#church altar wedding flower arrangements | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lalunanymph · 3 months ago

Text

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒: 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋, 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, arranged marriage, extramarital affairs, explicit smut (sukunaeste AND sukunayn 🫣), mentions of drugs, mentions of affairs, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of conception, mentions of food, family tension, toxic family dynamics

masterlist | playlist

The day is bright, unseasonably warm for a wedding.

As the last guest trickles in and the church doors close, the organ strikes up and down the aisle walks a bride in a silky, form-fitting wedding dress, thick veil covering her exquisitely made up face. Her father looks striking next to her, tall and handsome in his charcoal gray suit. He kisses her hand and passes it to the man at the front of the altar, his smile betraying no hint of regret as he clasps her offered hand tightly.

The groom doesn’t stutter or mess up his vows. He’s clear-eyed and level-headed, handsome with just a hint of devilishness when he sweeps her into his arms, kissing her right in front of the entire congregation, cementing his willingness to love her for the rest of his life in front of God and her family.��

What the heavens have joined, no man can destroy.

Those were the words echoing throughout the halls as they left the luxurious chapel, rows of Rolls Royces wrapped with ribbons and daisies waiting to take them back to the city—the bride’s favorite flowers specking the bright scene with dots of yellow and white, a touching new day for two families who were finally one.

Inside the car, away from the cameras and guests, you drop Sukuna’s hand the second he releases yours, and shift to the other end of the interior. He lets the space fester between the two of you, not bothering to even speak to you or ask how you were feeling now that his wedding band was wrapped around your finger.

Your mother told you she heard from Mrs. Gojo that Sukuna himself picked the band and stone, sparing no detail to his help.

In fact, she gleefully announces, he chose the venue, the music, the color scheme and cars that would bring you both back to Tokyo as a newlywed couple.

You’re dumbfounded.

It doesn't make any sense.

One glance at him now would disparage those rumors. Sukuna barely looks at you, preoccupied with the passing scene outside the car window. His side profile cuts a sharp outline amidst the fading scenery, and he turns to catch your stare, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

You flush and look away, clutching the stem of your bouquet tighter in your fists. “Nothing.”

He doesn’t comment on your lack of conversation, deciding to drop this matter.

All that’s left on today’s itinerary is the reception dinner and you’d both be free of this depressing charade. Smiling too much made your cheeks hurt, and you physically couldn’t feel your feet; the tight heels Okura-san bought nearly cut off your toes’ circulation.

Sukuna catches you wincing and he scoffs. “What now? You were fidgeting throughout the whole wedding ceremony.”

He doesn’t bother to speak nicely to you once your names are signed on the same page, resorting to his standard fare of rudeness and disappointment.

“My shoes hurt,” you complain. He rolls his eyes.

“Why did you have to wear them?”

Because it’s the style you like, you want to bite back. One of his ex-girlfriends from five years ago had a picture on Getty Images wearing this exact cut and color when she was rumored to be with him.

“They’re pretty,” you argue.

He gives you a look. “No, they’re not. I don’t like them. They squish your toes too much.” Sukuna sighs, as if the idea of berating you is too taxing for him to handle.

“Next time, have some more common sense. You’re an Itadori now. Your image is mine and you have to keep it spotless. Whatever you do, wherever you go, my name will always be attached to yours.” He gives you a side glance, and you feel his vitriol and cutting annoyance. “If you wear those shoes and stumble around, you’re just begging for the wrong kind of attention.”

Mental note made. You glance back at the shoes, wanting nothing more than to burn them. I’ll have to tell Okura-san to phase this style out of my wardrobe.

The day continues with a celebration of your nuptials at a high end Michelin restaurant in Tokyo Tower, the reservation made under his name and intended for selected family and friends only.

You see Este in the crowd, months after your last encounter with her at the Hokkaido lodge, and feel a nauseating sense of unease when she beams at Sukuna, readying herself at the front of the stage where you’re supposed to toss the bouquet to your unmarried friends.

She’s changed into a cream gown, almost the same color as your own bridal dress from her previous red number in the church—probably when you were all too busy getting the ceremony underway. Many people stop to stare at her, though shameless as she is, she doesn’t pay them any mind, tossing her shiny brown hair back and giggling with her gaggle of prissy friends also mutually connected to the Itadoris.

Pitiful stares slide towards you, and Iori even threatens under her breath to spill red wine all over the front of her frock in passing for daring to humiliate you like this; her arms locked tight around you in mid-embrace when you come over to her table and greet her. She’s splendid and iridescent in an airy pale green dress and her hair up in a pristine bow, though the look of vitriol on her face could kill a man.

We can’t do that, you regretfully inform her, squeezing her forearms, feeling helpless at her righteous anger. The Naras are priceless to the Itadoris—angering them would affect Jin and Sukuna’s relationship with James.

Ever since you came back from Hokkaido, you hadn’t found the time to update her on what you had overheard from Sukuna and Este, too consumed by wedding prep and your inner conflict at whether you should proceed with the whole farce now that both your families were starting to put the pressure on you and Sukuna.

Iori, kind-hearted as she was to a fault, gave you your space, one call away whenever you needed emotional support. You hated keeping her in the dark for so long, but there were just some things you could not speak about without going deeper into this impending tragedy of a loveless marriage.

As the new wife of their family, there were things you had to learn—and fast.

The first being you would always be last in the grand scheme of things in the Itadori clan.

First was their brotherly bond, then their business, and then their shared raising of Yuuji who’s the heir apparent to the entire company.

Any children you beget for Sukuna would be second in line, a spare in case anything happens to Yuuji in the future.

Between the struggle or slaughterhouse, you chose to duck your head quietly and let yourself be led down this road where your happiness came second to everyone else’s. You had a duty to fulfill—to protect and upkeep the L/N name; nothing else can matter.

Ladies and gentlemen, the bride will now perform the highly waited for bouquet toss! The announcer guides you to the stage where your carefully crafted bouquet of daisies and peonies sourced from one of the best florists in Shinjuku was pressed into your hands. Your family beams across the room, your mother grasping Sukuna’s bicep as she excitedly chatters into his ear.

The wedding is over, the five course meals are done and now, the games will begin.

Let’s see who the lucky lady is today, he trills, and you turn back from the crowd, steadying your aim towards Iori, who bounces on the balls of her feet, excitedly shooting you a grin.

If there was anyone who deserved better luck than you in your love life, it’s your best friend of twelve years.

“Three, two, one—and toss!”

You throw the bouquet back and catch the peel of high-pitched squeals, some scrambling. Then, the crowd starts to clap and cheer.

You turn around, expecting Iori to be the one triumphant in holding your bouquet in her hands, but find that it’s Este who brandishes the flower arrangement in the air instead like a conqueror holding her enemy’s beheaded head.

Some peony petals scatter to the ground, looking like crimson bloodstains as Este’s mother pinches her cheeks, happy at her daughter’s good luck on such an auspicious day.

For a split second, the entire room forgets about you—the woman in white, standing all alone with a spotlight on her, arms uselessly dangling by her side; a smile frozen on her face like a mannequin left out in a snowstorm for days.

You feel someone staring at you from the dais on the other end of the room, and lift your eyes, your gaze colliding with a pair of vermillion hues.

Sukuna holds eye contact with you for a moment longer than you hope, and in those eyes, an evasive yet curious emotion stirs, stunning you for a second more than you could ever dream.

Then, he drops his eyes and the connection blanks, your world going back to white and black again.

“Cancel the honeymoon,” Sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t leave like this.”

Jin sits solemnly in front of him, lips in a thin line and circles dark underneath his eyes.

The latest investor meeting was a clusterfuck. None of the numbers were making sense and revenue across the Middle East had been disrupted because of a supply chain leakage.

Things weren’t looking too bright for Itadori Corp—all this while Sukuna was getting a hang of the ropes and trying his best to catch up with a decade’s worth of data, numbers, and Jin’s expectations.

“Are you sure?” The younger twin sinks back in his seat, turning his sleep-deprived eyes to the ceiling. Ever since the third quarter report came out, Jin’s been spending more nights in the office than he cared to admit, relegating Yuuji to the care of his nannies and nurses. “Won’t your wife be mad?”

Sukuna couldn’t care less what you would feel about this decision. This is his profit at risk.

He snorts. “No. She’s too busy shopping all day long and painting. Y/N won’t notice if we never went for our honeymoon.”

There’s something deeper behind his scorn, and Jin wants to ask, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the office door.

His personal assistant walks in, the man’s flush face and aggravated expression sending off flickers of anxiety crawling all over his skin. Jin’s office with its floor-to-ceiling windows, curated artwork and priceless mahogany desk seems to shrink in the periphery from the magnitude of the news he receives next.

“Itadori-san, my apologies for interrupting.” Ijichi bows deeply, his glasses almost falling off his face. “But, the stakeholders have requested an emergency meeting tonight.”

“Shit,” Jin curses.

It’s horrendous timing. Tonight’s the night you’ll be officially welcomed into the Itadori household.

Reading his mind, Sukuna shakes his head. “We have an important family event tonight. Push it to tomorrow morning.”

Over the decade he’s served Itadori Corp and Jin loyally, Ijichi wasn’t sure if he could take Sukuna’s order. But, Jin eases his uncertainties with a nod and a sigh.

“My brother is right. Just let them know we’ll meet on this tomorrow. It will give Sukuna and I some time to go over the report and speak to our analysts.”

Not one to waste any time, their subordinate bows again, leaving the room to make the necessary calls.

“Can you get me a meeting with James Nara?” Jin stands, buttoning the front of his blazer and adjusting his glasses. “We might need to expedite things on the manufacturer's end.”

Sukuna stands as well, smoothing the front of his dress pants. “Of course.”

“He’s in his apartment down in Shibuya. Get Este on the line, too. Something tells me we’re going to need their connections to Dubai to get us out of this mess.”

His older brother hesitates. Jin furrows his brow, turning back to look at him. “Is something wrong?”

The confession hovers on the tip of his tongue—I can’t see Este or else I’ll be tempted to do something horrible. Sukuna hasn’t seen her since the wedding when she caught the bouquet you obviously meant for that Utahime girl; knowing they would have to reduce their encounters if they didn’t want word of their affair to spread across the city. Besides late night texts on his burner phone and a few nudes exchanged here and there, Sukuna hasn’t felt her under him in days.

And the need is ever growing.

“Nothing,” he lies smoothly. “I’ll catch up with James in the afternoon.”

Sukuna walks back to his office opposite Jin's, a space curated just for him. He surveys the tournament trophies hanging on the wall, the boxing memorabilia. Unlike his brother’s office, it’s clinical and colder. While Jin proudly has photos of himself, Kaori and Yuuji hanging on the walls to mark his unending devotion for his family, Sukuna’s content to focus more on his achievements and goals rather than sappy, cliche mementos.

Even the wedding portrait sent back by the studio remains in the storage, hidden from his view and attention. A nagging voice deep inside tells him to speak to you about it—to give you a choice to hang it up or burn it. But, he doesn’t bother to revisit that task, hyperfocus on closing this deal before the next quarter arrives.

It’s part of his charade to show Jin he’s worthy of that 110% profit when it inevitably gets cashed into his account.

“Sir?”

Ijichi stands at the door, daring to interrupt his thoughts; the vermin bows to him and straightens.

Sukuna’s starting to feel like this guy would never give him a break. His mouth curls into a sneer, words piercing and cold.

“Well? What is it?”

“Sir, Miss Este Nara has made an appointment for you to visit downtown Shibuya on Jin’s request. Your 4.30PM meeting is set.”

Saying nothing else, the meek man bows again and retreats, leaving Sukuna to his spiraling thoughts.

Three days without her body and the drugs were pushing it. But, it’s been almost a week since he’s had a hit and he feels the gnawing ache overtaking his every thought. If it weren’t for the little bags of coke she had brought to him before the wedding which he does every night in his own private bathroom before returning to the penthouse you both shared, Sukuna might have murdered someone by now.

To prepare himself for her, he staggers into his bathroom, procuring the small pouch hidden behind rows of mouthwash and setting it up on the black marble counter. Sukuna lines it up, bends his head forward and inhales the sweet, sweet powder that sends a shock up his spine, his eyes narrowing into pinpricks and mind floating away in a blissful sea of nothing.

He leans against the counter, head languidly rolling back, eyes half closed.

His watch beeps with the meeting reminder Ijichi uploaded into his shared data, and he walks out of there with a swing in his step, shoulders loose and a confident grin in place.

The Naras weren’t as ostentatious as the L/Ns thought their uptown apartment in Shibuya begs to challenge that notion.

Concierge immediately recognizes his Superleggera, ushering him up the gilded smart elevators; purified oxygenated air circulating around the ample space, ruffling the tips of his pink hair.

He arrives at the front door, ready to make a deal with the Nara patriarch himself when the door opens and he finds Este on the other end, her red lips in a smirk.

“Wh—where’s your father?” Sukuna holds his cool while keeping his confusion under wraps.

It’s fine. If the old man wasn’t here, he could come back another day… after he sorted out his hit, of course.

Her coy smile reflects his thoughts, and she doesn’t stop to think of the consequences, pulling him into the apartment by his tie.

Sukuna falls into the gravity of her seduction, lips pressed onto hers, moaning and licking along the seam of her mouth. She tastes like Dior’s cherry lip gloss and a bad mistake, weighing him down with the burden of her arms around him.

Este drags him to the couch, panting when he pushes her skirt aside, finding her completely naked underneath.

“You planned this?” He growls, eyeing her flushed nub that twitches under his glare.

“I knew you were coming back for me.” Her eyes roll back into her head and she bites on her lip, tangling her fingers in his hair as he ducks his head down in between her legs.

Sukuna eats her out right on her parent’s couch, the bulge in his pants hard to ignore. He snaps his pants’ button open with one hand, dragging the zipper down and pulls out his cock, giving it a few good pumps as his tongue traces his name onto her clit.

Este’s breathing like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, the whites of her eyes glimmering in the low light. Sukuna feels her spurt into his mouth and he drinks her down, never taking those sultry red eyes off of her.

Limp and satisfied from her orgasm, she gives him a lazy smirk and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

Sukuna’s tongue twines with hers in a kiss which makes his cock throb, and he aches to be in her—it’s been too long since he’s felt her pussy clinging onto him.

Este’s slim legs wrap around his waist, and her cries are muffled by his large palm slapping across her mouth.

Shut up, Sukuna snarls. Shut up and take it.

He fucks her fast and dirty, the thrill of his raw cock inside of her enough to make his balls twitch and the band around his belly tighten.

Come in me, her lusty cry spills from between his finger cracks. I need to feel you, Ryomen.

His name tumbling from her swollen lips is enough for him to spill inside her, filling her with warmth. Este brushes the sweaty strands of hair from his face, tracing her lips over the tribal tattoos on his jaw.

“Where the fuck is my reward, woman?” He grumbles and she giggles, reaching behind the sofa to rummage for the secret packet. Sukuna swats the globes of her ass on display just for him, admiring the thick white glob of his cum oozing out of her puffy cunt.

She settles into his lap with the white ziplock bag, daring him to sniff it off her pelvis bone.

Sukuna arranges her back on the couch, carefully stacking a line of white on her pale, silky smooth skin and inhaling it in one go.

The drugs take effect immediately and he’s seeing stars everywhere; on the ceiling, outside the windows, twinkling from inside her pussy.

If this is what love feels like, Sukuna thinks he’s a master of it.

“Feels good?” Her voice wavers in and out of his shaky consciousness. Sukuna nods, resting his head on her thigh, eyes closed and enjoying the feel of her nails raking through his scalp.

Fuck, if this is what love feels like, he doesn’t mind upping his dosage for a stronger hit.

The ticking kitchen clock becomes the subject of your nervous glances.

It’s half past six and Sukuna still isn’t home yet. Dinner with Jin starts at seven.

You bite your nails, knee bouncing up and down as you contemplate driving straight to the younger Itadori’s apartment without your husband.

It won’t be a good look. Jin would obviously question Sukuna’s whereabouts, and you didn’t want to paint yourself as a bad wife for not knowing where your husband was.

It’s not my fault he doesn’t tell me anything! You seethe in frustration. That damn asshat wouldn’t give me his daily schedule—even when I asked him twice!

You groan and tilt your head back, flopping onto the sofa. The satin dress you bought from Dior clings to your figure, and you fiddle with the biker’s jacket you got on a whim, crinkling your nose at how stuffy and humid it was because of the thick material. This isn’t helping my nerves.

You sigh and push back your hair, wondering if you should leave Sukuna yet another voicemail. You’ve already left about four since the clock chimed six, and you’re honestly considering calling up his office line to remind him of this special occasion.

Just as you make the decision to flag the chauffeur from his patient post in the suite’s parking spot to take you to Jin’s apartment on your own, the doorknob jangles and turns.

Sukuna steps in, cheeks ruddy and hair askew, looking like someone had taken a huge windblower to his face.

“Well?” He snaps, like he’s the one who spent half the day trying to get a hold of you; nervously waiting for your arrival back home. “Do I have to fucking roll out a red carpet for you? Let’s go.”

He doesn’t raise his voice at you, but he might as well have judging from the annoyance simmering in his vermillion gaze.

Sukuna slams the door shut and you scramble to your feet, grabbing your purse and the remains of your patience. He waits for you in the elevator, and you huff quietly, stepping past the doors and standing beside him with your eyes latching onto the ground, simmering in annoyance.

“Stop pouting. Your face is annoying me.”

Darting your eyes to his, your lips tighten into a grimace. It takes some effort to school your features into a pleasant smile, but you do it for the sake of keeping the peace this evening.

“I apologize, Itadori-san.”

Rather than reducing his severity on someone who doesn’t deserve the least bit of his hostility, Sukuna’s nostrils flare and he groans, shaking his head. Underneath the harsh fluorescent light of this private elevator, you can see his skin stretching taut across his face, the dark circles like bruises smudged under his eyes.

Without taking a second to think, you step closer to him and place the back of your hand on his forehead.

Sukuna flinches as if you’ve struck him, his jaw tightening and body tensing. You falter and retreat back to your corner of the elevator, the skin on the back of your hand prickling. He, too, feels a tingling sensation on his forehead where your touch made contact with his skin, and despite the lack of malicious intent, he doesn’t let his walls of hostility fall for a single second.

“What are you doing?” He seethes, narrowing his eyes.

Curling your shoulders forward defensively, you gesture to his appearance. “You look exhausted. Sick, even. I was just trying to see if you’re feeling well. You know—like a good wife is supposed to do.”

The word ‘wife’ tears through him like a bed of nails. This time, Sukuna actually flinches.

You look like the picture of innocence in front of him, staring up at him with those wide doe eyes as if you don’t know that you’ve crossed a line. His high-maintenance, image-obsessed wife who thinks she has him all figured out. Sukuna finds you sickening, a pain in his ass.

As if to retaliate back against your unwanted touch, he scoffs.

“You can drop the act, Princess. Spare it for someone who actually cares. Like Jin. We don’t have to pretend when it’s just the two of us.”

