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harrysmimi · 1 month ago

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Finally Your Husband

Synopsis: YN and Harry tie the knots together in an intimate and private ceremony in Italy and they get to hear an amazing news.

Series Master list | More of My Work

YN was nervous.

She was on brink of having a breakdown. Everything was turning out to be so perfect yet everyone was giving her a big hard time.

The way her grandma wasn't attending was a cherry on top for her but her parents were attending. The way it was the people who loved and respected her boundaries and parents giving her a hard time taunting her every little choice. A few of her cousins were attending too, and most of them YN hated. It was just amazing and hell on earth at the same time. They were Harry's Italian villa where he proposed to her.

One of her cousin got drunk and almost tore his scrotum while dancing during one of the pre-wedding ceremonies. Niall was a real helper driving him to the nearest hospital. And two of her other cousins threw a fit of fight when they found out they were wearing the same outfit.

The pre wedding ceremonies were lowkey too. It was a whole week long spiel and a half.

"I don't know why I am nervous!" She whined on the phone with her soon to be husband, her eye welled up with tears. She was all ready and they were just fifteen minutes away from being married.

There was going to be two ceremonies back to back and long night of partying.

"Baby." Harry cooed, "just fifteen minutes okay?"

While he tried his best to assure her everything is going to be fine, it wasn't putting her at ease. Her life was about to change for good.

Just a few years ago she wasn't even interested in seeing anyone (she in fact hated the idea) and now here she is about to marry the love of her life. Everything between fear and pure ecstasy was just running in rounds in her head.

Harry was just two stories down from where she was but she couldn't go see him. YN was having a breakdown. She was nervous thinking what possibly could go wrong as everything has been so smooth sailing.

On the other hand, Harry was nervous indeed but he could manage himself. He had just gotten into his suit as he was done with his hair.

He got a call from Brielle, stating he need to go see his wife (soon-to-be) now. She was having a breakdown. He had quickly put on his coat and headed to where his wife-to-be was.

"Oh my god!" He whispered to himself as he saw her sitting there on the edge of the bed all ready and dolled up, she took his breath away. Even though she was crying. "Angel, you look breath taking!"

She was wearing a white lehenga, and covered in gorgeous jwellery, a soft makeup look with a bold lip.

And that made her son too. "I broke this." She showed him the chain he got her for one of her birthdays and she wanted to wear it as it was so special. It wasn't going to be visible with all the jewelry she was wearing, but still she'd know she is wearing it.

"Hey, it's alright my love." He cooed as he sat next to her. "It's alright. We can get that fixed."

"I wanted to wear it." She managed to whisper between her sobs. "You gave it to me on my birthday."

"I know, but-" he was cut off when YN's brother's wife, Jasmine came in with a sewing box.

"I knew this was going to be handy- oh Harry?" She was quite surprised. "I am sorry, I should have knocked but she is crying."

"No, it's fine." Harry assured her.

"Look we are going to fix it okay for now?" She took YN's necklace. Soon after her mother walked in as well. She helped Jasmine fix the necklace. They just tied the broken ends with a piece of things thread. It wasn't a permanent solution but it was going to work for now. "Come here let me put this on." Jasmine even put it on for her and even attempted to fix her makeup too.

Harry watched the way her mum looked at her. They both looked exactly the same he figured. He just wished she would have spoken with her then, he could tell she wanted to. She had tears in her eyes seeing her daughter as a bride. It just broke his heart a little.

"I will come and get you in a while. And Harry you probably have to be there in a few minutes too." Jasmine informed both, soon her and YN's mum left.

"Hey, you good?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I am sorry." She mumbled, "I think I'm about to get my period. I don't know why I am crying so much."

"Don't say that." He pulled her in for a hug, "you don't have to say that. It's a big day, and it's okay to feel this way."

"This is so overwhelming." She mumbled against his chest.

"I know, but it'll be alright. I'm right here with you, yeah?"

It had just been five minutes Harry had to go out as the ceremony would begin. First it was the traditional Indian way. And then it was Niall officiating their wedding. Everything went as smoothly as possible. Soon YN realised she was panicking for nothing everything was just perfect.

They both cried twice as she walked down the aisle twice.

"You may kiss your bride, Harold." Niall announced as he stepped away.

Harry was quick to pull his wife in as he picked her lips gently before he got her in a bear hug. YN wrapped her arms around him

Her husband has been by her side for the entire day. It was time for their first dance.

"I can't believe we are married now." She said they both swayed to the soft music playing.

Harry leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Mhmm. I am finally your husband."

"Yeah? I am your wife now." She couldn't help but smile sheepishly at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He got flustered seeing her watch him with love heart eyes.

