hope those who are taken return, no matter in which shape they do it.

He does not want to think about it. So, he nods, encouraging Oriana to go ahead, and the look she gives him is so full of guilt he suddenly understands how she knows his own so well.

—We were supposed to reach Nelaros, rescue the others and get out of there as soon as possible but when we found him…well, it was too late. I was late —she takes a deep breath, trying to recompose herself, trying not to drown in the memory of her fiancé in a puddle of his own blood, of her cousin half-naked, brutally beaten and ravished on the top of a carpeted floor, of her childhood friend with her clothes teared apart by a group of men—. And I was late to help Shianni. And Brianna. When I got to Kendall’s room…it had already happened.

Her words fumble in the quiet air of the camp like the dust after a bombing. Alistair can feel the bile running up his throat at high speed, and swallows it with huge difficulty.

He knows what it’s coming next. He remembers Oriana telling Cailan why she had been forced to join the Wardens, and, after the story she’s telling him, he can’t say he does not understand her actions.

She stares at him and there’s disarray in her eyes, but also a rage like no one else he’s seen in her.

—I killed him. Without the slightest regret or hesitation. And I killed all his guards on my way out —she hesitates, eyes on his, a pang of unsettling at the memory, at the thought of herself as an enraged animal—. You've seen me kill before, Alistair. But what I did that day…that was carnage. I was so furious and so terrified, and so angry I did not even think about those men, their families or the fact that they may not know what was going on. To me, they were all accomplices. I did not think. I just slayed.

He can’t find in his heart to blame her. He’s certain he would have done the same.

Now, Alistair is starting to understand why she has been thinking about all this lately. The Battle of Redcliffe has also being a carnage; flesh of the dead, but a terrific rampage anyway. They have also had to fight their way inside a castle, and, by experience, Alistair knows how similar all nobles’ houses and states can be.

Oriana does not mention it, however, because she’s sure he’s seeing the similarities. She’s also scared to death he’ll start looking at her and see a murderer, a victim, a broken, lunatic thing. But all there’s in his eyes is understanding, and he is a bit shaken, yes, but the story is too disturbing not to be. So, she keeps going:

—When I returned to the Alienage, I knew the whole community would be punished for what I had done, start another purge or something worse. So I took the blame. All of it. Pinched my cousin so hard I’m sure I made him bleed so he didn’t talk —she smiles weakly despite the memory, because she’s been laughing at Soris’ “ow, shit, they’ve caught us” face since they were children and she just can’t help it—. They were about to take me to whipping, or something worse, when Duncan interfered.

—And he conscripted you.

—And he conscripted me —she reaffirms, nodding beside Alistair’s gaze—. The guards were not happy, but nobody wanted to oppose to a Grey Warden. He saved my life.

That’s another thing they have in common, Alistair thinks, and he can’t help but wonder if she also feels it, that connection between them, tying them in the shape of lived traumas and spilled blood.

No, he corrects himself. He would never dare to simplify Oriana’s pain like that. He had gone through bad things, but nothing as bad as all that.

He can’t help but wonder how much of all she has done since they met has been because she’s been trying to make up for her actions.

With surprisingly steady fingers, Oriana pulls her chain off her neck and hands him the golden ring. He takes it, pounders the weight on his fingers. Despite what it represents, despite the heavy memory it embodies, is light. Lighter than he expected.

—I picked this from Nelaros’ body in the hallway —she whispers, and Alistair’s heart clutches at the hurt in her voice—. It was supposed to be my wedding ring, though I guess you’ve already figured that out.

Yes, he has. It has her and her dead betrothed’s name engraved.

—You’ve been wearing it since that day I imagine.

It’s a silly question, because the answer is obvious, but he wants her to keep talking, taking it all out from her system. She nods. Then, she swallows, her eyes wandering over the flames.

—When I talked to that woman, in the Chantry, I thought of him. I’ve been trying not to —when she sighs, the air that comes out from her lips is wretched and teary—. He died because he tried to do the right thing. We didn’t know each other very much. We had exchanged maybe three phrases. But he was a good man. And he did not deserve to bleed to death in the floor like an animal.