Unbeknownst to him, your expression breaks into one of hurt behind his back when he turns around, ignoring you like you’re the dirt underneath his expensive designer shoes.

You can’t find the words to fight back or retort, tightening your hands around your embellished purse as you trail behind him quietly like his shadow.

The car ride to Jin’s mansion is hell on earth, if you can call the hot depths your husband’s cold stare never leaving the window, or his tense jaw keeping its edge long after you both left the penthouse.

You never thought such a simple gesture would incite this much resistance from one man. All you had done was try to see if he had a fever, and Sukuna was acting as if you had insulted his entire bloodline in front of his business associates. As much as you want to shirk the pain off and ignore it, it slices you everywhere, leaving no inch of your heart unscathed.

The car idles to a stop in front of a simple, double-storey mansion, one of Jin’s properties near Shibuya that he prefers to reside in over his penthouse in Akasaka.

And, you can see why. Homey with plants dotting the balconies and blinds at every floor-to-ceiling window, it’s a perfect blend of luxury and comfort for a single father raising a rambunctious young boy.

The driver steps out and opens your door. You get out and Sukuna follows behind, making a sound of consternation under his breath. He takes a step forward, and you can’t tell if it’s the lack of light, or if his gait is wobbly.

Like he’s drunk, you think silently to yourself. But, after witnessing his venomous side firsthand, you keep a hold on your tongue. After all, this is the first night you’ll be meeting Jin and getting introduced to his young son. You don’t want to mess it up.

The tiny gift you spent a whole day making for Yuuji weighs heavily in your purse. Before you could follow behind him into the home, Sukuna whirls around, and in a low tone, he warns, “Don’t do anything stupid tonight to embarrass me. My nephew doesn’t take kindly to strangers so stay in line, princess.”

His words, harsh and cruel, slice through you again, reminding you of your position as his lawfully-wedded wife. Always beneath him, always available for scrutiny and scorn.

Before you can murmur your agreement or nod docilely, he turns back around and opens the door. You take a deep breath the second you step through the threshold, heart hammering in between your ribs at what you can expect from the other side.

Warm, orange light drips from the chandelier above. A cozy L-shape couch with a crackling fireplace immediately puts your worries at ease, and the tinkling of a water fountain by the large, living room windows, soothes the ire your husband’s previous words incited almost instantly.

Jin hears the door opening and he steps past the pillar separating the open concept kitchen from the living room with a smile on his face.

“Sukuna. Y/N. Welcome, welcome. Take a seat. I’m just warming up the dishes the chef left for us.”

You bow to him slightly and he returns your gesture with a friendly wink. “It’s good to see you again, Jin-san.”

“Likewise, Y/N. And please,” he flashes you a bright smile. “Call me Jin. We’re in-laws now so you don’t have to be so formal with me.”

His openness, so different from his older twin’s antagonism, heals a part of your heart that’s still tender from Sukuna’s afflictions. You nod and gesture to the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything, Jin?”

It’s strange to see a man work a kitchen, much less a man like Itadori Jin who’s brilliant mind and business acumen was said to rival Bill Gates’ during his prime years. He’s the picture of ease, standing there with a gray apron wrapped around his neck and waist, effortlessly heating up some sauces in pots and checking on the oven settings.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Y/N. Sit, sit. There’s refreshments in the fridge. Don’t be shy to help yourself.”

You set your bag down on the counter and nod, ambling over to the large, smart fridge, opening it idly.

Apparently at ease now that he’s comfortable in his twin brother’s house, Sukuna sinks onto the couch with a low groan. “D’you happen to have a beer or something?”

His brother, already back in the kitchen, overhears his gripes.

“Yeah, I do. Go get it yourself. And get one for your wife, too, prick.”

Uncaring for the warning in Jin’s tone, Sukuna flickers his crimson eyes to you standing there like a statue by the fridge. “She’s right there. She can take a drink for me, can’t she? It’s not like her legs aren’t working.”

You see a darker emotion flash on Jin’s face, almost like anger, and decide to intervene before the two brothers could fight over something as trivial as manners and who should bring who a drink.

“It’s alright. I’ll get a beer for him,” you quickly butt in, and grab a cold can of Asahi for Sukuna and a sparkling water for yourself. You pad over to your husband, ignoring Jin’s flickering gaze passing over your expression and school your features into one of neutrality when you pass the beer to him.

Sukuna takes it without ‘thanks’, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and groaning. You take the love seat on his other side, uncapping your drink and politely sipping on the bubbling liquid.

“Oi.” His terse tone catches your attention and you startle. Sukuna frowns, and flickers his gaze to the spot next to him. In a low voice so that Jin can’t overhear, he murmurs, “You want him to think we’re a celibate couple or something? Sit next to me. Don’t make it so obvious.”

Despite the fact that yes—you two were for all intents and purposes a couple who had not even consummated the marriage yet—you heed his words, knowing that what happens behind closed doors is not allowed to see the light of day.

Mutely, you shift to sit by his side, quietly absorbing the house’s minimalist yet expensive decor.

You want to ask Jin what’s his inspiration for the color palette when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs behind you, and turn to find an elderly woman in a starchy black dress and hair in an uptight bun walking hand-in-hand with a tiny boy who barely looks to be past four years old.

Oh. Your breath rushes out of your chest as you take in his fluffy pink hair, the orange dungarees which clash horribly with the blush-tone hue of his locks. This must be—

“Come on, Yuuji. Come and meet your new aunty.”

Jin removes his apron and nods to the maid, guiding Yuuji over to you and Sukuna. His smile becomes both paternal and soft as he places one large palm on his son’s head, urging him forward to meet the newest addition to their family.

Disregarding Sukuna’s warning to not step out of line in front of his family, you walk up to his nephew and slide down to one knee, so you’re both looking right into each other’s eyes. Yuuji isn’t shy like you expected, gazing at you with open curiosity, those brown eyes comically wide.

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet him warmly. The small boy doesn’t say a word.

Behind you, you feel Sukuna’s looming presence, and not wanting to prove him right, you stand and pluck your tote bag from the counter, rummaging inside and pulling out a crocheted blue bunny. Yuuji’s eyes go even bigger at the sight of the toy, his pouty, pink seashell lips dropping open, eyes never leaving the gift in your hand.

“Your father told me you like toys so I made this for you.” You slide back onto one knee and hand him the stuffed toy, waiting for him to take it.

Everything is quiet for a brief moment and a part of you thinks he might reject you, as children do when for no logical reason. But then, Yuuji turns to look at Jin, as if asking for permission and his father nods, grinning widely.

“Go ahead, Yuu-Yuu. Aunty Y/N made that just for you.”

Two chubby hands reach for the toy, taking it from your grasp as he squeezes it right to his plump cheek. Yuuji’s nose crinkles and he starts to rub his face on the scratchy material, the furrow on his tiny forehead smoothing out and a giggle blessing your ears.

“I think he likes it,” Jin laughs, and you can’t help but chortle, too.

“I think he does.” You turn towards Sukuna, who’s looking at the boy holding the toy with an amused smirk.

“Well. First one for the books. You have it easy—wait till he starts throwing a temper tantrum.”

Straightening, you extend your hand out to Yuuji who stares at it like your fingers are a foreign object hovering right in front of him. Slowly, he feels the trust seeping from you, knowing you wouldn’t mean any harm, and spreads his tiny fingers towards you—stopping when he suddenly remembers something.

One more glance at his papa, who nods graciously, a bright smile on his face at the sight of his adorable son warming up to his aunt. “You can trust her, Yuu-Yuu.”

Relaxing at his father’s words, the smallest Itadori stretches out his free hand, grasping your pinkie. The warmth of his entire palm engulfing your smallest finger sets off a sense of maternal protection and sweetness surging through your veins, and you can’t help but think that if someone were to threaten Yuuji with a gun, you would put yourself right in front of the barrel to protect him.

“Would you like to have dinner now, Yuuji?” You ask him warmly, and the toddler gurgles as if he completely understands what you’re saying, tugging you along.

You swivel back to Sukuna who’s watching the entire episode unfurl with a look of pleasant surprise on his face, unaccustomed to having someone hit it off with his crybaby of a nephew.

Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you give him a triumphant smirk, and he relents, shaking his head with a low laugh. You got me there, that chuckle seems to say, and he keeps his eyes peeled on Yuuji who leads you right down the hall with mincing steps—strides which you match effortlessly.

Where other nannies and butlers would try to order Yuuji around, you bend right to his whims, meeting him at his level. You listen to him babble in his baby language without any hesitation or judgment; you coo and gasp at the right time, as if he had told you something scandalous. Whenever you had to speak to him, you tried your best to get onto one knee to be eye-to-eye with the two year old.

It’s safe to say by the end of the evening, you’ve won at least one Itadori man’s heart.

Yuuji insisted you sit next to him on his high chair with his thumb in his mouth, shaking his head furiously when Jin tries to take the seat on his right hand side.

“Okay, little man. It’s not like I’m your father, or anything.” Jin complains, much to your amusement.

You try and fail to hide a giggle at Yuuji furrowing his tiny brows and puckering his mouth into a pout when Sukuna attempts to take the chair next to the young boy. Those sweet brown eyes search for you, and he whines, unsticking his thumb from his mouth to make grabby motions at you.

“Me?” You point to your chest, pretending to look back as if you expected him to choose someone else.

Yuuji whines louder, and you giggle, shaking your head at his antics. “You want me to sit next to you, Yuu-Yuu?”

As you speak, you circle the table and hover at the chair next to him. Yuuji doesn't say a word or even mumble a protest—watching you with wide, doe eyes.

Taking it as a ‘yes’, you shoot both Jin and Sukuna an apologetic look, settling yourself on Yuuji’s right; the toddler smacking his lips in satisfaction. He’s managed to trickle drool all over the crocheted bunny, holding it fast to his chest as a maid helps cut his potatoes into smaller bites, quartering the Shine Muscat grapes so he could easily grab it and stuff it into his mouth.

Jin takes the seat opposite of you, hovering close enough in case you need help with his son.

But, he was surprised to see that you were perfectly capable of handling Yuuji all on your own.

The spread of food arranged by both Jin and his maid is luxurious and homey, filled with stewed meats, stir-fried veggies and at the center of the table sits a hearty salmon dish lightly boiled in dashi broth, its flavor clean and nourishing at the same time.

You eat while Jin and Sukuna catch up over business and other formalities, your attention solely on Yuuji and his antics. You giggle when he offers you a grape and nod, extending your palm for him to drop the plump fruit into your hand.

“So, how’s Project Dubai going?” Sukuna inquires, and Jin tears his eyes away from the intriguing young woman who’s getting on well with his son to entertain his brother.

You’re nibbling on a grape when you overhear this intriguing topic; Project Dubai being the codename for Shinjuku Alliance, your father’s company, patenting technology from the Middle East under Itadori Corp’s supply channels.

This was the one project which brought you into their lives—the reason why Sukuna’s ring was on your finger in the first place.

Jin senses your mounting curiosity, and as much as you’re a key person in this deal, he doesn’t need anymore stakes in such a top secret project that was sure to boost Japan’s economy as a whole. He frowns, and gives Sukuna a pointed look.

“Do you think we should be speaking of business at this table now?”

He meant it as a joke, but you, knowing the entire context and having overheard it, tries to reassure him in your usual selfless way.

“It’s alright, Jin-san. You and Itadori-san can talk about business. I’ll keep Yuuji entertained so he won’t interrupt.”

Jin startles from your sudden quip and begins to stammer out that it’s fine, that he’ll save the talk for later in the smoking room, when Sukuna returns his previous gesture and gives him a glare.

“I suppose it’s going well,” the youngest twin finally responds with a sigh. “I’m meeting Jiro tomorrow. He wants to talk over logistics and send a rep over to Dubai. I think you should be in the meeting, too.”

Sukuna takes a sip of his whiskey and nods. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

He gives you a furtive look, and as much as he wants to pretend you’re not an important person in his life, the truth is far different from the reality.

You’re nothing but a naive princess who doesn’t know the ins and outs of his world. You live in a fantasy so much different from his own world. Where Sukuna faces rejections, threats and failed investments, all you had going on for you was a rich daddy and a mother who’s descended from retail royalty. You would never understand how important this deal was to him, you could never comprehend the magnitude of burden that rests on his shoulders.

He watches you coo at something Yuuji says, and his rumination catches Jin’s attention. His brother chuckles, and Sukuna swivels back to find him wiggling his brows.

“Say… she’s a natural with children, isn’t she?”

Sukuna bristles. The thing with Jin is that compliments aren’t actually about highlighting a person’s achievements. It’s a means for him to scheme and further coerce someone into doing his bidding.

In this case, Jin’s motivations are clear.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her?

In answer, Sukuna glowers at his brother, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth curling from a glare to a grimace.

Jin rolls his eyes, twin telepathy at play between the both of them.

Oh, come on. His youngest brother glares back at him. You know it has to happen soon—her father wants grandchildren… that’s part of your deal, Sukuna.

“Are you both… okay?” Your concern breaks their staring contest and Jin turns to you with a slight cough, while Sukuna continues to sip on his whiskey.

“We’re fine,” his twin brother grins. Sukuna grunts.

His eyes flit from Yuuji to you and back to Yuuji again, Jin’s silent question echoing loudly in his head.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her?

Growing up with a mother as an art collector gave your childhood a magical touch.

On days when Lia brought you to work, you spent hours exploring the exhibition galleries, hiding underneath the stone benches, running and prancing around just to hear your shoes skidding on the polished, honey oak floorings as world class paintings looked on at your naive, childish glee.

Now that you’re older, the gallery is a source of comfort and a spot you spent most of your time, trying to learn the ropes from your mother in hopes that one day, your name might be on the grant of his great building.

After instructing your new driver to circle towards Monolithique, a cube building housing New Age Impressionist art which your mother is particularly fond of, you take the spiral staircase up to her office, letting yourself into the executive suite.

Lia glances up at you from her spot behind the great mahogany desk, her smile both curious and despairing.

“Already back to work so soon?”

You scoff and shrug off your Balmain tote bag, settling it down on the smaller desk to her right. “Why? Hoping I never come back to work again?”

Looking radiant in a yellow sundress with a Tom Ford leather coat hanging from her shoulders, your mother chuckles.

“It’s only been three weeks since the wedding. Itadori-san should be keeping you at home to enjoy your presence.”

At the reminder of how long it’s been since the ceremony and yet, Sukuna refuses to make a move on you despite sharing the same bed together, your bubbly smile falls slightly flat.

“He’s been busy with Project Dubai,” you shrug off your long, black trench coat and set it on the back of the chair, careful not to crumple your new silky Dior dress. “I was growing bored at home.”

Lia eyes the new monochromatic fashion you’re sporting, her lips pursing as she looks you up and down. “The dress is something… different. I’ve never seen such a lack of color on you. Not even a pastel bow in your hair?”

Referring to your old style which Sukuna had insulted as an ‘old maid trying to play a prepubescent girl’, you cringe at the internal shame you still carried around from that conversation. You shrug, trying to play it cool in front of your mom.

“I suppose I came to the realization that my old style was… childish.”

Lia chuckles, shaking her head. “I did love your old style, though. It had a certain innocence. But, you’re right, you’re a married woman now and you need to look sophisticated and carry yourself well.”

You nod, going back to your stack of papers which need your attention after your wedding leave.

“Oh, about the Daley memorial exhibition—”

Your head shoots up, piqued by such an interesting concept. “Did the board bite my pitch idea?”

Lia tries and fails to suppress a smile. “Yes, they did, Y/N. They loved your idea and the suggestion of a tribute for him. Getting his grandson to unveil an exclusive painting which the public has not seen was such a great idea, that even Mrs. Saichi loved it.”

The idea of Mrs. Saichi, or known as the art curator from hell who loves terrorizing the newer hires, loving your idea enough to put aside her cantankerous attitude makes you grin from ear to ear.

“That’s great, mom. I have some other ideas, too that I think the board will like,” you clear your throat, removing a clear binder from your desk drawer. “There’s this artist. His name is Suguru Geto and he studied in Vanliette’s School of Art in Salisbury. He stated that one of his biggest creative inspirations is Nathan Daley and his recent works have been generating hype especially in Denmark for its use of Daley’s paint splatter method. I think he would great to feature as a highlight artist, considering he’s—”

“From Tokyo,” Lia finishes, her eyes twinkling. “Mhm. Yes, I've heard about him, too. A very talented young man, though he is rather… rakish in nature.”

You tilt your head, a polite yet confused smile lifts your lips. “What do you mean by that, mom?”

Lia takes in your innocence with a chortle, folding her hands right in front of her. “It means he’s a playboy, my dear. He’s used to having his way with many, many beautiful women. If we want to get him onboard for the Daley Memorial, we need to employ a very convincing incentive, indeed.”

Her eyes rake across your face, scanning down your bare shoulders. You blanche, the implication of her words rising inside you like the warmth staining your cheeks.

“Are you saying I should be the one to lure him in?”

A smile plays on the corners of her lips. “I believe so. If you so badly want to take over Monolithique and expand to other corners of the world, there are certain sacrifices and tests I must put you through to prove your worth, dear.”

Of course. You’ve made it known many times to Lia how much you yearn to have this art gallery under your name; your dreams of expanding to cities like New York or Chicago are the same ones which fuel your determination to show up at work everyday.

You square your shoulders and steel yourself with a breath. Getting Suguru Geto was no easy feat, but you’re an L/N. Your father’s stubbornness and your mother’s wit runs through your blood. But, like every good businesswoman, you can’t just take the first offer on the table. You had to play your cards right; dig deeper to maximize your benefits.

“And if I do get Geto-san for our exhibition? What will be my compensation?”

Lia’s eyes sparkle at your question; she’s taught you well.

Tapping one manicured finger on her chin, she hums, as if deep in thought.

What she says next is the stuff of your wildest dreams.

Biting her cheek, she says, “I’ll let you take charge of expanding Monolithique to Chicago.”

Your heart literally stops. A breath you didn’t know you were holding whooshes past your lips, and you press a hand to your mouth to keep from squealing.

“Are you serious?” Your eyes sparkle with a million stars, the first piece of good news you’ve gotten since your inescapable marriage to Sukuna.

Lia hums, the twinkle in her eyes matching your ecstasy.

“As serious as I've ever been.” Her gaze softens, and she sinks back into her high chair, a satisfied smile across her dewberry stained lips. “But, on one condition.”

You look at her expectantly, willing to do what it takes to see your dreams grow wings and fly. “Yes, mom. Anything.”

Lia exhales, twining her fingers together, looking at you with a keen shine in her eye.

“We expect to hear good news of a grandchild sometime this year.”

Sukuna’s day was going from bad to worse.

First, his assistant messed up his meeting schedule for an important VIP catch-up with Jin and the rest of the committee, then some board bitch from his brother’s posse of investors made a snide comment about his facial tattoos which he couldn’t rebuke if he wanted to play nice. Afterwards, his favorite protein shake bar in the cafe below unexpectedly ran out of his favorite whey solvent and on top of that, his wife has the fucking audacity to text him to come home earlier tonight for dinner.