"Can you kiss me?" She asked.

"You know I will." With that he pressed his lips on hers, not shying away that her parents and brother are present there like they used to. She's his woman now and he is her man. "I love you so much!"

"I love you so much!" She reciprocated.

The rest of the night was flawless. Niall and Zayn got drunk off their arse as they danced to Gasolina for the fifth time. The food was amazing.

"You're not going to have anything to drink?" YN asked her husband.

"No, I am done. Had a glass of wine." He shared as he pulled her closer to his side as he watched his former band mates dance like idiots. "Want to stay present." He pressed a kiss on her head.

"Awh!" She cooed.

"Come on guys!" Gemma pulled them both to the dance floor, she was halfway hammered too there. They had a very fun night.

Harry was still on the dance floor as YN retrieved back feeling tired as her adrenaline started to wear off slowly but surely. Her husband wasn't drunk but he was having fun like his friends if not more.

Soon people started leaving to go back to their accommodations and it was just the close family left there to clean up a bit before everyone headed back. As it was Harry's (now theirs) villa all the bride and groom had to do was walking up the stairs to their bedroom.

It was all decorated with pretty candles and flowers. "Oh see the mood is already set for us." Harry announced as he hugged his wife from behind. "To be honest, this wasn't needed I had my eye on you since this morning." He had been worked up all night, actually all day. She looked absolutely dead drop gorgeous in that dress and she is wife now. That all together new feeling.

YN was quick to turn around in his arms. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm." He nodded and pecked her lips gently.

"This is going to be a big hassle to get out of." She reminded him that she is wearing a Lehenga with hundreds if not thousands of pins holding it together.

"Don't worry we have all the time in the world." He assured her as his hand went up her back behind her Chunni as he tugged onto the string of her blouse.

On a serious note, he did help her get out of the heavy outfit. They had a great laugh as it kept tugging on one thing or another. YN finally got out of the lehenga. He was also just in his trousers by now.

"You were wearing sweat pants underneath that the white day?" Harry giggled.

"Yes! And I was still cold." She pouted as she took off her bangles as she was sat on the bathroom counter.

"Awh, my baby!" He cooed, "let's hand this up, yeah?" He nicely hung up the fit on the designated hanger carefully and hung it over the bathroom door. "Now where were we." He went back to her, stepping between her legs.

"Where were we?" She placed the last of the bangles she took off in their designated box as she looked up at him.

"I'd rather show you." With his arms wrapped around her waist he picked her back and walked back to their bed. She laughed feeling his fingers dig into her side tickling her. He gently placed her on the bed as hovered over her pressing his mouth to hers. His hands wandered on her back to unhook her blouse she still had on. "This okay?"

"Yes." She nodded, her hands on his hips as he helped her out of the blouse that's when she noticed the bulge. She was quick to unbuckle his belt and get rid of his pants.

"No let me do the work now." He stopped her, reaching down to the waist band of her sweats and sliding them down with her panties. He got down on his knees as his lips left a trail of soft and eager kisses down her neck to her stomach to her inner thighs. YN let out a soft moan as she felt his mouth on her, his tongue teasing her bud.

Soon enough she was pulling him back to her, he was quick to press his mouth on hers. Her juices are still on his mouth as he pushes his tongue in her mouth, flawlessly dominating over their very heated moment.

"I want your cock in me now." She demanded, propping herself up on her elbows.

He chuckled softly as he undid his trousers and took off his boxers. "Very demanding, aren't we?" He was back on top of her. He lines his tip against her weeping hole as he pushes inside her with ease. "Can never get over the feeling of your pussy on my cock, baby!" He groans softly with his forehead on hers.

YN just let out a soft moan holding onto his shoulders. "Want it to be soft this time." She whispered.

"Mhmmm." He agrees moaning as he could feel her walls pulsing around him.

"Fuck! Right there!" She gasped feeling his cock plunging in her softly yet firmly.

"Yeah, you like it baby?" He looked at her before pecking her lips, earning a nod of satisfaction from her. "That's it baby, lay back and relax. Gonna take care of my wife!"

YN laid back on bed. Harry was quick enough to grab the pillow for her before she rested her head back, not forgetting to keep on with his slow and firm thrusts. Dipping his head down he latched his mouth on her hardened nipple, whilst his hand was busy kneading the other making her back arch.

"Oh yes!" She moaned softly again, gasping for air as she floated away in pleasure.

"Oh yes baby, you gonna cum?" He looked at her again.

"Yeah. I want you to cum in me." She requested. This isn't the first time.

"Yeah? You want me to cum in you baby?" He said getting his hand down to rub her clit making her jolt in surprise.