She was hoping not to break down. But that story, her story, may be one that can’t be told without breaking. And when the first tear falls, despite she dries it off furiously with her hand, she finds out breaking down in front of Alistair is not such a dreary ending for the tale.

When he sees her cry, Alistair buries his fear of doing the wrong thing and makes a choice. Slowly, he places a careful hand on her shoulder, gives her both, time and space to reject it or move away, but Oriana leans onto it like it’s the only thing keeping her steady. He chooses his words carefully, searching for her eyes, those big, bright, beautiful eyes of hers.

—Even if you didn’t know him well, you have a right to mourn him. To mourn what you lost, what could have been.

Oriana shakes her head.

—I do not mourn what could have been. I just…I… —she buries her head in her hands for a few seconds, just enough to pull it together—. I did not want that wedding. I did not want to get married, kiss a husband I barely knew, have his kids and raise a family in the Alienage. I’m not cut out to stay still and live quietly, and anyone who knows me a bit knows that. Joining the Grey Wardens, for me, was an out of all that. But the price was the life of a man who was not to blame for any of that —the tears return, this time stronger and unstoppable—. And I feel…I feel horrible. Because despite everything that happened that day, despite his death, and Nola’s, and all those men I murdered…I felt free. When I ripped that wedding dress out of my body, when I placed my sword on my back, when I arrived at Ostagar, when I met you… I felt free.

She has been punishing herself for all that, Alistair realizes. And he wants to tell her she shouldn’t, because she’s done too much good, and she doesn’t deserve that burden, and she has paid a prize, too, for that freedom. He wants to tell her that if she’s being selfish, he’s been too, because meeting her was also freeing and bright, despite all the pain and tragedy that came after, and they can be self-loathing, guilt-ridden idiots together.

But he is a bit of a chicken, so, instead, he says something different, something that’s also true:

—Well… I think that whatever price you thought you had to pay, you have already paid it —she opens her mouth to argue, but Alistair has already a bit of practice on seeing her stubbornness coming, so he goes on before she can—. I mean, how terrible is that the closest thing you perceive as freedom is leaving behind everything you know, drinking darkspawn blood and ending up being a fugitive to the whole Ferelden all while trying to end an invasion of monsters with the sole assistance of a bunch of weird, odd outcasts? That sounds like punishment enough.

She laughs; it’s quiet, and small, and low, and she’s still teary-eyed, but it’s enough to make his heart jump in his chest.

—We are not odd. We are…picturesque.

His turn to chuckle.

—Your opinion, not mine —he jokes, and she shakes her head with undeniable affection and the ghost of a smile in her lips. He sighs, softly caressing her shoulder with his thumb. He knows is probable his words are taken by the wind never to be thought about again, but Maker, he needs to try—. Oriana… You went through a lot that day. You tried to defend yourself, and your people. Everything you did, you did it because of that. What happened that day is not your fault. You were attacked. You were assaulted. You did not deserve it. You don’t deserve it.

She is about to cry. She’s certain of it. Because of everything that happened, because of all the wounds that day left behind in her, that have not healed properly. They probably never will.

But she doesn’t. Because Alistair is there with her, his big hand on her shoulder, tying her to reality and to herself; his eyes are sweet, loving and understanding, and the small, quiet smile he gives her is so different to any other he has given her to date that, suddenly, she feels a bit better.

She’s tired. So tired. Cautiously, she leans towards him until the side of her body finds his, her head resting over his forearm. He’s warm, and safe, and comfortable, and he smells like leather, sweat and pine needles, and she finds herself thinking he feels a bit like a home, too.

Alistair thanks the fire and the darkness of the night for dissimulating and hiding his blush respectively. He knows he’s a bit tense, because he is not used to physical contact, but it is a heavily pleasant feeling. It doesn’t take long until he relaxes against her body, just like hers does, curled up towards his own. He hasn’t felt so at peace in a long time.