He’s seething when he reads your message, not bothering to reply and switching his phone off.

If you had half the brains to text him in the morning when he’s still fresh and ready to take on the day, he might’ve been lenient to your request. But, he can’t afford to make anymore mistakes today.

His position as Jin’s VP already drew raised eyebrows from across the room when it was announced just three weeks ago after his marriage to you. The rumor mill ran rampant with voices of dissent, calling him a product of nepotism; whispers behind his back of how he didn’t deserve this position over other long-time cohorts who were unfairly pushed from the top.

Without thinking it through, Sukuna rummages in his desktop drawer, removing a small, white packet.

The entire office had already emptied out a long time ago; Jin himself had rapped his knuckles on his door, announcing his leave to go back home.

It’s just him, a few security guards manning the building, and the promise of his high.

Sukuna lines up the powder on his desk and takes the first hit, feeling the drugs swirl in his system. The familiar high hums in his veins and a dopey smile breaks out across his face. He sighs and sits back in his high end chair, folding his hands on top of his chest.

Enjoying the lightheadedness for a few more moments, Sukuna decides enough time has passed and he needs to crash out in his own bed. The idea of coming back home faded as hell doesn’t even cross his mind when he calls for the chauffeur to pick him, or when he’s ambling straight to the door of the penthouse he shares with you.

The second the lock clicks inside, he’s assaulted by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Candles glitter across every available surface, and it feels like he’s stepped into the middle of a séance.

Sukuna’s confusion is palpable, especially when he notices you rising from the sofa, clad in a skimpy black robe with lace trimmings, the peek of your collarbones past the silk stirring something inside of his chest.

“What’s this?” He tries to demand, but the hardness of his confusion doesn’t translate in his tone. Instead, he sounds curious.

“I made you dinner,” you murmur and this close now, he sees your lips shining with a sheen of plum wine, your skin smooth and flawless under the warm, flickering light.

Sukuna swallows and involuntarily takes a step back.

“I told you I’d be working late—”

“It’s no worries,” you interject, and without a second’s hesitation, close the distance between the two of you. “I don’t mind waiting for you, Itadori-san.”

He can smell the vanilla wafting in your hair, clinging to your skin. Whether the drugs are messing with brain or his resolution is weaker after such a shit day, Sukuna caves in and lifts his hand to your face, running the back of his inked knuckles down your cheek.

Your skin is softer than he imagines, and a jolt runs through him, hot and needy, at the thought of how many days he’s spent asleep next to you on the large, cold bed without even once thinking of caressing such dainty and silky flesh. A flash of heat unfurls down his spine, and he growls, low and in warning, his crimson eyes darkening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, little miss.”

Incredulously, you smirk. Emboldened by his touch, you raise your own dainty palms, pressing it to his chest, feeling the solid muscle underneath his dress shirt.

“Don’t you think we’re both past games, now?” You whisper, hesitantly stripping his jacket off his broad shoulders. The heavy material falls to the floor with a dull thud. Your fingers dance across the buttons of his shirt, and Sukuna doesn’t utter a single word when you start to undress him.

You’re trembling on the inside like a violent earthquake has besieged you, fingers quivering as you work the buttons off, one at a time, until the dip of his pecs appear in your line of sight. A part of you thinks he’s going to snap and come to his senses, pushing you away. But, the dark, pensive look in his eyes doesn’t fade, and it reassures you somewhat.

As if struck by a certain thought, Sukuna brushes your hands away.

Your face melts into a look of hurt, but that changes when he brings his arms to wrap around your smaller figure, pulling you flush to his body. Sukuna’s blood-red eyes hungrily search your face. In the dimness of the penthouse, his facial tattoos stand out garishly, bleeding lines of ink across his skin.

You tentatively reach for his face, cupping it in both your palms. Though no stranger to sex thanks to your reckless youth, this moment feels different. Incredibly intimate. The atmosphere presses around you with sensuous demand, the hot lines of his body against yours causing your heart to thrum out of control.

His crimson eyes fall at half-mast, peering down at you with curiosity swimming in his dark gaze.

You tip his face closer to yours, breath caught in your throat. This will be the first kiss you’ve ever had with him since that day at the altar when he made you his wife.

You can feel your pulse beating wildly through your partially closed eyelids, his lips approaching closer and closer. Your thumb brushes his upper lip, and you’re about to let him close the gap when you see it.

A fine dusting of powder concentrated around his nose.

Instinctively, you gasp, eyes flying wide. Sukuna, who feels the ambience shifting, pries his eyes open too, gazing at you with disgruntled confusion. Before he can ask what has gotten into you, he feels your thumb swiping under his nose, as if scrutinizing some residue.

He blanches immediately, knowing what you would be seeing. What you had found.

Your husband wants to reprimand you for your invasive exploration, but the words catch behind his gritted teeth when you turn your wide eyes to him, shock and dismay mingling upon your expression.

“Sukuna… is this… cocaine?”

a/n. ruh-roh x238585

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story this far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms, and claim as your own

#🦢 writes #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk series #jjk fic #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #series: hopelessly devoted

332 notes · View notes

beegomess · 3 months ago

Text

Your marriage with them || Slytherin Boys

Summary: This time, the title describes it well… Warnings: None.

Requests are open!

Blaise Zabini

It was on a sunny afternoon, at one of the idyllic country estates of the Zabini family, that your wedding with Blaise came to life. The setting, though unpretentious, exuded a serene elegance. The estate was situated on a vast property, surrounded by green fields stretching as far as the eye could see. The ceremony took place outdoors, under a clear blue sky, with subtle decor that appeared natural and unpretentious, yet it was evident that every detail had been carefully chosen.

The altar was a simple structure, adorned with white and green flowers that blended perfectly with the surroundings. The chairs, arranged in elegant lines, were dressed in soft-toned linen fabrics, creating a pleasant contrast with the green field backdrop. The sound of birds singing and the gentle breeze completed the tranquil and intimate atmosphere of the event.

The guests, many of whom were close friends and family, appreciated the sophisticated simplicity of the setting. The reception featured an outdoor dinner with refined dishes served informally, allowing everyone to feel at ease. The day concluded with a sunset celebration, marked by lively conversations and laughter, in an environment where elegance met natural beauty.

Draco Malfoy

The wedding with Draco was a spectacle of grandeur and tradition, reflecting the prestige and magnitude of the families involved. The ceremony took place in a splendidly decorated church, whose interior was an imposing example of classical architecture. The environment was filled with luxury and refinement: crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft light over the meticulously crafted details.

The altar, adorned with opulent floral arrangements in shades of white and gold, seemed like an extension of the church itself, harmonizing with the columns and walls embellished with marble details and gold frames. The main aisle was filled with guests, all dressed in their finest attire, giving the event a royal air. The sound of organ music filled the space, creating a solemn and majestic atmosphere.

The reception was equally grand, held in the main hall of the Malfoy family estate, distinguished by its refined decor and luxurious details. Guests enjoyed an exquisite banquet and danced to the music of a live orchestra. Every moment of the wedding was planned to emphasize the significance of the occasion and the connection between the families, creating a celebration that will be remembered as a milestone of elegance and prestige.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Your wedding with Lorenzo Berkshire took place in a serene field, immersed in the simplicity and natural beauty that characterize the Berkshire family aesthetic. The location was carefully chosen to offer a tranquil and elegant setting, with robust trees and blooming white flowers.

The ceremony was held outdoors, with a simple yet sophisticated altar, decorated with white and green floral arrangements that complemented the natural palette of the field. The chairs, arranged in a semicircle, were dressed with linen covers and ribbons in neutral tones, blending with the surroundings. The blue sky and gentle sun created a pleasant and calm atmosphere for the celebration.

The reception followed the same refined simplicity, with an outdoor dinner served under elegantly decorated tents. The menu included light and sophisticated dishes prepared with fresh, high-quality ingredients. The overall atmosphere was one of relaxation and intimate celebration, with friends and family enjoying a natural and elegant setting where the beauty of the field complemented the discreet sophistication of the occasion.

Mattheo Riddle

The wedding with Mattheo had to be conducted quickly and practically, reflecting the urgency with which both of you wanted to seal the union. The ceremony took place in a small and cozy garden at the back of one of his family's houses. The decor, done in a hurry, was simple but had a touch of homey charm.

The space was decorated with field flowers and candles, creating an intimate and warm environment. The ceremony area was improvised with an arch of white and green flowers, giving the place a fresh look. Simple wooden chairs were arranged around the makeshift altar, where the vows were exchanged.

The few friends present shared a simple feast, with homemade food and drinks. The celebration was marked by a sense of urgency and love, with everyone present understanding the importance and intensity of the moment. The simplicity of the event reflected Mattheo's and your desire to unite quickly, and even in its simplicity, the love and dedication were clearly present.

Theodore Nott

The wedding took place at the end of a golden afternoon, in a seaside garden belonging to a majestic house on the coast. The setting was breathtaking, with the deep blue sea shimmering under the soft light of the setting sun.

The garden was adorned with natural and refined decor, with white flowers and green arrangements that enhanced the beauty of the environment. The chairs were arranged in a semicircle configuration, offering panoramic views of the sea and the sunset-lit horizon. The altar, simple yet elegant, was framed by a curtain of flowers and leaves, matching the garden’s color palette.

The ceremony was enveloped in a warm glow, as the last rays of sun reflected on the sea, creating a magical and romantic atmosphere. The reception continued outdoors, with a sophisticated dinner served under a large tree, where guests enjoyed the spectacular view and relaxed ambiance. The combination of the natural setting with elegant details created a dreamlike scene, capturing the essence of love and glamour.

Tom Riddle

The wedding with Tom was an urgent and symbolic celebration, held in the Chamber of Secrets, a location that, despite its dark and mysterious character, became the backdrop for a deeply personal and significant moment. The ceremony had to be conducted quickly due to the need to remain hidden, but Tom insisted that all the elements he wanted be present.

The Chamber was temporarily transformed with simple but effective decor. Magical torches cast a soft light on the stone walls, and a series of white candles were placed around the makeshift altar. Discreet floral arrangements, consisting of white lilies and dark flowers, were positioned at strategic points, providing an elegant contrast to the somber environment.

The few carefully selected guests were present to witness the union, marked by sincere vows and a sense of urgency. The ceremony was brief and intense, reflecting both the gravity of the situation and Tom’s deep desire to seal the union as quickly as possible. Despite the improvised decor and unusual setting, the moment was filled with significance, with Tom ensuring that every detail reflected his commitment and desire to build a future together, regardless of the circumstances.

_______________________________

masterlist

I loved writing this, and I hope you enjoyed it too!!

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

267 notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 11 months ago

Text

false god - m. murdock

a/n: sorry if this is bad i did my best because i have been thinking about him a lot warnings: cursing, smut, cunninglus (reader recieving), exhibition (kind of?) matt has an oral fixation, praise, premarital activites, reader is deaf and uses hearing aids but it's only mentioned once, if i missed any let me know! word count: 1.8k summary: the night before your wedding, you and matt are starving. you want to order room service, matt wants to eat out. pairing: matt x fem!reader now playing: false god - taylor swift "but we might just get away with it/religion's in your lips/even if it's a false god/we'd still worship/we might just get away with it/the altar is my hips"

When the devil finally proposed to you, he did it amongst flames and darkness.

…

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.

Matt had proposed to you in the empty office of Nelson, Murdock & Page where you had met, with the lights turned down and candles lighting up the air around you. It was romantic, just as the two of you deserved.

Planning took a long time, too, with flowers, dresses and food taking over your every thought.

But now, all of that was done. There was nothing to be worried about anymore, as you and Matt specifically requested that if anything were to go wrong, Foggy and Karen would take care of it the best they could and not alarm the two of you unless someone was either dying or threatening to kill you.

So, in less than twenty-four hours, you would be Mrs. Matt Murdock, doomed to a life of lawyer jargon and patching up wounds, with no way out. The thought made you giddy.

The ceremony was going to be held at the church, but the pair of you had moved in with each other a long time ago, so it felt weird to try and avoid each other the night before the wedding and the morning in your own apartment. So, you and your future husband, as well as your small wedding party, had booked a few rooms in a hotel near the church.

You both had your respective ‘last hurrah’ a few weeks prior, so there was really nothing to do after the rehearsal dinner other than head to your room and relax, waiting for your alarm to go off to start getting ready.

You had decided to take it easy, enjoying a glass of wine after what you deemed to be an ‘everything’ shower, taking all the necessary precautions to feel like your best self on your wedding day. You had even bought yourself a nice silk pajama set, white, just like your rehearsal dress, and just like your wedding dress.

Your wedding dress hung freshly steamed in the closet of the hotel room, your shoes placed neatly beneath it. Your jewelry and accessories were laid out neatly on the dresser across from the bed. Your wedding ring sat in a box, inscribed with your husband’s name on it. He sat next to it, your name in braille on the inside of the ring.

In the morning, your mom, your sister, Karen, Marci and the woman who had been doing your hair and makeup for every major life event would be there, coffee in Karen’s hands, as your soon to be husband and his best friend got ready together, reminiscing on how they had landed themselves here.

Everything was perfectly set in place. Your job now was to just get married, and really, how hard could that be?

So, with your wine, you tuck yourself into bed with full intentions of getting a good night’s rest in your silky bridal pajamas.

Except, your job was almost done. There were no more seating arrangements to make, no one else to chase after for an RSVP, no more fittings, and no more menus to create to adhere to you and your soon to be husband’s particular tastes.

So, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t stressed at all.. Which left you with one conclusion:

You missed Matt.

You had seen him a few hours ago for the rehearsal dinner, but you were suddenly left with the conclusion that you were aching for the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

Before you realized what you were doing, you were calling him.

On the second ring, he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Hi. Everything’s great.”

A pause.

“Okay, do you want to talk about anything..?”

“There’s nothing else to do, Matty!” You’re out of bed and pacing now. “I’m stress free, and I can’t even be with you!”

You hear his laugh from the other side of the line, and it makes your heart flutter.

“We have the rest of our lives to spend the night together, baby.” He must have had a drink or two like you, because ‘baby’ is his tipsy nickname for you.

“I know, but I miss you now. And I’m hungry.” You tell him.

“Do you want to come over, order room service, and make out?” He grins. “You just have to leave before midnight, it’s bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding.”

You’re putting on your slippers when you pause and consider this for a minute.

“Matt, You’re blind.”

“And you’re deaf, don’t forget your hearing aids, baby.”

“How drunk are you right now? How would I be talking to you if I didn’t have them in right now?” You question.

A pause.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” His voice is softer now, and before you know it, you’re out the door and walking down the hallway.

He opens the door before you can knock, because of all the men in New York, you’ve landed the one with heightened abilities.

“Hi.” You grin, but he doesn’t respond. He simply leans down and picks you up bridal style, much to your objection. He kicks the door behind him closed before he carries you to the bed. He lays you down on it, finding himself on top of you.

“Silk?” He asks gently, his hand on your side.

“Mhm. Bridal pajamas.” You giggle. He just grins and leans in to kiss you. He pulls away from the kiss only to move to your jaw, and then down your neck. “Matthew, I want to order room service, I’m starved!”

His hands find their way underneath your top, his fingers beginning to creep up your skin.

“Me too. Been planning so much, I’ve hardly had the chance to be with you.. To touch you like this.”

You hum softly, but then your stomach rumbles loudly. So, when He lands on his knees in front of you and pulls you forward so that his head is between your thighs, he takes a second to lean over, searching for the room service menu before handing it to you, as well as the phone.

“What looks good, baby?” He asks, leaning his cheek against your thigh. Your pajama bottoms are shorts, so his warm cheek is a sharp contrast to your skin.

“What are you up to, Murdock?” You ask suspiciously, sitting up to look at the menu.

“Nothing, what kind of desserts do they have on there?”

What a weird, secretive man your future husband is.

“Uh, they have a crème brulee, apple pie, angel cake with chocolate ganache frosting—”

“Oo, can you order me one of those?” he asks, starting to kiss your thighs. Your face flushes.

“Sure, But I’m also gonna order the chocolate covered strawberries and the brownie al a mode—”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hums, “You just have to order it for me.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you go to dial the number for room service.

The woman on the other end of the phone is very nice.

As she begins to talk, Matt listens in, but mainly focuses on pulling down your shorts and panties, kissing along your thighs.

Your free hand goes to his hair to try and keep him from eating you out while you order room service, but he is a persistent man.

His lips meet your clit first, and he listens as you gasp, trying to finish the order that he had so kindly requested you to make. His tongue meets your folds, finally satiating the hunger he had for weeks leading up to this.

Your fingers grip his hair, only making him quicken his pace.

“Can I also get uhm—” You can barely think straight. “The uh, Fuck—” Matt’s nose rubs against your clit, his tongue moving at a devastating pace.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman on the other line asks.

“Yeah, Sorry, stubbed my toe on the dresser,” You explain. Matt grins from his place between your thighs. His tongue drags up and down, as if he’s licking every inch of you, like maybe he’ll never be able to taste you again. “The angel cake, can we get two slices of that?” You ask, your fiancé’s pace increasing.

“Yeah, of course. Anything else?”

Matt takes only a moment to stop his assault on your pussy, to add, “The strawberries, baby,” before continuing to lap his tongue against your wet heat.

“The chocolate covered strawberries, and that’s it,” You finish.

“Alright, we have the brownie, the strawberries, and the cake..” She finishes. “What room?”

“Two twenty six,” You tell her. You roll your hips up to try and get more from Matt, but one hand leaves his grip on your thigh to hold your hips down. He knows you’re close, he always knows.

“Oh, are you the bride for tomorrow?” She asks.

This god damn wedding.

“Mhm,” You manage out, biting your lip to try and stop yourself from moaning.

“Congratulations!” She chirps, “Consider the room service complimentary, then,” She gifts.

“Thank you, very much.” You hum.

Matt stops his assault again.

“Ask her how long,” and then he’s back to tasting you, relentlessly.

“How long?” You ask, breathlessly.

“Should only be about ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thank you,” You say again, your grip on Matt’s hair tightening as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“Of course! Have a very happy wedding day!” And with that, she hangs up, and you toss the phone in the general direction of the machine.

“I’m gonna kill you,” You tell Matt, who stops quickly.

“Do you want to kill me, or do you want me to make you cum?” He asks. He looks really pretty between your thighs.

“Please, Matty..” You give in, and he smirks.

“That’s my good girl.” And he continues to suck your clit, edging you closer and closer. His pace quickens, somehow even more. You let out a soft moan that sounds like absolute heaven to Matt’s ears.

Your thighs are starting to shake because you’re so damn close. Matt keeps his licks consistent, waiting for your release. Your fingers tug on his hair, as you moan, finally hitting your release. He lets you ride out your high, licking all your cum up, making sure to suck up every last drop.

“So sweet and so good for me..” he hums, planting a soft kiss to your clit before pulling away, licking his lips.

“You’re such a dick..” You giggle.