"Yes please!" She sighed.

"Yeah, almost there baby, urgh!" He thrusts were getting harder and harder as he couldn't hold it back, feeling her pulsing harder around him. Soon he was releasing his load in her pussy with the last few thrusts. "Fuck that was amazing!" He chuckled, still inside her.

"Yeah." She pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you so much Harry!"

"I love you so much!" He kissed again. Rolling over he pulled her in closer. "We are finally married."

"Mhmm." She nodded, looking at him with tired yet love-heart eyes. "We're married now, I can't wait to grow old with you!"

"Yeah? I promise I will love you even after we're seventy." He mumbled softly against her forehead before pressing another kiss on her skin. It was a joke as they danced to Thinking Out Loud by Ed, making her giggling.

"Oh you better!" She warned him.

"You know I will, baby!" He pushes back to look at her, "do you want to get cleaned up and go to sleep?"

"Mhmm." She nodded.

Harry was quick enough to help her get cleaned and helped her get into one of his t-shirts before they were off to bed.

.......................................................................

Harry woke up feeling super hot for some reason, he back was all sweaty as YN slept closer to him, her face buried in his back.

"Baby?" Harry carefully turned around and moved closer to her wife who was still asleep but shivering and burning up. That was enough to get him out of sleep in an instance. "Baby, you alright?"

"Hmmm?" She sounded.

"You're burning up my love." He whispered.

"Yeah I am cold. I just want to sleep." She mumbled. The worst thing about her was how she managed to sleep through fever.

"Let's go see a doctor first, yeah?" He suggested, "you can sleep when we get back."

"Can we go later?" She mumbled again, pulling the blanket over her mouth and curling up even more.

"Babe, come on now. You're burning up." He insisted, "I promise we'll make it as quick as possible, yeah?"

"I- fine we'll-." She ran off to the toilet and started throwing up.

"Oh no." Harry mumbled as he rushed to her and held her hair back and rubbed her back. "It's alright sweetheart. We'll go see a doctor."

Harry was quick to drive her to the nearest hospital, they were asked to wait luckily there was no rush there and they got in without an appointment. The doctor did a basic physical exam.

"Have you eaten anything recently which might upset your stomach?" The doctor asked as he documented in his computer.

"No, I have been eating healthy for our wedding." YN explained.

"Oh congratulations!" The doctor smiled, "don't worry we'll look into it. Have you tried taking a pregnancy test?"

"Not recently." YN shrugged, suddenly feeling anxious as she looked at her husband. "But I'd be open to one if we can do it here."

"Sure." The doctor nodded. "We'll also get the blood work done if necessary too."

"Yeah. Thank you." YN nodded.

Soon enough a nurse guided the couple to a room where YN can take the pregnancy test in privacy. She was nervous and she was already crying.

"It's okay baby." Harry tried his best to calm her down as they waited for the longest five minutes. "What does it say?"

"It's positive." She started sobbing.

"Oh my god!" He was quick to pull her in the tightest hug ever.

"We're going to be Mummy and Papa!" She mumbled as she sobbed.

"Yeah!" Harry rocked her side to side in excitement.

That was the happiest moment of YN's life there but she was still burning up with fever. Doctor gave her some mild medicines to take and advised her to rest as much as she can.

That's exactly what Harry made her do. He drove her back home to their Villa. Made her feel all comfy as he fixed her a quick meal.

They postponed their honeymoon until YN feels better and is fit to travel and spend their time in and resting and taking in the news.

......................................................................

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russellsppttemplates · 11 months ago

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helloooo! i have an idea for an imagine

what if charles & y/n where childhood friends and they always pretended to be married as kids (yk those games 😭😂) and then in the future they DO get married and one of their family members brings it up at the wedding and it's very funny but cute!

cw: mentions Charles' father

"We actually have a surprise for you", you mother said as she and Pascale looked at eachother before the guy in charge of the projector on the wall started playing a video. It was old, slightly grainy and you were not sure of what it was until it showed you and Charles.

"Why do we have to film it again, Y/N?", you heard your mother's voice as she focused the camera on you. You were wearing a pink dress and had some flowers on your hand, "Because me and Charles need to have this recorded for when we are older!", you smiled, "and what are you doing?", Charles' father's voice was heard, "we're getting married! Because Pascale and Hervé love eachother and they got married, mama and papa got married because they love eachother, so we are getting married, too!", you beamed.

Charles stood in the middle of the living room, Lorenzo taking the spot on his side as you walked closer to Charles. While Lorenzo was older than both of you, he went along, saying something about true love and how you were meant to be together. "Charles, do you have any vows?", he asked. "What are vows?", he asked, "it's like a promise you make to Y/N", he whispered back.