—Thank you… For listening —she mumbles against the leather of his shoulder plate, free from the armor at that time of night.

He just lets his head rest on the top of hers and replies in a whisper for her ears only:

—Thank you for telling me.

She does not deserve anything that happened, and she does not deserve to feel guilty about it.

He knows that.

Maybe, one day, she may believe it, too.

A/N: I love them, Your Honor. And I love drama, exploring traumas and describing healing processes.

Writing this was incredibly satisfying because while I really like humorous pieces like A lamppost in winter, I also believe there's something very powerful about watching Alistair and the Warden bonding over their tragedies and grief; I think that makes them even closer, as opening your heart to another person, letting them see the darkest places of you and hoping they would understand you, accept you and love you regardless is a layer of intimacy deeply personal and raw. Also, I must admit I believe I'm way better at writing drama.

Anyway, hope you liked it!

Also! Job interview tomorrow! Wish me luck!

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Speak Now | Quackity

Requested? Never

Warnings? None?

Summary: You have to watch your best friend and secret crush get married. (Based off Speak Now by Taylor Swift!)

Word Count: 1,581

Alex holds the velvet box out to you, flipping it open to show an elegant wedding ring. Your eyes flip back and forth from the ring to Alex, a nervous smile spread across his lips.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

Honestly, you didn’t know. You didn’t know if you liked the ring, didn’t know if you could tell Alex through tight lips and locked jaw that his girlfriend would love it. You didn’t know if you could lie straight through your teeth.

Instead, you wanted to tell him that the ring was perfect but he was giving it to the wrong girl. That he should be showing you the ring while asking the question you had dreamed of for so long.

But unfortunately, that’s not how things work.

You had been in love with your best friend for years now and while you never took Alex for someone who was clueless, he certainly challenged that when it came to your feelings. It was like he became blind to your compliments, your loyalty, your selflessness, your attention, your physical touch, everything. You swore he just thought of it as being “good friends”.

So, the minute he pulled out a diamond ring for his girlfriend, your heart couldn’t help but shatter the little bit left holding out for Alex.

“It’s gorgeous,” you tell him and relief visibly floods through him.

“I’m so excited,” he says, leaning forward and wrapping you up in a hug.

“Me too,” you say quietly into his shoulder, holding back tears.

In the days following, you watched as Alex announced his engagement to you, your friends, and all of his fans. When the notification graced your phone, you couldn’t help but cry. You had become used to Alex not returning your feelings but this? This was permanent and real, and a reminder that Alex didn’t love you the way you loved him.

However, as all best friends do, you put on a smile. You accepted when he asked you to be a part of his wedding party and excitedly planned along with him, taking a piece of your heart out and giving it to Alex every chance and him walking over it unknowingly.

The months leading up to the wedding were excruciating. And you were shocked when they only got worse.

“(y/n)?” Alex asks one day.

You look up at him, nerves coursing through you as he looks at you with worried eyes. Your heart falls, somehow knowing and having no clue what the next words out of his mouth would be.

He sits next to you, his focus on the carpet before him, toeing at the fabric with his foot nervously. He glances at you for a moment as his hands come together in front of him. Everything about him screams anxiety, and you want to rub his back and tell him that everything is going to be okay.

“You,” he hesitates and for a moment you think he’s crying, but convince yourself it’s the terrible lighting in your apartment.

“You can’t come to the wedding,” he finally chokes out.

Your head tilts, and for a moment it feels like someone wrapped a hand around your heart and squeezed.

“Wha-“ you start but Alex talks over you, word vomiting like no tomorrow.

“Claire said she would feel uncomfortable with you there and wants me to take a step back from our friendship.”

Alex’s eyes flicker from the ground he’s so fixated on, to your blank expression. You felt like this was one big prank. That it had to be a joke being uninvited to your best friend’s wedding. While you knew your heart would be cracking and falling to pieces at the altar in front of you when you saw Alex get married, you still didn’t want to miss your best friend’s big life event.

You’re utterly speechless, as Alex apologizes once more, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head and leaving. You sit in the same position, rethinking the conversation for what feels like hours.