He laughs, kissing your thigh.

“Did so well for me, Sweetheart..” He hums, leaning up to give you a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he slips your shorts back on, and looks like he has a new idea. “Ten to fifteen minutes, huh?”

“Mhm..” You’re just looking at him with such adoration.

“We could probably put that pretty mouth to good use while we wait, right?”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #smut #marvel smut #daredevil smut

836 notes · View notes

skauni · 5 months ago

Text

Arranged Marriage: John Price x Fem!Reader

Part #2—The Wedding

Part #1, Part #2, Part #3(final)

It’s been a few weeks since John started taking you places to get to know you. He started getting bolder with his ways of doing it, too. Inviting you to dinner, out to the movies where you could pick what you wanted to watch and he’d buy the tickets—wanna watch two movies? That’s fine with him, he has the time to spare for you. At some point you learned that he’s a liar when he says he doesn’t cry at the corny love scenes in the Rom Com movies. But you don’t hold it against him, you cry too.

Once John figured out you loved chocolate covered strawberries though, all hell broke loose. He tried to figure out how to melt the chocolate. He tried the microwave but somehow he burnt it. So he asked you to come to his house for a bit of a lesson on it. You ended up staying longer than you needed to with him after seeing all the unbaked instant batter goods he had. You showed him how to make muffins and cookies after showing him how to melt the chocolate. He watched you fiddle with the engagement ring, which still wasn’t on the proper finger. Not yet, at least. You left his house with a massive smile on your lips after helping him clean the mess up.

As the days went on, John started asking you for your opinions on things like flowers and theme colors. You guessed early on that it was for the wedding day. When you asked, John confirmed hesitantly that it was. Worried that you’d get upset. So he was surprised, to say the least, when you asked to see the venue. So he drove you to the city’s big plaza with the big water fountain in the middle, the one that he figured out that you really liked on his own. “It’s a simple enough wedding, nothing too extravagant. Didn’t wanna take any chances with the decorators, they kept saying they were sold out of certain decorations so I’d buy the most expensive one.” John grumbled. To which you snickered. “That sounds about right, did you buy anything from them anyways?” You’d ask. “…. The stupid center pieces.” John would huff. His sour attitude making you laugh, he smiled when you did.

You knew the wedding was close when he took you cake tasting before he took you to the store where you tried on wedding dresses. He knew instantly which one you liked, but you hadn’t chosen it in the end because it was ‘too expensive’. So he told you to wait in the car before he bought the wedding dress you liked and told the store genders to deliver it to his address. Then he took you shopping for the wedding rings. And he did the same thing there too, buying the pair of rings you liked but didn’t choose because you thought they were ‘too expensive’ as you waited in the car.

More and more time passed, and before you knew it, you were at the church, your best friend as your maid of honor, and your other two friends as your bridesmaids. One of the groomsmen delivered a white box with a tag on it. It was to you, from John. “Bit early for a wedding present isn’t it-?” You’d ask. But when you opened the box you gasped and pulled out the silky white dress you liked… the dress was made of soft, thin fabric meant to mimic silk. The top of it was a see through material with floral patterns woven into it that slowly faded to solid white down the long sleeves. At the bottom of the dress, silver thread was woven into vines where little silver thread flowers popped up from the fabric.

When your dress was on your maid of honor and bridesmaids all left to he stand up at the altar where they’d wait for you. You looked down at the engagement ring, then moved it to the proper finger. When it was time to walk down the isle, your father came to get you. You held his arm in one hand and held your bouquet in the other. When you got up to the altar your father went to sit down and you handed the bouquet to your maid of honor, then took John’s hands. He saw that you’d moved the engagement ring. He grinned softly and gently rubbed his thumbs over your hands.

When you both said your ‘I do’s the wedding party moved to the venue at the plaza. The tables were all set up, the decorations carefully put on lamp poles and trees and along the fountain. And you laughed softly when John grumbled about the center pieces saying they weren’t even worth the money he spent on them because they looked half-assed. You nudged him softly. “They look perfect, don’t worry so much about it.” You tried to comfort. He sighed softly. “Alright, alright. I won’t worry about it, much...” he replied, smiling as you chuckled at his words again.

To be continued…<3

@gibbsgirl7

#call of duty #cod #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #call of duty john price #cod price #cod x reader #john price #johnathan price

106 notes · View notes

brummiereader · 1 year ago

Text

PREVIOUS PART

Killing Me Softly (PART TWO/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: Today is your wedding day. Will Tommy be able to hide his true self when an unexpected guest shows up?

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, controlling behaviour, Dark!Tommy ( This a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

Today was your wedding day. A day you had dreamt about your whole life. You had the dress, the veil, the shoes, your hair and makeup were perfectly curled and immaculately applied, the freshly picked bouquet sat in a glass of water ready to be thrown into a crowd of young women, dreaming of having their own fairytale wedding. Except, this was no fairytale. This was an arranged marriage, an unsigned agreement, too late to back out of. There was no love story to be told, only a sorry tale of how two people had come together, each needing something from the other.

Standing in front of the large wooden framed mirror, your hands brushed out the small creases of your tailored wedding dress, a dress you insisted on paying for yourself. This was after all your wedding gown, the only one you hoped you would ever wear. You could already hear guests starting to make their way into the church, laughter and joy echoed through the old stone bricked building, just like any normal wedding should have. Picking up a glass of whiskey, you downed it in one, the noise of happiness setting your nerves on edge. Did Tommy feel the same, was he as anxious as you? Sitting down in the chair beside you, you buried your head in yours hands as the door suddenly flew open.

" Up, up, come on!" Polly said as she walked into the room, your veil in her hands, your mother following behind her.

" Oh my darling daughter, you look beautiful" your mother said as tears formed in her eyes.

" Now, now Marianne, you'll start her off, and we don't want to ruin her makeup" Polly smiled, placing a supportive hand on your mother's arm " Turn around love" she said as she held out the veil pinning it gently into your hair.

" A vision of beauty" Polly smiled turning you back to her, your mother wiping her cheeks, unable to hold back her tears any longer.

" Everyone's waiting" Ada announced as she stood by the door grinning. "Gorgeous" she mouthed to you as the music started to play.

" We'll see you in there" Polly said, handing you your bouquet of flowers.

" I love you darling, your father would be so proud of you" your mother said hugging you tightly, not wanting to let go, her only child about to leave her. As your mother and Polly left the room, you looked down at the bracelet Tommy had gifted you, smiling as you adjusted its position on your wrist. Your heart was fully open to this marriage, you could only hope Tommy's was too.

With no father to walk you down the aisle, you made the journey alone. Eyes fixed on the bouquet of peonies and roses clutched tightly in your hand, you walked forward to the altar. Half way there you finally looked up to see Tommy standing next to the priest, his hands interlocked in front of him, his eyes fixed on you, as he waited for his bride. Lifting your veil, a smile formed on his lips as he looked you over, his face flashing with satisfaction as he looked back to his brothers behind him, Arthur giving him a wink and smile of approval. Taking your hands in his, you both turned to face the priest as the ceremony begun.

"Do you Thomas Michael Shelby take Y/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N to be your lawful wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, keep her in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, be faithful to her so long as you both shall live?"

"I do" he said turning to face you, his eyes piercing into yours, his hands holding yours so tightly you could feel his signet ring digging into your skin.

"And do you Y/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N, take Thomas Michael Shelby to be your lawful wedded husband? Will you love him, comfort him, keep him in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, be faithful to him so long as you both shall live?" Rubbing his thumb firmly on the back of your hand Tommy waited for you to say the words, his jaw tightening at your visible apprehension as you looked to the priest then back to him.

"I do" you said, staring into his eyes, a small smile forming on his face as he continued to stroke your hand, slowly easing the pressure of his touch. His gaze was so intense you found yourself getting lost in his eyes, completely unaware of what the priest had said, until, without warning Tommy cupped your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours, drawing you in with his gentle embrace as you felt your heart skip a beat from the passion he emitted.

Turning to face the cheers and claps from the crowd of people behind you, you both walked back up the aisle as husband and wife, it was done, your part of the arrangement was fulfilled. Passing the crowd of guests a young man in a blue suit caught your eye, you recognised him immediately, with a small smile you waved to him as he waved back. Watching the interaction, Tommy's grip on your hand tightened as he pulled you closer to him, leading you away from the crowd of people. Entering the large reception room located behind the church, you looked around at the lavish decorations that filled the room. No expense was spared. The once empty space was adorned with freshly picked flowers, the finest cutlery, crisp white linen had been delicately laid out along the long table that occupied the middle of the room, as candles illuminated the finery beneath them. Your new husband was clearly trying to make an impression.

Pulling out your chair, Tommy sat down beside you as the rest of the wedding party made their way into the room. Looking at the guests now seated around the table, you noticed the young man in the blue suit seated next to your mother, sharing another smile, you mouthed a small "hi". With the exchange once again not going unnoticed, Tommy rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat as he placed a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it as he sized the man up in the corner of his eye. Narrowing his eyes, irritation on his face, Tommy blew the smoke from the tobacco in his direction, a clear show of annoyance, as the young man from across the table quickly looked away.

"You look beautiful Y/N" Tommy said turning to you as he placed a thumb on your cheek, staring into your eyes. " Did you pick this gown out yourself?" He questioned as his thumb traced down your neck to the lace covering your shoulder.

" I did, do you like it?" You said as you looked down at your dress, blushing at his compliment.

" It's modern" he said, clearing his throat, looking over the detailed embroidered flowers skimming over your cleavage, his jaw tightening as he looked back over to the young man. Modern, what does that even mean? The smile, quickly vanishing from your face, you pulled the cleavage of the dress further up, his words making you feel self-conscious. Was it too much for a wedding dress, did it show too much? You would never normally doubt yourself on something like this but you found yourself seeking his approval.

Dinner had been served, and for the past thirty minutes you had been pushing your food around the plate, barely taking a mouthful, all the time Tommy watching you. It was the lamb, you hated lamb. An expensive choice of meat no doubt, but one you could never stomach. No matter how many times you tried it, it would always leave you feeling sick.

" Do you always pick at your food?" He said, leaning back in his chair as he turned to face you. A look of irritation spread across his face as he picked up his glass of wine In front of him, swigging it in his mouth, swallowing harshly, as his lips pursed at its bitter taste.

" Oh, no, it's the Lamb, it doesn't agree with me" you said as you dropped your fork onto your plate.

"Huh..." He scoffed as he stared at you, his thumb and forefinger forcefully rubbing the stem of the wine glass between them.

" I'm sorry, i..." you started to say as Tommy Interrupted, taking the plate from you.

" Here" he said giving it to a waiter " she doesn't like lamb, get her something else" he ordered, his eyes never leaving you, your cheeks going an embarrassing shade of red, as you looked away, feeling like you had offended him.

" He just wants everything to be perfect for you Y/N" Ada whispered in your ear, sitting beside you .

" Then why do I feel like I've been told off" you whispered back as you reached for the glass of wine In front of you.

" Relax, he's probably nervous too" she said as she nudged your shoulder with hers. Sighing you took a large gulp of wine, too ashamed to even look at him. First the dress now the food, you had begun to learn that Tommy was very particular about certain things, and you was clearly disappointing him already.

A few hours had past since dinner, and Polly had joined you and Ada in conversation, when all of a sudden you felt someone tap you on the shoulder, gaining your attention.

"George!" You said turning around to hug the young man from earlier. " I didn't know you was coming" you told him, your hand still on his arm as Polly looked to Ada, a flicker of concern in her eyes as she scanned the room looking for Tommy.

"I got back from my posting a week ago. Aunt Marianne sent me an invite In the mail, was there when I got back"

" This is my cousin George, I haven't seen in him years" you said as you turned to face Polly and Ada.

" It's nice to meet you George" Polly said as she looked over his shoulder to see Tommy's face now full of fury, as he watched you.

" This really is a nice wedding, your new husband pulled out all the stops " he said chuckling as he placed a friendly hand to the top of your back.

" He did indeed" Polly said as she looked behind him again, to see Tommy marching towards you. "Ada, why don't you go show George the cake" she said urgently, as she took his arm, giving it to her.

"The cake?" Ada laughed, looking at her Aunt in confusion.

" Yes Ada the cake" she said sternly, as Ada rolled her eyes taking George's arm, leading him away.

" Come on Y/N let's go get another drink" she said linking arms with you as she glanced over to see that Tommy had stopped in his tracks, anger spread across his face as he watched you and his Aunt walk away.

"Who was that man Y/N? Tommy asked leaning against the wall, watching you straighten out your dress as you came out the bathroom, an hour later.

"What man?" You asked confused, only for him to let out a dark laugh.

" Don't be smart Y/N, the man you were hugging earlier" he said lightning a cigarette, the flame illuminating the anger in his eyes.

" Well?" He said, walking towards you, his shoulders tense his brow raised. Was he serious? You almost laughed in his face at the ridiculousness of his questions. Tommy's stance was intimidating but this was one thing you refused to give into, you would not enter his little game.

" Grow up Tommy"

" Have something to hide, hm?" He questioned loudly as you tried to push past him, only to be stopped as he grabbed hold of your arm, his pupils widening, a blackness taking over his once crystal blue eyes. You had angered him. Shrugging his grip off, you stormed off, passing Polly as she watched the whole interaction unfold.

" Her bloody cousin, that's who she was hugging. You need to put a lid on your jealousy Tommy" she said walking over to him, anger flashing across her face.

"Jealousy" Tommy scoffed, his hands casually placed in his pockets as he strolled away like nothing had happened.

" Did you think I wouldn't work it out Tommy" she said, her words causing him to stop. " You can fool everyone else with your speeches about needing a wife for business, but not me Thomas Shelby. You have always liked her, why else would you offer to marry a girl you hadn't seen in over ten years, you knew she would do anything for her mother, and you took advantage of that, you're lucky she still likes you too, but your jealousy Tommy...it will one day get the better of you. If you want this to work, you need to back off...Tommy!" She called to him a smirk forming on his lips as he walked away from her, unbothered by his actions.

You had avoided Tommy for the remainder of the evening. Still upset with his behaviour you was sat talking with Ada about what had happened.

" You know he has always liked you, don't you?" Ada said as she looked over to her three brothers standing at the bar. "And don't tell me you never had a thing for him either"

"That was ten years ago Ada" you replied shifting in your seat, as you looked down at your wedding ring.

" Oh come on Y/N, you wouldn't have agreed to this if you didn't still feel something for him"

"Even if I did, we are not exactly of to a great start, you should have seen how he was earlier, he got so angry, I don't remember him ever being like that" you said, as you looked over to Tommy smiling to you, oblivious of your frustration with him.

"He's not the same person you knew from before the war Y/N, it changed him, you need to get to know eachother again. But he cares about you Y/N, I don't think he ever stopped" she answered as she placed a comforting arm around you. She was right, how could you have been so naive to think he was still the same sweet boy from Watery Lane, he was a business man, a feared gangster, a man that had seen war, that would change anyone. But there was something else, the way his pupils turned a sinister black as he grabbed hold of your arm it was possessiveness, controlling. Ada may be right about her brother not being the same person, but did she truly know the man he had become?

" Shall we leave " you heard Tommy say from behind you, more of a statement than a question.

" Right, yeh...ok" you said finishing the rest of your wine, giving Ada a nervous smile as you stood up.

Saying goodbye to your mother you looked over to see Tommy talking with his brothers, Arthur's arm around his shoulder, looking at you as he leaned in, whispering something into his ear. A small chuckle leaving his lips, Tommy looked over to you, his lustful eyes glaring at you from head to toe as he bit his bottom lip. The smile quickly fading from you face, you could only imagine what they were talking about. And that's when it struck you. Did Tommy expect everything a wedding entailed, including the wedding night? A wave of uncertainty washed over you. You barely knew eachother, you had only seen him once before today, and before that ten years ago. Surely he wouldn't expect that from you already?

" You don't say much do you" he said as you was driving to your new home Arrow House, a house he had recently acquired for both of you.

" Sorry, It's been a long day" you said as you played with the lace on your dress.

" Still mad at me? He said glancing over to you.

" Tommy he was my cousin" you answered as you looked over to him. With nothing to say, Tommy just cleared his throat as he looked ahead at the road In front of him. " Don't you trust me?"

" I do, I just don't trust other people" he answered as he shifted in his seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

" We need to get to know eachother again" you said echoing Ada's words, hopeful he was listening. " One day at a time" you hinted subtly, praying he knew what you was referring to.

" We will have plenty of time to get to know eachother" he said as he pulled up In front of the large house you was now supposed to call home.

Opening the passengers side, Tommy took your hand as you stepped out, slamming the door shut after you with force as he led you to the front door.

"Mr Shelby, Mrs Shelby" an older lady welcomed you both in the foyer. " I'm Frances, the housekeeper here at Arrow House" she said as she looked to you, a timid smile on her lips. "If there's anything you need Mrs Shelby then please let me know "

" It's nice to meet you, and thank yo..." you replied, unable to finish your sentence as Tommy started pulling your hand, walking you up the large wooden stairs in haste.

"Thank you Frances, me and wife won't be needing anything more for tonight" he called down as you hurried behind him.

" Don't i get a tour of the house" you said, anxiously praying he would agree as you reached the top of the stairs.

"Tomorrow" he replied sharply, as he opened the door to the master room. Walking in you, you was taken aback by the sheer size of the room, it was as big as the flat you had shared with your mother, the room was filled with large furniture and expensive decorations. Walking over to the vanity, your hands traced over all the various objects, as you looked in the mirror to see Tommy by the door watching you.

" This is my room?"

" Our room" he said, shutting the door behind him. Turning around, with your back to the vanity, your eyes met his as he started walking towards you, stalking you, his glare never once moving from you as he took off his suit jacket, his waist coat quickly following.

"Tommy it's late, I'm tired" you said as your hands clutched onto the wooden vanity behind you.

" Nice try love" he said as he stepped closer, a dark smile on his face as pulled down the suspenders from his shoulders. Eyes full of lust, pupils blown, Tommy looked at you like an animal would look at it's prey.

" Tommy..." you said, as you felt his lips suddenly kissing along your neck, his hand lifting up your dress as his fingers grazed over your body.

" Tommy, wait, slow down" you said, only for his fingers to move to your inner thigh. You couldn't deny his touch felt good, but it was too soon, things were going too fast. You needed time to know him again before you were intimate with eachother.

"Tommy I can't, I'm bleeding" you said as you tried to grab hold of his hand only for him to push it away.

"I want you Y/N, I've waited long enough" he breathed heavily into your neck as his lips ghosted over your throat, moaning into your delicate skin. Too caught up in his desire for you, your words went unheard as Tommy continued trailing his hands further up your thigh. He was relentless, his mind driven to one thing, his eagerness pressing into your thigh.

" I want you too Tommy, but please, not like this" you said your hands on his chest as you tried to gently push him away. Snapping out of It, Tommy abruptly stopped what he was doing as he stepped away from you. His jaw clenched in frustration, he stood there staring at you.

" Are you lying to me?" He said, his hands on his hips, cocking an eyebrow, as he looked at you pulling down your scrunched up dress.

" No Tommy I'm..I'm not" you said trying to figure out what to say. "When you changed the date of the wedding, it just..it happened to be the same week I would be having my monthly bleed" you lied, your eyes trying to avoid the fury in his.

Without saying another word Tommy just glared at you, the heat of his stare burning into your skin. Pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, he turned away from you, grabbing his suit jacket as he stormed out the room, slamming the door shut with so much force the whole room rattled.

Your legs about to give way, you reached over to the bed frame easing yourself down as your thoughts spun in your head.

Who was this man?

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom @swordofawriter @casa-boiardi @muhahaha303 @fmo166

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #killing me softly #tommy shelby imagine

742 notes · View notes

crssvjb · 4 months ago

Text

Stages - Cristiano Ronaldo

Cristiano Ronaldo x model!reader

Summary: Stages of your relationship with football player Cristiano Ronaldo. From the moment you met until your first child.

Getting To Know Him

In 2006, at a fashion event where renowned model Y/N looked stunning on the catwalk, Cristiano Ronaldo, the football star, was fascinated by the model's beauty and magnetic presence. After the parade, Cristiano, determined, approached her to meet her.

– "Hello, I'm Cristiano Ronaldo. I loved your fashion show. You looked stunning." – He praises her.

Y/N smiles, impressed by the player's bold gesture.

– "Thank you, Cristiano. My name is Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you."

– "Your presence on stage is mesmerizing. I would love to know more about you. Will you have dinner with me?" – Cristiano invited her.

- "Glad to."

The Dating - 2006-2007

Over the course of the year, Cristiano and Y/N began a serious relationship. Everyone could see how much the two were in love with each other. The relationship blossoms and, in 2007, Cristiano decides to make a significant statement.

Cristiano decides to create an unforgettable moment to ask Y/N to marry him. Plan a special night out at a beachfront restaurant, where the moon reflects off the crystal clear waters. – "Y/N, since we met, my life has turned into a dream. Today, I want to turn that dream into an eternal reality." – Cristiano began analyzing Y/N’s expression, changing from calm to curious and excited.

– “Cristiano, what are you doing?” – Y/N asked

Cristiano gets down on one knee, revealing a dazzling ring.

– "Y/N, you are everything to me. Will you be my wife, share your dreams with me, grow together, build a life full of love with me?"

Y/N can barely contain her tears of happiness.

– "Cristiano, yes! Of course yes." – Y/N responds through tears.

The restaurant explodes in applause as they embrace emotionally, marking the beginning of a new phase together.

Wedding - 2008

Cristiano and Y/N opted for the tradition of a church wedding, a ceremony that evoked a timeless charm. The church, with its colorful stained glass windows, was the perfect setting to seal their commitment.

Y/N walks down the church aisle, stunning in her wedding dress. The dress is a princess model, with a voluminous skirt and subtle shine. The fitted bodice enhances the elegance of the design, while the skirt flows gracefully with each step.

The long lace veil adds a touch of tradition, creating a fairytale aura. In her hands, Y/N holds a bouquet of fresh flowers, matching the soft colors of her dress.

Cristiano waits for her at the altar, his eyes shining as he sees her approach.

– "You look incredibly beautiful, darling." – Cristiano praises her, as soon as their hands touch.

After the “yes” pronounced with conviction, Cristiano and Y/N leave the church as husband and wife, receiving warm applause from friends and family.

The party takes place in a nearby room, where the tables are covered with white tablecloths and delicate floral arrangements. The dance floor is the center of attention, with twinkling lights lighting the way for the bride and groom's long-awaited dance moment.

Cristiano leads Y/N on the track. – "You look so beautiful, my love."

– "You're making me blush, Cris." – You looked away.

They dance slowly, lost in each other's gaze. Y/N's dress glows delicately under the lights, reflecting the couple's radiant happiness.

The party continues with laughter, lively music and exciting moments. The wedding, simple and elegant, is an authentic celebration of Cristiano and Y/N's love.

The News - November 2009

One peaceful morning, Y/N wakes up feeling a little different. A subtle sensation, but one that does not go unnoticed. She decides to talk to Cristiano.

– “Cristiano, I’ve been feeling a little strange lately, I’m feeling a little sick.” – Y/N said as she entered the room where Cristiano was.

Cristiano, attentive to Y/N's concerns, responds: – "Maybe it's something you ate last night. Let's take care of it, darling."

However, the days pass and the symptoms persist. Worried, Cristiano suggests a visit to the doctor. At the doctor's office, Y/N expresses her concerns and the doctor decides to run some tests.

– "Y/N, let's do some tests to understand what could be causing these symptoms." - The doctor said.

After some tests, Y/N and Cristiano anxiously await the results.

– "Well, here are the results... Y/N, congratulations. You're pregnant."

The office is filled with momentary silence as the news arrives.

Y/N, with tears in her eyes, looks at Cristiano, whose face lights up with a smile.

– "Pregnant? Cristiano, we're having a baby!" – Y/N smiles.

Cristiano stands up and pulls Y/N with him. She hugs her, while whispering in her ear:

– "I'm happy, love. This is amazing! We're about to be parents."

The doctor congratulates and gives guidance, and the couple leaves the office hugging each other, beginning to absorb the news.

– "We're going to be parents. I'm surprised, but happy." – Cristiano murmured.

– "Me too, Cris. This is the beginning of a new journey for us."

The Birth - July 2010

On a summer afternoon in Madrid, Cristiano and Y/N are in the living room of their house, anxious, knowing that their son would soon be here.

Y/N, who had already been having contractions since waking up, felt another one, deciding to get up to drink water.

– “Honey, is everything okay?” – Cristiano asked, a little worried, helping her to get up.

– "Yes, I'm just going to drink a glass of water." – As Y/N headed to the kitchen, something happened.

– "Cristiano, stay calm, okay? I think my water broke." – Cristiano, trying to remain calm, approaches quickly.

– "It's okay, my love. Let's go to the hospital. Stay calm, okay?"

– "I'm calm, love. Calm down. Help me go up to our room and get the bags." – Y/N said, while patting him on the shoulder.

Cristiano helped his wife climb the stairs and go to their shared bedroom, helping her change her clothes.

Cristiano was nervous and anxious, Y/N could see right through him. He went to the baby's room and took his and his wife's suitcase.

They get ready and head to the hospital, where the medical team promptly receives them.

In the delivery room, Cristiano remains next to Y/N, holding her hand affectionately.

– "You look amazing, love. We're about to meet our son." – Cristiano murmurs, kissing your forehead.

Y/N, between deep breaths, smiles at him. - "I look forward to meeting you."

The medical team guides Y/N, while Cristiano remains by her side, offering words of encouragement.

– "I'm here to support you at all times. You are strong, love."

The newborn's cries fill the room, and Cristiano and Y/N exchange an emotional look as they hold little Cristiano Ronaldo Jr.

- "He's so handsome." - Y/N murmurs, looking at the baby in her arms. – “I carried it for nine months and it looks like you.”

Y/N joked, earning a soft laugh from her husband. Cristiano takes his eyes off his son for the first time and looks up, finding his wife with a tired expression on her face, but he doesn't take his eyes off his son.

– "Thank you for everything, Y/N. He's perfect. I love you."

Y/N, exhausted, smiles as Cristiano gently caresses her face.

- "I love you."

It's been a month since Cristiano Ronaldo Jr.'s birth and the family's Madrid home is filled with baby babble. Júnior's grandmother, Dolores, is on her way to meet her grandson for the first time.

Dolores arrives at the family home in Madrid, eager to meet her grandson for the first time. The relationship between Dolores and Y/N dates back to 2006, when Cristiano introduced them, creating a special bond since then.

Cristiano welcomes his mother with open arms. – "Mom, I miss you! Come, you have to meet him."

Y/N, smiling, approaches and greets Dolores. – "Nice to see you again. I missed you."

– “From the moment Cristiano introduced us, I knew you were special.” – Dolores says kissing her daughter-in-law's cheek.

The three enter the room, where Cristiano Ronaldo Jr. is comfortably in his Moses-style bed, awake, curious about the visitor.

Dolores, moved, reaches out to take her grandson.

– "Hello, little Jr. You are the most precious jewel in this family."

Cristiano, looking at Y/N, expresses his gratitude. – "Mom, he's amazing, isn't he?"

– "Yes, Cristiano. And Y/N, I want to thank you. Since 2006, when Cristiano brought you into our lives, I always knew that you would be an essential part of this family."

Y/N, with tears in her eyes, replies: – "Dolores, it's a privilege to be part of this family, really. Cristiano and Jr., they brought more joy to my life."

– "You're not just part of this family, Y/N, you're like a daughter to me. Thank you for making my son happier and for giving us this incredible gift."

Y/N hugs Dolores from the side. – “Your words mean a lot to me. I am grateful for all your generosity and love.”

Cristiano approaches Y/N, placing a kiss on the top of her head as he watches his son in his mother's arms.

⎊𝙘𝙧𝙨𝙨𝙫𝙟𝙗 - ²⁰²⁴

#cristiano ronaldo x reader #cristiano ronaldo x you #cristiano ronaldo x yn #cristiano ronaldo imagine #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine

98 notes · View notes

manias-wordcount · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do a Ganondorf Dragmire x Reader where they met as kids as the readee family is some sort nomadic family and grew to love each other as they grow up. They end up engaged but the Reader ends up becoming sick and dying before they can even do the wedding Ceremony.

Just Yet (Ganondorf x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

The flowers at the altar have already started to wilt.

They were foreign to his homeland. Something pretty that had caught your eye on you many travels, years and years ago. And you were so shy to tell me that those were the flowers you wanted. So quiet when you had to tell him just where exactly those flowers were native to. Yet he made it happen. Sure, they were expensive to have someone cart in. But they were worth every single rupee spent when he saw the look on your face as you watched the tall wedding arch of your dreams come to life right before your eyes.

But you’re not here to look at the flowers anymore. You’re not here to protect them. So there’s no stopping them. There’s no stopping them from wilting. There’s no stopping them from crumbling. No stopping them from dying. Because there was no one to tend to them. To love them, only as you do. And so, they had yet to serve their designed purpose. And now?

They never will.

But even as he kneels here and breathes in the scent of a fragile death, he can still recall the spot where the missing flower was. He took it to you only mere days ago. But now, it feels like weeks maybe even months. However long it’s been, he still remembers the smile you gave him as he took the flower he plucked from the archway and tucked it behind your ear as you laid in your bed. You looked so pretty with such a small, frail thing decorating your hair. You looked too pretty. Too beautiful for this world. Too beautiful for him to ever forget.

Maybe that’s why you decided to hold the flower in your hand instead as you passed on to a new destination. A new destination that he couldn’t follow you to. Not just yet.

Not just yet.

He takes a deep breath. The air that enters his lungs feels cool. Too cool to belong to the desert. But the air he releases feels even colder. Heavier. Sadder. Lonelier. Perhaps your death has hurt more than just his soul. Perhaps even the valley and all its sands have noticed your laughter no longer travels with them. Perhaps the sun and all its rays have yet to process its own grief at the loss of something brighter than themselves. But perhaps right now, it is the temple that feels your loss most of all.

The temple feels so much colder when there aren’t people running around, trying out different decorations, and debating which color swatches truly bring out your eyes the most. It feels empty, even though the decorations for the wedding had been hung a long, long time ago. All the arrangements have been made. The menus for the reception were written up. The ingredients for the feast were bought and prepared. The musicians booked and confirmed. The guest ready to come.

But then days before, you fell ill. Collapsed in the church, for everyone to see. Including your family. Including him. And suddenly the last fitting of his ceremonial clothes was the furthest thing on his mind. Suddenly it’s taking care of your spiking fevers in between your restless bouts of sleep. Suddenly it’s begging you to eat all that you can so that the healers could try a new method or medicine or herb. Suddenly it’s drying your tears as you try to tear his. Only for his tears to fall harder and faster at the sight of you struggling to cup his cheek with little strength you still have left. Suddenly it’s a lot of things. Things that he never thought he would have to go through. Things that he would never wish upon his enemies.

Things that he would never let happen if he had all the power in the world.

He takes another breath in. He releases it, nice and slow. The cold air seeps below his skin. It fills his chest, and it fills his lungs. It keeps him rooted to his knees in front of the altar. It keeps him rooted to his place in this world. It keeps him rooted. It keeps him away from you.

The day he met you as a young, young boy, he felt as though he met a part of himself. A best friend for life. A companion for all of the time. And even though you and your family would move away to explore a new life from time to time, your family always found your way back to his homeland. And you always found your way back to him. It became apparent that sending letters back and forth won’t heal the hole in each other's hearts that form whenever you’re away. And it became apparent that the only way to fix those holes forever was to give you a reason to stay. So he got down on his knee, and he did what he should have done ever since the day that he met you. And you told him yes to the question you wanted him to ask you ever since the day you met him. You told him yes.

But the day he lost you? The day you smiled your last smile? The day your hands finally fell his grip? The day the flowers began to wilt? That was the day he lost himself. Not just one part. One just one half. But all of himself. Every single bit worth living for. Every single bit worth dying for. He’ll never forget the day you died. A day after the two of you were to be wed. And the very day the two of you were supposed to enjoy your forever together. Finally. Finally. But now, he’ll never forget this day for a different reason. He’ll never forget it. The day that you died. The day he lost you. The day the desert turned cold.

Because it was the same day he realized that not even marriage could have kept the two of you in one place. Now all he can do is think. Now all he can do is remember. Now all he can do is kneel. Now all he does is breathe. But it won’t ever bring you back to him. Nothing will ever bring you back to him.

But maybe…maybe it’s time for him to follow after you…

He eyes one of the flowers in the archway. He reaches for the empty spot where yours used to be. And he grabs the dying bud right next to it. He wonders if the desert would grow just a little bit colder if he passed on. He wondered if the desert would even notice. He wonders. He takes a deep breath in. He let it all out.

And then…

He stands.

The archway comes just over his head. But when he stands, he stands as if he’s the tallest man in the world. He stands with his fist at his side and with a frown on his face. He stands with cold air in his lungs and a hole where his heart used to be. But he stands nonetheless.

And he places the flower in his hair. It sits soft and frail in his hair. But it was not crushed by his fingers as he placed it behind his ear. Therefore, he will not be crushed by this loss. Not just yet.

Instead, he chooses to turn on his heel. He chooses to let his footsteps echo through the temple. He chooses not to kneel any longer. He chooses that death will not divide the two of you. It is only another distance. You have traveled far. He will help you travel further than you have ever traveled before.

Because one day he will not be able to think. Because one day he will not be able to remember. Because one day he will not be able to kneel before your archway and ask for forgiveness.

And that will be the day he chooses not to have you find him in his homeland once more. Because that will be the day he chooses to follow you to your rightful place. Because that will be the day he passes from the world. Because that will be the day two of you die your second death. Because that will be the day he’ll finally have you.

Forever.

But not just yet.

193 notes · View notes

geddy-leesbian · 2 months ago

Text

Winterserra Wedding fic 💍💕

word count: 3,300ish

won't be on AO3 for a while because it takes place a pretty long time after the most recent posted chapter of my main Winterserra fic because I've been having horrendous writer's block with some of the in between chapters

start of a steamy scene at one point, but fades to black before anything really explicit happens

also there's one flashback scene (entirely in italics so easily skipped if you want to) taking place while Luis was still pregnant, and the very last scene has Ethan reminiscing and mentioning the pregnancy, it's nothing too major, just putting it out there if anyone's uncomfortable with that

Ethan doesn't have anything particularly time consuming when it comes to getting ready, so after he has his suit on he gets Rosa ready, putting her fancy pink dress and flower crown on. Then he puts on the baby carrier and gets her situated in it. Originally Luis would have worn the carrier walking down the aisle because she was their “flower girl” but that plan was abandoned once Luis had his heart set on an embroidered suit. He didn't want the carrier blocking the designs in the pictures of their vows and kiss, so instead they settled on Ethan wearing her during the ceremony.

Luis on the other hand has a lot to do. As Luis insisted on Ethan not seeing his “bride” before, it falls to Claire to help out. After he gets his suit, a fancy one with pink embroidered designs, Claire does his makeup for him and then helps him with his veil, a lacy very over the top thing that trails behind him. They don't really have much of an aisle, just a handful of chairs with their friends arranged facing a flower arch Claire and Ethan cobbled together. There's also no officiant, because it's just not necessary; there's no legal marriage yet, this is simply for ceremonial purposes. It's not the grand church wedding a younger Luis had once dreamed of, but it's all he needs.

At the altar, Rosa is amused by Luis's veil. She sees his face through it and her own face lights up. Their vows take longer than they should, as they're both amused by Rosa determinedly reaching her arms up to tug on Luis's veil and get distracted.

When Ethan finally lifts up Luis's veil to reveal his face, he can't help but say “peekaboo!” earning giggling and clapping from Rosa while she looks up at Luis. It may not be the most romantic thing to say in a moment like this, but it's going to make a great picture. As Luis leans down, Rosa notices the pink birds and flowers decorating his suit jacket. As they kiss, she runs her fingers over the flowers and tries grabbing one of the birds.

They had a few folding chairs and tables scattered about for the reception. One of the tables had a highchair at it and was more decorated, with pink balloons and a tablecloth. And a pile of small presents. It was also Rosa's half birthday, and they couldn't resist rolling her into the wedding celebrations. After all, their worlds revolved around her and she was the reason they got married today, not years into the future.

As soon as she's placed in her highchair, Rosa reaches her arms out towards the presents.

“You're right, those are for you! Such a smart princess!” Luis praises. “But you can't have them just yet.”

“That's right,” Ethan chimes in, handing Luis the plate with a pink cupcake and getting his camera ready. “Just have to have your cake before getting to presents.”

Rosa eyes the cupcake skeptically when Luis sets the cupcake down on her high chair's tray. Eventually her curiosity wins over and she starts pawing at the cupcake. Still not entirely sold on the concept of solid food, she doesn't try to take a bite of the cupcake, but at least smashes it and licks some frosting off her fingers.

“I'll go get her cleaned up and changed for presents,” Ethan tells Luis, with a peck on the cheek. “You should go ahead and get something to eat. And drink some wine too.

Luis does have a slice of cake and then tries to play a good host with a glass of wine in hand, greeting their handful of friends as he drinks because he knows that the second Ethan comes back with Rosa he'll have tunnel vision and forget it's not just the three of them there.

Ethan brings Rosa back, dressed in her mushroom footie pajamas instead of her fancy dress. Back in her highchair, Luis and Ethan pass her the presents. She's definitely on the younger side as far as ability to open presents go, but her curiosity gives her enough determination to get most of the wrapping paper off each present herself after Ethan or Luis get them started for her. The presents aren't anything big, just toys and some animal picture books, but Rosa will certainly get enjoyment out of them.