Alex felt like he left his heart in that apartment with you. He felt like he had severed a limb, and it was missing after telling you the news about his wedding. Truly, you meant everything to him. You were the girl who had captured his heart and would entrust you with it forever, knowing you’d never do anything to hurt him.

And yet that’s all he was doing to you and himself. He wished all of those years ago he had said something, done something, manned up, and just admitted it to you. But here he was, feeling like he needed to go through with this to hold a semblance of happiness in the future.

You had finally snapped yourself out of the shock, your body moving without really thinking about the motions. You find yourself calling Karl, your best friend who knew everything about the situation between you and Alex. He was even the one to introduce the two of you.

You explain what happened in quiet sentences, Karl insisting he’ll be over in a flash. It’s true, it feels like you’re up and answering the door in the next few minutes to a pity-stricken Karl.

“Honey,” he frowns, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I don’t want to see him get married but I don’t want to miss it,” you whine and Karl’s frown deepens.

“They gave me a plus one, just come with me,” he decides and you look up at him, hope in your eyes.

“I’m sure as hell not going alone and definitely not going without you there,” you giggle lightly and lean up to press a kiss to Karl’s cheek.

As the day of the wedding approaches, you and Alex talk less and less. He had distanced himself ever since breaking the news to you and you had half hated it and half appreciated it. You were able to nurse your heartbreak and prepare yourself for one of the hardest days.

On the day of the wedding, you get ready with a hint of nerves. Your hands shake putting your earrings in, and it’s practically impossible to fasten your heels. Just as you’re attempting to put on a necklace, the doorbell rings. You sigh, heading over and swinging it open to see Karl standing before you.

You take in his appearance, a soft smile crossing your lips as you hold out the necklace in front of you.

“Can you help?”

Karl doesn’t respond at first, scanning your body up and down in awe. You had picked out a pale pink dress, white heels, and scarce jewelry but you look stunning nonetheless.

“Holy smokes,” he breathes out.

“Oh shut up,” you joke but smile wide at your friend regardless.

Karl finally takes the necklace from your hands, pulling it around your neck and fastening it till it sits just right. His hands trail over your shoulders, squeezing them lightly before dropping his hands.

“Ready?”

“As I ever will be.”

The venue is gorgeous, nothing less for the bride. You and Karl make your way in, your eyes wandering about the room and taking in the details. You find her family sitting in the front row, annoyed looks matching their obnoxious outfits. You try not to frown as you see people greeting each other fondly, speaking fond words about the future husband and wife.

You find seats together and Karl watches you as your face falls, hearing the sound of the wedding march. The music is grating on your ears, another reminder that you never wanted to be here in the first place.

Everyone begins to stand, and you turn to look at the girl who had stolen your best friend’s heart. She floats down the aisle like a pageant queen, her dress flowing behind her. You risk a glance at Alex and find he’s already staring at you.

Alex was shocked when he saw you sitting with his best friend at his wedding. His heart seized at the sight of you in a beautiful dress, and his mind wanders to how you would look in a wedding dress, walking towards him now.

It feels like the wedding goes by in a blur, your heart shattering slowly, piece by piece as vows are exchanged.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace,”

It’s dead silent as the preacher looks over the crowd, and without a second thought, you stand. From next to you Karl’s eyes widen and you feel your hands shake as you look at Alex. The rest of the crowd stares up at you with horrified looks, and you half expect someone to yell at you to sit back down.

“I am not the kind of girl who should be doing this,” you start your eyes never leaving Alex’s.

“But you are not the kind of boy, who should be marrying the wrong girl,” you finish.

The entire crowd is in an uproar, the only person on your side being Karl who cheers loudly at your proclamation. Alex steps towards you and you make your way out of the aisle. He approaches you, uncertainty is in his eyes.

“Don’t say yes, run away with me, make the right choice,” you whisper, and his look of uncertainty falls into one of careful consideration.

“Okay,” he says and a smile widens onto your lips.

“Let’s go.”