It's the hardest thing Luis has ever done, handing Rosa to Claire. But he manages to without shedding a tear, because it's for something he's been looking forward to for a long time: his “first dance” with Ethan. Ethan looks uneasy at the sight of someone else taking his baby, but he stuffs his paranoia down and smiles as Luis pulls him to the dance floor, because he has a promise to keep.

…

“So, Dr. Winters,” Luis teases. “Can you perhaps lift your bed rest order? I've been back a couple weeks, baby's fine, my bruises from the trip are gone. I need to move around, I'm going crazy.” “Is that really what you think, I've been ordering you to rest all the time?” Ethan looks just a little bit horrified by the thought that Luis thinks he's been too controlling. “It wasn't like that, I just offered to bring you things and carry you around because it seemed like you needed it. I wouldn't have stopped you if you started getting out of bed and walking around on your own.” “I'm just teasing, I know you weren't really forbidding me from anything. And I did need the extra help. Really, I was in rough shape. But now that I'm feeling a bit better, I'd like to get on my own two feet again.” “As long as you're feeling up to it,” Ethan says, helping Luis up from the couch. “You just want to walk around outside for a while?” “No. Put some music on, I want to dance with you, mi amor,” Ethan shoots him a skeptical look. “Nothing strenuous! Just some slow dancing so I can get my feet moving and think about how in love with you I am.” “Okay,” Ethan agrees hesitantly, walking over to the stereo to get a CD playing before coming back to Luis. “But you've got a history of not accepting your limits and pushing yourself too hard, so you have to promise me you'll take it really easy and listen to your body when it's telling you to stop.” Figuring out the logistics of dancing is harder than it should be. Ethan can't stand behind Luis and wrap his arms around the front of his waist to sway together because the fact Luis is taller makes it awkward. Eventually they end up facing each other, Luis's arms resting on Ethan's shoulders, Ethan's hands on the sides of Luis's waist. Occasionally his hands wander down to fondle Luis's hips, a pleasant surprise– after the night he accidentally left scratches on his hip, Luis expected him to be too nervous to go anywhere near his hips.

While they make it work, the dancing still isn't ideal. Luis can't get closer like he wants to, can't lean in for a kiss because his damn back hurts all the time and especially hates when he dares to bend it even slightly. He also feels a little bit awkward that he's dancing wearing only his underwear and one of Ethan's shirts. But at least he's touching Ethan and Ethan's touching him and Ethan's looking at him like he's the most important person in the universe.

“God, I hate this. I danced with my first boyfriend a lot. We got fancy with it. Fast, lots of twirling and spinning, dipping…” Luis trails off. “Can't do any of that shit now. I can't even press my body all the way against yours.” “Just a few months. Just a few months and we'll have our princess here and you'll be healed up and able to do everything again,” Ethan reassures. One of his hands leaves his waist to touch Luis's “necklace”– the engagement ring currently on a necklace chain because Luis can't wear it on his finger yet. “You'll be my husband in a few months. And you'll be able to dance however you want at our wedding. I can't promise I'll be able to keep up with the fancy stuff you can do, but I can promise I'll try my best to.”

True to his word, Ethan can't match Luis's grace and speed, but does his best, letting Luis drag him across the makeshift dance floor and twirl him around. Luis is even tipsy enough to dip Ethan with no fear of dropping him, and bite his neck like they don't have an audience.

“Okay, that's enough,” Ethan states when Luis pulls him back to his feet. “I know you're mostly healed, but supporting my weight like that is too much, you're going to hurt yourself.”

Ethan's words get Luis misty eyed. So similar to something Leon once said to him. But for once being reminded of Leon doesn't fill Luis with despair. There was a time when his attraction to Ethan was primarily based on his similarities to Leon, like he was just an inferior substitute to his dead lover. But that changed, and he grew to love Ethan for he really was. His marriage to Ethan won't be anything like being married to Leon would have been, and that's okay. Ethan isn't Leon, but he's the only other person Luis has ever been so head over heels for.

“Hey, was that too much?” Ethan asks, concerned about the tears gathering in Luis's eyes. “Do you need to go inside and lay down?”

“No, I'm okay,” Not wanting to spoil the mood, Luis gives Ethan a reassuring smile. “Just happy tears.”

“Okay. Good,” It's Ethan's turn to drag his new husband away from the dance area back towards Claire. “Rose still needs her fathers-daughter dance. It'll be slow with her, so you won't be pushing yourself.”

Rosa smiles and starts reaching her hands out when she sees her dads walking towards her. No matter how many times it happens, Luis's heart always melts when she smiles at him. Claire compliments their dancing while Luis gets the baby carrier back on, then Claire hands Rosa over, both smiling.

The newlyweds start dancing again, now with their baby in the mix. Sandwiched between her two fathers, swaying with Luis's gentle motions, Rosa is quite content with her current situation.

…

The guests are all gone, it's just the three of them. Ethan moved Rosa's bassinet away from the bed, far enough that she fades into the background, but still in their line of sight and close enough that they won't be worried about something happening to her while they fool around. Then Ethan climbs up on the bed and straddles Luis's lap. They haven't had sex since before Rosa's birth, their longest dry spell. Between how long it's been and the alcohol, Luis quickly feels warm arousal pooling deep inside him. The problem is he also feels the fatigue setting in.

“Luis, get the strap on?”

“How mad would you be if I said I wasn't feeling up to it tonight?”

“Not as mad as I'd be if you weren't feeling up to it and did it anyway because you didn't want to disappoint me,” Ethan gets off Luis's lap but sets a hand on his inner thigh. It's a very intimate but nonsexual gesture– it's the area where the chemical burns caused enough nerve damage that Luis doesn't get much sexual pleasure from it being touched. Which Ethan knows; he's always very careful to stick to the areas that actually feel good when he's trying to get Luis off. “Is it just the topping you're not up for, is there something else we can do?”

“Not anything that's even close to meeting expectations for a wedding night,” Knowing Ethan will insist on asking if there's anything at all Luis would do, he keeps talking. “I'd take oral and fingers. I know you were expecting a lot more tonight, I'm sorry, I'm just a lot more tired than I thought I'd be.”

“It's okay, Luis. We have the rest of our lives to enjoy each other, there's no reason to rush anything, okay?” Ethan repositions himself yet again, moving to straddle one of Luis's thighs and lets his hands wander over Luis's body, down his chest and stomach. One hand cups his hip and stays there, his other hand hesitantly traces the skin just about the waistband of Luis's underwear, waiting for permission to go further. “You ready?”

…

Luis is set for the best sleep of his life– he's had a long day of activity, and a great orgasm courtesy of his fiancé's husband's fingers. And Rosa should be tired out enough to sleep through the night.

Right when he's on the edge of sleep, he hears Rosa start fussing in her bedside bassinet. Luis just sighs. She should be fine. While Luis had been undressing and taking his makeup off, Ethan had changed and fed her. Soon she stops crying and starts babbling. Just nonsensical strings of syllables she enjoys saying.

“Do you want me to go downstairs with her so you can sleep?” Ethan asks.

“No,” Luis replies. “I don't mind the babbling.”

Her bassinet is on Luis's side of the bed, so Ethan still has to get up to grab her, even though he's just moving her to the bed and not leaving the room.

“Hey, Rosa, what do you want?” Ethan asks, and he gets a gibberish response along the lines of ‘bababababa.’ “Bottle already? You ate just a little bit ago.”

“Babababa. Bick. Bookeh,” Luis manages to lift his heavy eyelids and reaches towards his nightstand, finding a book to hold up. Rosa reaches her arms out and starts squirming in Ethan's arms, trying to get to the book. They'd skipped the bedtime story routine tonight, expecting that the wedding would have been enough activity and stimulation that she'd be ready to fall asleep without being read to. They thought wrong, evidently. “Bookeh! Bookeh!”

“You picked a bad time to say your first word. Me and Daddy are too beat to properly celebrate it tonight,” Suddenly less exhausted, Luis sits up and scoots over so he's shoulder to shoulder with Ethan, and then opens the picture book and places it where Rosa's little hands can reach the pages. “And I must admit, I'm a little disappointed your first word wasn't Daddy. But it's okay, book is a good word.”

“Sometimes it feels like she's less our daughter and more your clone. Your skin tone, your eyes, your hair. And clearly she's got your smarts too,” Ethan smiles and kisses Luis's cheek. “Not that I'm complaining. I know you don't believe you're perfect, but I do, so her taking more after you is perfect in my eyes.”

Ethan lets the conversation die there, shifting his focus from Luis back to Rosa and starts reading the book to her. Luis lays back down. As much as he wants to stay up with his little family longer, he really is exhausted. It was a long day with far more physical activity than Luis is used to. And as much as Luis hates to admit it, deep down he knows his body still isn't at 100%. He feels a hell of a lot better at 6 months postpartum than he did at 6 weeks, but he still doesn't have as much energy as he used to and finds himself needing more sleep than he's ever needed before. Between the mold making him superhuman and the fact he isn't a few months postpartum like Luis is, Ethan is far more equipped to stay up long enough to get Rosa settled and ready to sleep.

Luis dozes off listening to Ethan read, and Rosa cooing and babbling in response to the story and pictures.

…

“I loved you from the moment I found out you existed,” Ethan speaking and a page turning is what Luis hears as soon as he wakes up. “Don't tell him I said this, but I was pretty mad at your papi when he told me he was having you. I loved him and he was giving me something I'd wanted for a really long time, getting to start a family. But he kept you a secret for a long time. He hid everything as long as he could. It made me upset because everything would have been easier if he'd told me sooner and I could have taken care of him and stopped him from doing some stupid things and had more time to–”

“Wow,” Luis says, light-heartedly. There was a time Ethan's words would have hurt him, but it's water under the bridge now. Luis knows he handled the situation badly, but he also knows Ethan has forgiven him for everything, and he's secure in that knowledge. Gone are the days of Luis waking up alone and having a panic attack because the hormones convinced him that Ethan must have abandoned him and their unborn child. He rolls over and sits up, seeing Ethan going through their family scrapbook with Rosa, of course open to a couple of the pages covering the pregnancy. She smiles and coos over the pictures, recognizing Luis's face. “Shit talking me to our daughter the morning after our wedding?”

“You weren't supposed to hear that,” Ethan's face goes white as a ghost. “But I was just about to get to how I understood why you hid that you were pregnant and forgave you.”

“Relax, mi regalo. I'm not upset. You had every right to be mad at me, for more than just hiding things. I'm glad you're fine being one and done, because I can't imagine going through those hormones again, I don't know how you put up with me yelling at you and crying over nothing everyday for two months…” Luis lays back down and closes his eyes. He knows all the pictures in the album well enough to imagine anything Ethan might be pointing to. “Pretend I'm still asleep and keep going through the album with her, I don't want to ruin your special moment.”

“Well, as I was saying, even though I was mad I still loved both of you. I forgave your papi fast. I couldn't be mad when he showed me the pictures of you. I couldn't be upset when I knew I'd be holding a perfect baby in a couple months. So I took good care of him to make sure you'd both be healthy and proposed because I already knew I wanted to be with him forever. And a couple months later…” Luis hears Ethan turn the page, and then more cooing. “A couple months later… I don't know if this is really my story to tell…” Ethan pauses, waiting for Luis to jump in, but he stays quiet. Frankly, it's more Ethan's story to tell. The pain was enough to fog up Luis's memories of the day. “It was a little bit scary. I was scared something could be wrong with you and it would be my fault because I'm infected with mold, and your papi was in a lot of pain and I was scared I could lose both of you. But you were born and you were perfect, even a little bigger and smarter than you should have been. And Papi had a hard time and needed a lot of rest, but he was okay and even wanted to take care of you right after.”

“This is when I was going to read you a letter I wrote you for your half birthday last night when I couldn't sleep, but,” Ethan pauses and glances over at Luis. “We're not alone like I thought we'd be and it's a little embarrassing how sappy I got, so let's save that for another day.”

#im aware 6 months is very very young for a baby's first word but rosa is a magic mold baby so she can hit milestones early ok #this has had my brain in a chokehold i'll Try to work on the prompts in my inbox rn now that this is out of my system #luis serra #luis serra navarro #ethan winters #winterserra #𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒂🍄#my writing #🔥𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒔🔥

20 notes · View notes

gratelove · 16 days ago

Text

Okay yall, I’m a little late to the party, but Rollo Lothbrok🫣 I’m only on season 3 of Vikings and I’m officially in love with the beauty of this man. Be prepared for more Vikings fics🤤 Also, this is a LONG fic, but it’s worth it!🥹

Bridge Between Worlds

Rollo Lothbrok x Reader

In a marriage arranged for political alliance, you, a Christian princess, and the Viking warrior Rollo find yourselves unexpectedly drawn together, bridging the divide between your faiths, cultures, and hearts.

Warnings: smut, fluff, struggles with faith, religion, drinking, cursing

The grand hall fell silent as your father’s voice rang out, echoing through the stone walls. His words seemed to linger in the air, heavy with purpose, like a chain slipping over your wrists. “The Northmen have proposed an alliance, my daughter,” he said, his gaze steady as he looked at you. “King Ragnar has offered his brother, Rollo Lothbrok, to wed you. This marriage will bring peace to our lands and protection from their raids.”

The room seemed to close in, the walls pressing down as you struggled to breathe. Marry a Northman? The very thought filled you with dread. You’d heard tales of these people—warriors who worshipped strange gods, men who swept through villages like storms, leaving only ruin in their wake. And now, to bind yourself to one of them, to Rollo Lothbrok of all people… It was unthinkable.

“But, Father,” you protested, your voice wavering. “Surely, there must be another way to secure peace. A treaty, a negotiation—anything but marriage.”

Your father’s gaze softened, but his voice held the iron weight of duty. “This is the only way, my daughter. We need this alliance. You have always known that your marriage would serve a greater purpose, and now that purpose is upon us.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat. Your life had been a careful sequence of preparations for this role, every lesson, every sermon instilling in you the virtue of self-sacrifice. You’d known that one day your life would be bound to someone chosen for you, but you had always imagined it would be to a noble from a nearby kingdom, someone who shared your faith, your values. Not to a pagan warrior from a distant, brutal land. A beast more than a man.

And yet, you had no choice. The Northmen’s proposal had been clear, and your father had already accepted it. The fate you had so long been prepared for was now sealed.

***

The day of your wedding dawned, cloaked in an eerie stillness. The grand church where you were to wed Rollo was adorned with flowers and candles, symbols of a sacred union. You wore a gown of fine lace, your veil trailing behind you like a whisper of grace. You felt numb, as if moving through a dream—or a nightmare—waiting for the moment to be over, waiting for the reality of it to settle.

Rollo stood at the altar, a tall, imposing figure, his features set in a mask of silent defiance. He looked as out of place as you felt, his gaze hard and unyielding, his mouth a tight line. When he glanced your way, his eyes were unreadable, a mixture of resentment and resignation. It was clear that he, too, had little desire for this union.

The priest began the ceremony, his voice a steady drone of Latin prayers. You barely heard the words, your mind elsewhere, tangled in memories of home, family, the life you were leaving behind. Each phrase, each gesture, seemed hollow, an imitation of the wedding you’d once imagined as a child. This was supposed to be a moment of joy, of love. But there was no warmth here, only the cold formality of duty.

When the priest instructed Rollo to take your hand, he did so without meeting your gaze, his grip firm but impersonal. His hands were rough, scarred from battle, the hands of a man who had known violence more than tenderness. You felt the weight of his touch, solid and unyielding, a reminder that you were bound now to this stranger.

The priest continued, his voice a solemn echo as he blessed your union, but you could see the slight hesitation in his eyes. This marriage between a Christian princess and a heathen warrior defied every tradition, every vow that was meant to sanctify it. And yet, the ceremony proceeded, binding you together in the eyes of your God and your people.

When the vows were exchanged, Rollo spoke the words in a language foreign to him, his voice thick with an accent that turned each promise into something distant, almost detached. You struggled to keep your voice steady as you repeated your own vows, feeling as though you were surrendering more than your hand. You were giving up your life, your dreams, to a man who would never understand you, nor you him.

As the ceremony ended, the church fell silent, a strange, somber quiet lingering between you and Rollo. The people gathered offered their restrained applause, their faces a mixture of relief and curiosity. To them, this was a strategic victory, a bridge between two worlds, but to you and Rollo, it was a prison.

You stole a glance at him, trying to discern any hint of emotion in his eyes. But his face remained a stoic mask, unreadable and distant, as if he, too, were waiting for this day to be over.

That night, as the festivities continued, you and Rollo exchanged only the briefest of nods, acknowledging each other out of obligation more than anything else. You sat at opposite ends of the grand table, separated by language, by faith, by the vast chasm of your different worlds.

And so, as the night grew darker, you resigned yourself to this new life, feeling like a stranger in your own skin. Bound by vows spoken in words that felt foreign, you wondered if you would ever find warmth in the cold, unyielding presence of the man you now called your husband—or if this marriage would remain as empty and silent as the vows you had uttered in that grand, hollow church.

***

The sea air of Kattegat was colder than anything you’d known back home. The winds held a bite, reminding you each day that you were far from the familiar warmth of your homeland. It had been a month since you’d arrived, a month of silent days and sleepless nights in a place that felt like another world. Though married, you and Rollo had barely exchanged a glance since arriving, your only link to understanding his world was the quiet monk Athelstan, who patiently taught you Norse.

Days passed in strange routine. The Northmen spoke a language rough and wild, each word sounding like thunder to your ears. But Athelstan was a skilled teacher, and over time, the foreign words began to settle into your mind. Slowly, painstakingly, you came to understand snippets of conversation, whispers of words. And though you’d never spoken to him directly, you felt Rollo’s presence more keenly than anyone else’s.

Beyond learning their language. You learned of their gods.. gods that were not so different from the one you knew to be true. In the quiet moments of your days in Kattegat, when the biting northern winds were at rest and the village hummed with the peaceful rhythm of daily life, you found yourself questioning truths you had once accepted without hesitation. This land was raw, its people fierce, yet you had begun to notice an undeniable beauty here. And with it came questions—questions that took root deep within your heart, challenging the very foundations of your beliefs.

At first, the differences between you and these people had seemed insurmountable. Their rituals, their prayers to unseen gods of thunder, fertility, the sea, and the harvest—all of it seemed like blasphemy to your ears. Yet, as the days turned to weeks, you saw their reverence, how their lives were woven with purpose and respect for the land, for each other, and for forces they couldn’t see but trusted in deeply.

They worship their gods as we worship ours, you thought one day, watching as a woman carved runes into a wooden charm meant to protect her family. They seek strength, guidance, blessings. Are they so different from us?

The question unsettled you, and you struggled against it, recalling sermons from your homeland, the teachings that painted pagans as savages, their gods as dark spirits. But there was light in these people, too, wasn’t there? A unity, a sense of duty, and a love for family that you had always been taught were the virtues of your own faith.

Your gaze often drifted to Athelstan, your quiet teacher and guide in this foreign world, who had once been a Christian monk but had found himself torn between the faith of his past and the gods of the North. You wondered if he felt the same turmoil you did. Perhaps he, too, had wrestled with questions of what was true and what had been constructed by the hands and minds of men. After all, Athelstan had once told you that the Vikings’ gods had existed long before Christ had walked the earth.

This thought lodged in your mind, growing roots you couldn’t shake. Could it be possible, you wondered late one night, lying awake in the cold silence of your home, that the stories of my faith were born from theirs?

You thought of the tales you’d been told in church, stories of miracles, sacrifices, and holy men who could summon storms, heal the sick, or commune with higher beings. But here, you had seen similar stories told around the fires in the evenings—stories of gods who controlled the weather, who guided their people, who demanded sacrifices to keep balance in the world. You watched the children listen with wide eyes, just as you once had, their awe and reverence echoing your own memories of kneeling in a grand church, captivated by stories of your God.

And the symbols—they weren’t as different as you’d once thought. The hammer of Thor, which hung on a leather cord around the neck of nearly every warrior, wasn’t so unlike the cross worn by priests and devout nobles back home. Both symbols represented strength, protection, a hope that something greater watched over you.

What if, you wondered, heart thundering with the weight of the thought, these people had seen the same truths but woven them differently? What if, in some ancient past, we had all followed the same gods, the same ways, and only time had divided us?

It was a question you dared not voice, even to Athelstan. But the idea stirred something within you, something that frightened and intrigued you all at once. You felt the weight of the cross you still wore around your neck, a symbol of your devotion, yet here, it felt somehow…lonelier than before. Was it possible that your understanding of the divine had been limited by the walls of a church, by teachings passed down without question?

Each day you rose and went about your new duties, the questions circling in your mind like a hawk over the fields. Each time you watched Rollo go to the sacred woods or pour mead onto the earth in an offering, you felt a strange pull, a whisper in your heart that perhaps the world was larger and more mysterious than you had ever allowed yourself to believe.

One night, as you lay beneath the northern stars, you found yourself praying, not just to your God but to whatever forces might hear you. A strange peace settled over you then, as if your heart had found a rhythm that it had been seeking all along, something beyond names and symbols—a sense of connection to the world around you, to the mysteries and wonders that spanned both your people and his.

For the first time, you felt that perhaps there was more than one way to honor the divine, more than one truth, and that perhaps, in marrying Rollo, you had not been lost to a foreign faith but rather drawn closer to understanding the many ways humanity sought to make sense of this world and the next.

***

One evening, after a long day of lessons, you returned to your new home, hoping for the comfort of a bath to soothe your weary body and mind. You went to the small, private bathing room, where a tub of steaming water awaited. But as you reached to untie your dress, you found yourself struggling, your hands fumbling clumsily over the stubborn knots at your back. Frustration welled up, and you cursed softly under your breath, wishing for just one familiar comfort in this strange, foreign life.

Suddenly, a presence loomed behind you, close enough that you could feel his warmth. You froze as a large, rough hand gently touched your shoulder.

“Let me,” came the deep voice, and you knew instantly it was Rollo. His voice was as rough as the northern winds, yet softer than you’d ever heard it, as if afraid to shatter the silence that had always lain between you.

You held your breath as he deftly began to untie the laces, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked through the knots with ease. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, his closeness overwhelming, every brush of his fingers against your back sending sparks down your spine.

Once he had loosened the dress, he lingered, his hands resting against the fabric at your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat quicken, and with a shaky breath, you finally turned to look at him. His intense blue eyes met yours, filled with an unreadable depth.

“Thank you,” you murmured in Norse, proud yet hesitant as you stumbled over the unfamiliar sounds.

His lips curved, just barely, in something close to a smile. “You’ve learned our language well,” he replied, his voice low. “I am…impressed.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked down. “I wanted to understand. To not feel like a stranger here.” There was a long moment of silence before you finally spoke the question you had been wondering since you arrived. “Will we have a pagan wedding?”

Rollo looked at you with confusion. “We already had a wedding.”

“Yes, but that was a Christian wedding. Our marriage is not recognized in the eyes of your gods, therefore… we are not truly married. Not in the eyes of you or your people.” You held up your, now falling, dress as it slumped around your shoulders.

“Is that what you want? For us to not truly be married?” You hadn’t realized how difficult the answer to that question would be. You would have assumed you would have immediately said yes, but now, in this moment… you’re not so sure.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? You do not love me.” Rollo scoffed at your words.

“As you do not love me, Princess.”

“Yes, but I love no one. You do love someone, it’s just not me.” Rollo’s eyes widened at your words and he came so close to you, you could feel his breath on your cheeks.

“What do you know of who I love?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, realizing you had hit a sensitive spot.

“I know more than you think, husband. I’m not some stupid and scared girl. The whole month I’ve been here, I’ve been quiet and observant.” Rollo rolled his eyes, taking a few steps back.

“And what is it that you have observed?” You nodded, holding your chin high in retort to his evident doubt.

“I’ve noticed that you are angry. At both yourself and your brother. You’re jealous of him. You feel you are less than and this makes you infuriated. I know you’re in love with Lagertha, but she has never shared that feeling. Though I never knew Siggy, I see the way you act when people talk about her. You loved her, but not in the way you love Lagertha. For this you carry guilt and it fuels your self hate. Did I observe correctly?” Rollo’s expression was one of frustration and astonishment.

“You’ve been busy, Princess. Do you agree with your observations? Am I less than Ragnar?” His question took you by surprise, but didn’t at the same time. The idea that he cares for your opinion is shocking, but not that he needs the validation.

“The truth?” He nods in response. “I think you are a great man. I think you’re honorable and kind. You’ve never forced yourself on me when you could have. You treat me well when you do not have to. As much as you are jealous of your brother, I truly believe that you love him and would not hurt him. You are an honorable warrior, which from my understanding is one of the things you Northmen pride yourselves on. Why you do not see yourself as such, I dont understand. Even my people back home knew your name, Rollo. The Bear, they called you.” A smile spread on his face at the name, and you couldn’t help the one that found yours. “I am proud to be the wife of a man with such high honor.” Rollo was silent for what felt like eternity, just staring at you. You began to feel self conscious, pulling your falling dress as high as you could, and dipped your head to hide your face. “Why are you just staring at me?”

“I suppose I’m surprised. You do not talk to me the entirety of our marriage and the first time you open your mouth you have insulted me and spoken so highly of me in one sitting. I thought you hated this marriage,” he said, each word measured. “I thought you hated…me.”

You looked up, startled by the honesty in his gaze. This was the first real conversation you’d had, the first true exchange, and it struck you how different he seemed now than the man you’d first met. Gone was the stoic warrior, replaced by a man with insecurities, a man who, perhaps, felt as much a stranger to you as you did to him.

“It was never hate,” you whispered, choosing your words carefully. “Fear, maybe. But not hate.”

His hand lifted, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair as if testing the boundaries of this new understanding between you. “You are braver than you think,” he murmured, his voice like a quiet promise. “More brave than I.”

You swallowed, your heart thundering in your chest. “No, Rollo. Not braver than you.” He smiled, his hand slipping from your cheek to your neck.

“You speak your opinion where I cannot. That’s much braver than facing battle.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood as his hand danced from your neck to your exposed shoulder.

“Maybe we are just brave in different ways. Maybe we can teach each other.” He stepped closer, his fingers curling around the loose neckline of your dress.

“You want to learn to fight?” You shrugged, a smile finding your lips.

“If I am to be a Northeman’s wife, I should learn their ways, no? You teach me the skills of battle and I shall teach you the skills of wit.” He began to pull the fabric of your dress down and you clutched it. He stopped, his eyes meeting yours. “Rollo, I’m…” you realized you did not know what the word was in their language. You searched your mind for it.

“You’re what?” You took a deep breath, embarrassed to have to explain.

“I’ve never been with a man. I don’t know the word in your language.” Rollo chuckled, grabbing your small hand that was holding your dress up.

“Ah, virgin,” he said, squeezing your hand, as if to ask if he could remove your clothes.

“Virgin,” you repeat and he nods.

“Yes, Princess. You are my wife. Should we not bed at least once during our marriage?” You felt your cheeks getting hotter as you finally succumbed to him. Your hand released and your dress fell, pooling at your feet. Your hands covered your breasts, feeling too exposed. His large, scarred, hands clasped your wrists lightly, pulling them down to your sides. “There is no need to hide from me, my wife.” His calloused fingers ran down your exposed chest, to your stomach, stopping at your hip. Goosebumps lit ablaze across your whole body. “It is as if you were carved by the gods.” You giggled as he pulled you close, your bare chest now flush with his.

“As were you, Rollo.” Your palms lay against his chest.

“My gods or yours,” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I haven’t decided yet, but being here… I do question if my god is even real,” you say honestly.

“Are we turning you into a pagan,” you laugh, shrugging.

“I’m starting to think it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” With that, his lips are against yours, hot and wanting. You moaned into his mouth, entranced by how warm he is, how his beard tickled your cheeks with each synchronized movement of your lips. His hands gripped your hips, picking you up with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your lips never leaving one another. He walked you to the bed, gently laying you down.

He got off the bed, standing at the edge. You watched as he undid his pants. His eyes never leaving yours as he moved slowly to untie the laces. He is a man of beauty. Perfectly chiseled and large. His long hair flows down his chest and his tattoos perfectly caress his skin.

“After tonight, we will be officially married in the eyes of your god, no?” You peeled your eyes away from admiring his body to meet his gaze.

“Yes. We never… I don’t know the word. To make a marriage official, the man and wife must lie together.” He pulled his pants down, revealing himself to you fully, as you are to him. You sucked in a breath, an undeniable feeling of want and nervousness filling you.

“Do you want to lie with me? To truly be husband and wife?” He ran his finger along your collarbone, down to your nipple. He circled it lightly and you couldn’t help the moan that came with it. He smiled, licking his lips. You grabbed his wrist, using it to pull yourself to your knees. You are now face to face with him at the edge of the bed. You grabbed his other wrist, placing both palms on your breasts.

“I want you. Just- just be gentle, okay?” He kissed your cheek as his hands squeezed your chest.

“Northmen are not gentle. We do not fuck gently.” He kissed your neck.

“As much as I want you to fuck me like a Northman, I’ve been told your first time hurts.” You looked down at his already hard cock, feeling yourself getting more nervous. “And you are quite large.” This made Rollo laugh as he continued to trail kisses across your neck and chest.

“Don’t worry, Princess. Me and my large cock will be gentle.” You giggled and slapped his chest, making him laugh again. He laid you back down on the fur covered bed, climbing on top of you. You took in a deep breath as he spread your legs. “Don’t be nervous, my beautiful wife.” The words made butterflies erupt in your chest. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, easing the tightening in your stomach. He grabbed your hands, holding them above your head. He continued to leave gentle kisses as he slowly started to enter you. You squeezed his hands so hard you’re sure your knuckles were white as he pushed farther inside you. He is extremely large and you wince in pain from you being stretched open.

“Rollo,” you whined and he stopped, meeting your gaze. You gave yourself a minute to adjust, then nodded your head. He continued pushing in further until he was finally fully in you. He pulled out, then slowly thrusted back in. His movements were slow and gentle and eventually the pain turned into pleasure. Pleasure like you’ve never experienced. Your head tipped back and your mouth fell open, letting out a moan.

“Does it feel good, Princess?” His hot breath hit your neck as he whispered in your ear and it lit something wild in you.

“Go faster,” you moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him more access. You felt him push in deeper as he picked up his pace. He was hitting deeper and deeper inside you with each thrust and your eyes fluttered shut at the intense pleasure.

“You look so beautiful.” You opened your eyes to see he is staring at you, drinking in your appearance. Staring into his blue eyes makes all the sensations better. He rested his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help but fall in love with the way he is staring at you as he thrusts harder and deeper inside you. The room is filled with each other’s moans and gasps. You feel yourself reaching a point of release and you can tell he’s about to hit his too. He kissed you passionately as his thrusts become sloppier. You moaned into his mouth as a wave a euphoria rushed over you and your legs shake from utter pleasure. You feel him release inside you and he rides out his high with a few more thrusts.

He laid next to you on the bed and you rolled over to lay your head on his chest. His heart is beating fast and his breaths are short. You ran your fingers up and down his abdomen as you both fall into a comfortable silence. You’re not sure where you find your confidence, but the words that finally come out of your mouth surprise not only you, but Rollo.

“I do not love you, Rollo Lothbrok. But, I can see my falling in love with you.” You meet his shocked expression, but it eventually turns soft.

“Goodnight, my beautiful wife.”

***

The night air of Kattegat was alive with laughter and song, the flickering torchlight casting a warm glow over the village as the Vikings celebrated with wild abandon. Mead flowed like rivers, horns clashing in toasts to the gods, to family, to life itself. You felt the familiar warmth of the drink pulse through you, each sip lighting your blood with a fire you hadn’t known before coming to this land. Tonight, you danced without restraint, twirling with the crowd in the great hall, your feet moving with the beat of the drums, the earth beneath you thrumming with life.

You had grown accustomed to the spirit of Viking celebrations, their passion for life something you had come to appreciate. Though you were not of their faith, their customs, or their world, the sense of freedom here was intoxicating, a heady contrast to the strict life you had known. Tonight, you felt a part of it all. For the first time, you truly felt like you belonged.

The world around you was a blur of laughter, music, and flickering torchlight. You spun and swayed, your feet carrying you to the beat of the drums, your heart pounding with the thrill of freedom, of finally feeling as though you belonged here in Kattegat. The mead warmed your blood, filling you with a giddy lightness that melted away your reservations. This was a new side of you, one that you hadn’t known before—a part of you that had found joy in this wild land, surrounded by people who embraced life as fiercely as they embraced battle.

As you moved, you caught sight of Rollo, standing on the edge of the crowd, watching you. His intense gaze was steady, following your every movement. His face, usually hardened by shadows and silent restraint, now held something softer, almost tender. You felt his stare like a touch, tracing over you, lingering with an appreciation that made your pulse quicken. You and Rollo had not been able to go a few hours without being intimate since your first time.

Without thinking, you met his eyes and smiled, your feet carrying you closer. He didn’t move, his stare unwavering, as if transfixed. The other dancers melted away, leaving only him in your focus, your heart pounding louder than the drums. Before you could second-guess yourself, you held out your hand, a silent invitation, your eyes daring him to join you.

For a moment, Rollo hesitated, his usual guarded expression flickering with uncertainty. But then, slowly, he reached out, his large hand enveloping yours, and you pulled him into the crowd. He stumbled slightly, unused to this kind of playfulness, but his eyes remained locked on yours, an amused glint sparking there as he let you lead.

You laughed, feeling as though the walls between you and this man, the ones that both had been breaking down slowly, were finally crumbling completely. You pressed his hand to your waist, guiding him to follow your movements, his body close to yours as the drums echoed in the night. Though he towered over you, his presence solid and intense, you felt a softness in the way he held you, his grip firm but gentle.

“Are you sure you know how to dance, warrior?” you teased, your voice light and filled with the boldness that only mead could bring.

He huffed, a smirk breaking across his face. “Dancing is not the way of a Viking. At least not the way you dance, Princess,” he replied, his voice deep, but his eyes sparkled with unspoken laughter. “But for you… I will try.”

The two of you moved together, your laughter mingling as you guided him through each step, each sway. His movements were unpracticed, slightly stiff, yet he relaxed with every beat of the drum, letting himself be drawn into your rhythm. It was as if the crowd, the village, the night itself faded, leaving only the two of you bound in this moment, where titles and gods and duty did not matter.

You felt his hand tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face. The playful smiles faded, and in their place, a deeper warmth simmered between you, something vulnerable and unspoken.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the music, his gaze tracing your face as if memorizing every detail. “So Free. So Happy.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing over his hand. “I feel alive here, Rollo,” you whispered.

His thumb gently stroked your cheek, a tenderness in his touch that you’ve grown accustomed to since the night you first made love four months ago. “Then perhaps,” he said, his voice rough, “this land, this life, is more yours than you thought.”

You felt a swell of warmth in your chest, a feeling that chased away the last remnants of doubt. Here, with him, in this wild, untamed place, you had found a part of yourself you never knew was there—a part that yearned for freedom, for belonging, for love.

The drums beat on, but the world around you was still, your gaze locked with his, the silent understanding between you deepening. And as he lowered his forehead to rest against yours, his breath warm against your skin, you realized that the music had stopped. Everyone around you had gone quiet. You and Rollo broke contact to see the cause of it. Walking through the great hall doors was Athelstan. Bjorn had told you both that the monk had thrown his sacred arm ring into the fjord.

Rollo’s voice thundered through the crowd. “Athelstan,” he roared, his voice laced with anger.

The crowd quieted, all eyes turning to the monk-turned-Viking who had lived with one foot in both worlds. Rollo stormed toward him, his face twisted with rage, and gripped Athelstan’s wrist, holding it up for all to see. “Look at this man!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the night. “Where is your sacred ring, Athelstan? I was told you through your ring, the one our king, Ragnar, gave you into the fjord!”

You felt the blood drain from your face as you watched, horrified by Rollo’s fury. You had always known Athelstan was a man of two worlds, like yourself—caught between his old faith and the ways of the Northmen. A pang of sympathy tore through you, a deep understanding of the pain and doubt he must have felt to make such a decision.

Athelstan’s eyes darted toward the crowd. “You have betrayed the gods who welcomed you,” Rollo growled. “You stand here, pretending to honor both, but now we see who you truly are.”

Ragnar pushed through the crowd and wrapped an arm around Athelstan’s shoulder. He dragged him away from the crowd, into a back room, whispering something in his ear.

The celebration resumed, though it was subdued, the laughter tinged with unease. You lingered near the fire, lost in thought, watching as Rollo stalked away, his jaw tight with anger. Before you knew it, you followed him, the words you’d held back now bubbling to the surface.

When you both arrived at your shared home, you closed the door behind you, crossing your arms as you gathered the courage to speak. “Why are you so angry at Athelstan?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve always known he was torn between both faiths, just as I am. Why is it different now?”

Rollo turned, his face dark and unreadable in the dim light. “You don’t understand,” he replied coldly. “Athelstan has cast aside his ring. He has thrown it away, shown us he has no loyalty to anything but his Christian god. He cannot be trusted.”

“Cannot be trusted?” you echoed, frustration flaring in your chest. “Athelstan has always been loyal to you, to your brother, to your people. His struggle with faith does not make him any less trustworthy.”

Rollo’s gaze hardened. “He is weak. He cannot choose between one god or another, and now I see he tried to be something he’s not. He insulted the gods by pretending to be one of us.”

“But you do not see it, Rollo,” you pressed, your voice trembling with a blend of anger and desperation. “I see myself in him. I, too, am torn between worlds—between my God and your gods, between my homeland and yours. Am I a betrayer because I am still finding my way?”

Rollo’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he just clenched his fists, his voice low and fierce. “You must choose as well. You cannot love both. You cannot be a Christian and a Viking.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of sadness as you looked into his eyes. “Athelstan was struggling, just as I am. Faith is not a simple choice, Rollo. It’s complicated, and sometimes it takes time to understand what it truly means. He was searching for where he belongs, and he has found it. This does not mean he cannot love your people… just as I love you.”

Rollo’s shoulders tensed, his eyes going wide. It’s the first time you had said it. Neither of you had ever spoken those words. You weren’t even sure if Rollo loved you. You felt embarrassment and anger at his lack of words.

“Is this why we have not had a Viking wedding? Because you feel I have not chosen your gods?” You felt tears pricking your eyes, but you fought to hold them back.

“If you do not choose our gods, we will never be in Valhalla together.” You scoffed, wiping a tear that slid down your cheek.

“Why does it matter if I end up in Valhalla or Heaven? You clearly do not love me back, so why do you care which afterlife I spend my days?” You began to turn away from him, but he grabbed you wrist, pulling you into his chest. His hand met your cheek, wiping away one of your tears.

“I do love you. But everyone I have ever loved either died or did not love me back.” You met his gaze and your heart hurt at the sight of tears in his eyes.

“Rollo, everyone dies. Just because the people around you die, does not mean you’re the cause of it. You cannot be afraid of death. You, more than anyone, know that. You Northmen do not fear death.”

“It is not death that I fear. What I fear is loving a woman who will not join me in Valhalla. It is not being able to spend eternity with you.” You stood on your toes to reach his lips. You gave him a soft kiss, then pulled away to meet his sadden gaze.

“I love you and I would do anything to spend eternity with you. We were fated to be together, Rollo. I can feel it. No matter what god willed it to be.” He looked down at you, his expression softening further, the anger that had once filled his gaze replaced by something warmer, deeper. In that moment, you felt that perhaps, just as Athelstan was searching, you and Rollo were finding something—a bridge between worlds, a space where faith, love, and understanding could coexist, no matter how different they seemed.

“We were fated to be together.” He pulled you as close as he could, kissing you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing taller to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you were both out of breath.

“Does this mean we will have a wedding?” He let out a deep chuckle, nodding.

“Yes, of course we will.” A smile spread across your face.

“Good, because I wouldn’t want our child to be born without married parents.” You grabbed his hand, resting it on your belly. His face lit with excitement and he let out a laugh.

“You’re… you’re with child?” You nodded, tears falling freely to see the joy that found his rough and beautiful face. He picked up you, twirling you around. You let out a laugh as he set you down, kissing you.

You nodded, unable to stop smiling. “Yes, Rollo. You’re going to be a father.”

He let out a shout of pure happiness, his arms wrapping around you again, holding you tight as if he were afraid you might disappear. His hand returned to your stomach, resting there reverently, his thumb brushing over the place where new life grew.

“I cannot believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining. “You… you have given me more than I ever thought possible.”

The look in his eyes was raw, filled with joy, wonder, and a fierce love that made your heart swell. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally, his lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss, his hand still resting protectively over your stomach.

When he pulled back, he grinned down at you, his expression so soft, so full of love that it nearly took your breath away. “You have given me a family,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I will protect you both. I will give you everything I am, everything I have. I swear it.”

The drums beat on around you, the celebration continuing in the background, but in that moment, the world felt like it held only the two of you, wrapped in a love you hadn’t dared dream of, a love that had grown against all odds.

And as you stood there, feeling the warmth of his hand on your stomach, you knew that whatever came next, you and Rollo would face it together—with joy, with strength, and with a love that was stronger than any doubt, any fear, any past that had once divided you.

16 notes · View notes

theamityelf · 3 months ago

Text

(Snippet from my Audrevie fic, purely because I just remembered some people read fics on Tumblr and not AO3.)

The wedding was Evie's baby, and it was perfect.

She designed Mal's wedding dress, and Ben's suit, obviously, as well as the clothing of all of the groomsmen and bridesmaids and nearly all of the big-name guests. The way she responded when Fairy Godmother innocently suggested a professional designer handle such things inspired jokes about a "Bridesmaidzilla" that didn't die down in all of the months leading up to the ceremony itself.

The decorations and flashy bits were technically handled by Jane and Lumiere, but Evie was the person they consulted in Mal's stead when they had a question about color or material, and shortly enough she graduated to micromanaging flower arrangements and podiums and songbird choirs, predictably causing a ramp-up in the Bridesmaidzilla jokes.

But that was all fine, because on the day of the wedding, she got to stand there in the audience and observe that the ceremony was perfect.

And oh how restless that made her.

Hadie was the ring bearer, to honor Mal's Isle heritage and as an unspoken backhand to the numerous news outlets that had recently started raising questions about whether Mal was really Hades's daughter (and producing uncomfortably compelling evidence for their claims, which had caused Mal to throw her hairbrush at the TV one irate evening). The flower girl was a young daughter of Rapunzel, to honor Ben's Auradon heritage and because King Beast would make a political outreach gesture out of anything. (He had offered the prestigious role to one of Queen Tiana's little girls first, as Maldonia was a good deal more standoffish towards them than Corona was, and had received back a very polite letter saying that Little Eudora had a dentist appointment that she just couldn't miss on the day of the wedding, and also seemingly on the days before and after. The letter did go on to add that Queen Tiana's alligator friend was willing to play at the reception, likely to soften the impact of the refusal.)

From her balcony spot (which she had opted for by choice, because it gave her a good perspective over the festivities and kept her invisible enough that she could run out and fine-tune if she had to), Evie saw the two little heads approach the altar where Fairy Godmother waited with her wand and her sappy, benevolent expression. Hadie's blue hair was pomaded and smoldering rather than upright and aflame, and Sunny's natural dark spikes were curled to frame her cherubic face. The two moved at a stilted pace, because Sunny was young enough to have a sort of doddering gait and Hadie was old enough to be embarrassed by all the attention. But they looked cute, and that was what mattered; cameras flashed, and Evie felt winded, sure that she should be somewhere doing something but unsure of where or what.

The music crescendoed as the children neared the altar. Evie spotted Harry near the front of the crowd below, waving his arms grandly to mock the conductor, and Uma next to him, a vision in turquoise, lightly whacking him with a church fan. She saw Harry duck down to kiss Uma's cheek, and she saw Uma's hand rise to card through his hair, and she looked away, feeling voyeuristic and somehow worried that someone would know she was looking.

She was supposed to be doing something, wasn't she? What was it? What had she missed?

And then the swell of the music peaked, the curtains at the back of the room parted, and Mal emerged on Jay's arm while Ben took to the altar, watching her approach him with open adoration.

Evie watched her approach him, too, because she couldn't look away. Her eyes raked over her dress and his suit and the flower petaled aisle and the ring on Hadie's cushion, trying to spot the flaw.

It wasn't until the distance closed, until Jay was placing Mal's hand in Ben's and whispering something that made them both chuckle, that Evie realized.

Nothing was wrong.

She had planned the perfect wedding.

And now her role in it was over.

It should have been a relief, should have allowed her to sink back in her seat and enjoy the fading strains of music, but instead it felt like acid in her throat.

She had planned the perfect wedding, and it was happening now, and nothing she did would make it any better.

She left the balcony, as invisibly as intended. (She wondered whether a part of her had known that she would need to slip out for this reason instead of any of her made-up reasons. In hindsight, she had never really provided a solid reason for not staying near Carlos or Jay or even the other bridesmaids, had she?) Out in the reception area, Jane was supervising as the last smattering of guests found their way inside; Evie ducked behind a plant to avoid Jane's sweeping gaze and instantly felt quite stupid. She was allowed to be outside; no one had to know why. She spied the nearest bathroom and slipped gracefully into it.

That was where she found Audrey.

The daughter of Aurora was perched prettily on the edge of the bathroom counter, fidgeting with her hair (She had gone back to the fluffy brown curls that so complemented her, and her makeup was dark and sultry and reminiscent of her stint as the Queen of Mean. A striking contrast to the cupcake-sweet swirling mass of pink silk that was her gown. She was more than beautiful; she was absolutely radiant.) and gazing at her own reflection.

"You look lovely," Evie said, and Audrey nearly fell into the sink basin.

#disney descendants #evie grimhilde #princess audrey rose #audrevie #my fanfiction #bal wedding #hadie son of hades

12 notes · View notes

weddingfloristlondon · 7 months ago

Text

Beyond Bouquets: Stunning Flower Decorations for Wedding Tables with The Floral Decor

Your wedding day deserves floral arrangements that leave a lasting impression. While bouquets are beautiful, table decorations with The Floral Decor elevate your reception ambiance to a whole new level.

Imagine tables adorned with cascading centerpieces bursting with vibrant blooms, or delicate floral runners adding a touch of whimsical elegance. The Floral Decor works closely with you to understand your vision, color palette, and style.

Flower decorations for tables at weddings

Here's why The Floral Decor is your perfect partner for flower decorations:

Uniqueness: We design custom arrangements that reflect your personality and wedding theme. From classic and romantic to modern and minimalist, we create centerpieces that are anything but ordinary.

Seasonal Splendor: We utilize the freshest, most stunning blooms in season, ensuring your centerpieces are as breathtakingly beautiful as they are fragrant.

Expert Design: Our passionate floral artists possess a keen eye for detail and a knack for crafting arrangements that are both visually stunning and cohesive with your overall decor.

Stress-Free Planning: We handle everything from sourcing the perfect flowers to meticulous on-site setup, ensuring your wedding day unfolds seamlessly.

Ready to create unforgettable table decorations for your wedding? Contact The Floral Decor today and let's discuss how we can bring your floral vision to life! #flowerdecorationsforweddings #weddingflowers #thefloraldecor

0 notes

sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

Text

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1862

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

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

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

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

4. A Late Morning Wedding

This Chapter: After their vows, Steve takes Bucky's arms gently, fitting first one band of metal and then the other over his wrists and clicking them shut. They’re weighty, just like the ownership they represent.

It’s a late morning wedding.

Bucky’s family hasn’t ever attended services with any regularity, so they convene at Steve’s Catholic church to give their vows.

Bucky is, strangely, not very nervous.. Once he’d gotten dressed that morning and allowed the attendants to pin a flower to his jacket lapel in the church’s side room, he’d kind of stopped thinking. It doesn’t seem real, that he’s about to walk down an aisle and give his life over to a man he hardly knows.

Steve’s beta father pops his head in through the door and gives Bucky a small smile. Bucky tries to give something back, since Mr. Rogers seems like a nice guy, quiet and kind. Bucky nods at him when he asks if he’s ready to go, and takes his arm when he offers it.

Steve’s church is large. The fifty or so guests that’ve come only fill the first few rows of pews. Bucky stiffens his spine and steadfastly avoids meeting anyone’s gaze. He especially doesn’t look at his mother. Not because of spite, but rather because he’s not sure what he’d do if he saw her face right now. Probably cry.

Reaching Steve at the altar, Bucky is reminded that Steve is a good few inches taller than him. He’s handsome in his suit, Bucky can’t help but think. He’s a very attractive man, and if this were under different circumstances, Bucky might be pining over him.

Only, it’s their wedding, which isn’t something Bucky had planned for himself. Not at this stage in his life. He gulps and takes Steve’s hand when he offers it, listening to the priest’s words as he starts speaking.

Steve seems … not tense, per se, but stiff somehow. His eyes keep flicking over to Bucky every so often, and soon enough Bucky realizes that Steve’s trying to make sure he’s doing alright, without being obvious about it. Bucky stiffens his jaw, trying to appear as collected as Steve does. He doesn’t want the alpha to think he’s some stupid kid who can’t handle this. Bucky doesn’t need his sympathy.

When it’s time for them to say their vows, the priest has them turn to face each other. Steve holds both of Bucky’s hands and recites, “I, Steven Grant Rogers, do take you, James Buchanan Barnes, to be my husband and Beta. I promise to honor and protect you, to guide our household and care for our family. Going forward, I accept the responsibility of Headship to our union. I promise to share my life with you and, god-willing, the third to our marriage.”

Bucky gulps, his palms feeling sweaty where they rest in Steve’s. He repeats the vows that the priest lays out for him, glad that it’s done sentence by sentence, because he honestly doesn’t think he could manage to remember it all at once. “I, James Buchanan Barnes, do take you, Steven Grant Rogers, to be my husband and Alpha. I promise to honor and obey you, to nourish our household and care for our family. Going forward …” Bucky’s throat feels tight. He has to take a breath before he can make himself utter the last words. “Going forward, I accept your authority as Headship to our union. I promise to share my life with you and, god willing, the third to our marriage.”

It feels like a huge weight is lifted from on top of his lungs, once the words are said. Air rushes back in, but it’s not a relief, it just means he can breathe again. Bucky blinks at Steve, taking in the way he looks satisfied, if not altogether joyous. The priest is talking, droning on about the sanctity of marriage and other things. He ushers the altar boy forward with the ring and wristbands. Bucky watches with a sense of disbelief as Steve takes his arms gently, fitting first one band of metal and then the other over his wrists and clicking them shut. They fit, at least. They’re about the only thing in this situation that does. Then Bucky gets nudged by the altar boy, who’s looking at him impatiently, Steve’s ring held out. “Oh.” Bucky takes it, turning back to Steve. He’s looking at Bucky patiently, waiting for him to slide it onto his finger. Bucky takes a deep breath and does so.

Steve smiles kindly at him, once it’s done, and he squeezes their hands together. The priest starts saying things in Latin and moving his hands around, and then he’s pronouncing Bucky and Steve as husbands, saying they’re married and that Steve can kiss him. Bucky freezes on the spot, not having thought ahead to this part. Steve comes in and holds Bucky at the waist, one hand curling behind his neck as he dips in, kissing him before Bucky can freak out any further. He’s gentle about it, his mouth warm but brief on Bucky’s own. Bucky doesn’t have time to decide if he likes it or not before Steve is pulling back and everyone in the pews is standing up and clapping. Organ music that’s too grand for just their little gathering starts up, and Steve takes Bucky’s hand to guide him back down the aisle.

They’re married.

Mercifully, nobody tries to throw a grand reception to celebrate. Bucky thinks he would explode if he had to sit in a room full of people congratulating him on his blessed marriage for three hours straight.

Instead, Steve’s fathers have Winnie and Bucky’s sisters over for dinner and drinks, a few close friends of each of their families attending as well. House Romanov is there, so Bucky gets to see Natasha, and House Wilson attends as well. Senator Wilson’s son, Sam, is apparently Steve’s best friend.

Bucky watches the two of them talking on the other side of the ornate drawing room. Every once in a while, either Steve or Sam’s eyes will flit over to him as they talk, which is what lets Bucky know they’re most definitely talking about him.

He tries to ignore Steve in favor of eyeing all the grand frescoes that decorate the ceiling, and the old fabric wallpaper that lines the high walls. Both of their families are High Society, but House Rogers is clearly wealthier than House Barnes. The mansion they’re in makes that plain enough. Steve had grown up here, Bucky thinks absentmindedly. Strange, since he in no way acts pretentious. Even his parents don’t.

Bucky’s sitting on one of the parlor’s silk couches, Natasha at his side. “God, James,” she scolds. “I would’ve thought he was hideous, from the way you were complaining. Look at him! He’s textbook.”

Bucky grunts, sipping some of his wine. It’s his third glass and he has no concrete plans of stopping. Already, he can feel his body buzzing, a little numb but a little giddy too. He’s at least relaxed enough that he can sit with Natasha and stare at his new husband across the room without being constantly flustered. “Yeah,” he agrees. “He’s handsome.”

“He’s one of the youngest in the senate right now,” Natasha tells him. “I've heard good things."

"What things?"

Bucky's thinking of his character, but Natasha starts listing off several bills that the alpha has apparently co-sponsored. "—and pushing for all sorts of reforms.”

Bucky shrugs. He’s never paid too much attention to politics. A good thing, too, since he won’t inherit his father’s seat now, anyhow. Years of study would’ve been a waste of time. “That’s great Natasha,” he says, making his lack of interest clear. “I just need to get drunk enough to go to bed with him tonight.”

Natasha gives him a look. “You don’t always have the best ideas,” she says.

“Hmph.” Bucky sips more wine. “Sure.” His eyes flick over to where his mother is chatting with Steve’s fathers:

“Oh no,” she’s saying with a sigh. “We never did find our omega, I’m afraid. It’s always been just the two of us. But it’s been a happy household. Well ... until recently.” She looks away, embarrassed. “Obviously.” The Rogers start trying to console her about the obvious ruin of her house.

Bucky only endures about two minutes of listening to that before he stands from the couch and excuses himself from Natasha’s company. He finds his way into the kitchen, where a few servants are arranging things on platters, ostensibly to bring out and serve to the guests. They look alarmed at seeing Bucky in their domain and ask him if he needs anything. “No,” he says, walking towards the counter and pouring himself some more wine from an opened bottle. The wine comes out white, mixing with the red that’s already in his glass. Bucky huffs at the mistake but doesn’t stop pouring until he’s got the glass mostly full. He nods at the staring servants and makes his way out of the kitchen and into the hall. Everyone’s still convened in the parlor, but Bucky really doesn’t want to go back in there. He sips his drink, considering if he might snoop around Steve’s parents' house. His eyes roam the fancy ceiling, which in that part of the hallway is a rich, carved mahogany.

“Bucky.”

He startles, attention shooting from the ceiling down to Steve, who’s appeared in the hall. He’s holding his hand out for Buck. “Come on,” he says. “Our parents want to make a toast before we retire.”

Bucky’s lips part. “Retire?” he repeats dumbly.

Steve’s eyes soften and he nods, coming forward to draw him along. “Yeah, come on. How many of these have you had?” His fingers approach Bucky’s wine glass and Bucky yanks it out of reach.

“Not that many,” he says, grumpy. “I’m allowed.”

Steve seems to consider him for a long moment, but then he nods and doesn’t press the issue any farther. He moves Bucky along into the parlor. “Yes, you are. None after this, though,” he says, putting some of the command of an alpha’s Voice behind it.

Bucky stiffens, never having been on the receiving end of Steve’s Voice. “No?” he asks, desperately wanting to do something to prove that he can have as much wine as he wants, that Steve isn’t the boss of him. But the dark metal bands around his wrists are evidence against that. They’re hidden by his shirt sleeves, but Bucky is well-aware of them against his skin. They’re weighty, just like the ownership they represent. “Maybe I’ll still have another glass, though,” Bucky mumbles mutinously, just loud enough for Steve to hear.

Steve steers them back into the parlor without taking the bait, and then he announces that the evening is finally coming to a close and he and his new husband must retire. One of Bucky’s sisters starts giggling madly and Bucky sees his mother glare at her, and then both of Steve’s parents are making a toast, wishing them happiness, good luck, and lots of children.

Bucky blushes mightily at that, feeling like it’s awful presumptive that they’ll find their omega anytime soon, or that they’ll start having babies with him (or her) right away. Bucky still feels like a kid, himself. He manages to meet both of his in-laws' eyes as Steve bids them good night. “Thank you,” Bucky mumbles. He accepts hugs from them and from his mother, and then Steve guides him out of the room and they both go upstairs.

Series masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood pervert smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

40 notes · View notes