"Y/N", he began said confidently, "I promise to always love you, to show you all the beautiful things in life and to never leave you. Oh, and also to always share my food with you", he smiled.

"Charles", you followed, "I want you to know that you're the boy I love mostest in the world, and I'll always be by your side no matter what", you smiled, holding your hands in his.

"You can now kiss the bride!", Lorenzo announced as a shy six year old Charles kissed your cheeky sweetly before you hugged him, both of you smiling to the camera, "we're married!", Charles yelled, "Oh, we need to tell Pierre!", you chirped in.

"Oh my goodness!", Charles laughed while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes, joining your guests as they commented how sweet it all was.

"I love how, as soon as we got married, you just wanted to tell Pierre", Francisca pointed out, napkin in her hand as she carefully wiped around your eyes, not wanting to ruin her makeup, "he was Charles' best friend and he wasn't there, I think I was being very considerate of him, actually", you stated, "and I was still a little bit jealous that Charles had another best friend at this age, probably just wanted to flash him that I loved Charles the mostest".

"Well, they were good promises, and I intend to keep those, too", Charles said, holding your hand in his once again, kissing your knuckles.

"We don't have it in recording, but Charles made my late husband, who I know would love to be here and knew this day would happen, get them a chocolate cake so they could have a honeymoon! Don't worry, it was an age appropriate trip to the slides at the park!", Pascale chuckled. Pierre saw an opportunity and he took it, "hopefully your honeymoon this time around also has very exciting slides and other fun things!", he toasted, sipping from his drink as you hid your blushed face in your husband's neck.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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asapeveryday · 4 months ago

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NEVER THE BRIDE

Oikawa Toru x Reader

Your best friend is getting married and it’s starting to seem like you’ll never get to have that experience. The grooms best man serves as a reminder…or perhaps a change.

INHALE, EXHALE. You’re starting to feel a normal beat, a comfortable rhythm in your breathing as you coax these two words to yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your tears have mostly dried, your makeup has been touched up, your eyes are only slightly red-rimmed.

Inhale, exhale. You haven’t cried this erratically since your high school boyfriend broke up with you. The idea seems so small and irrelevant now compared to all the adult troubles you’ve experienced so far.

Inhale, exhale. Today is the best day of your best friends life thus far. She is legally entwined with a man she’s in love with, she’s going to spend the rest of her days next to him, working through every obstacle and celebrating every achievement. She’s not just your friend anymore, she’s someone’s wife, and soon enough she’ll be someone’s mother.

Inhale, exhale. You feel your stomach lurch as you exit the washroom and spot him at your table, laughing, joking, celebrating the love his own friend Hajime has found in your best friend. You can feel a billion memories stampede any prior attempts to stay collected.

Being next to the bride just hours earlier at the ceremony was colourful and exciting. Being her maid of honour cemented the depth of your friendship even more, even though you had been fighting this nagging feeling that she was leaving you behind. You could stay positive, all you had to do was avoid his gaze as he stood across from you, beside the groom.

When the vows were being read it became apparent just how much he was staring at you, as if begging, no, challenging you to look at his face.

To have and to hold from this day forward.

He clenched his jaw ever so slightly when your eyes flitted to his.

For better, for worse,

You held his gaze despite the growing, gnawing feeling of yearning inside of you at the memory of watching him outgrow your love.

for richer, for poorer,

He shifted on his feet, undoubtedly remembering the many arguments money once caused you two.

in sickness and in health,

The sight of his pale skin accumulating an embarrassed blush that you often saw when he would catch a cold after training outside for too long flashed through your mind.

to love and to cherish,

He practically winced at these words spoken. His face was tense, uncomfortable, but un breaking under your stare. Had he cherished you?

till death do us part.

Words you had wished you’d been able to utter, staring him in the face like you were then…only under different circumstances.

Snapping back to reality, you shake off the residual sadness as best as you can before returning to your table where your problem resides.

“Having fun?” He says, turning to look at you as you sit down.

“Plenty.” You respond curtly. “I’ve been rooting for my girl and Hajime since day one.”

“So have I.” He responds, though the far-away look in his eyes makes you shiver. He’s analyzing you in this awful way, searching for any hidden feelings. You used to hate it when you were together.

“Quit staring at me, Oikawa.” You mutter, and he’s taken aback for a moment.

“Oikawa?” He says, eyebrows furrowed. “Toru. Please, call me Toru.”

“You stopped being Toru a while ago.” You scoff, turning your head. He doesn’t say anything. Even when the table slowly empties into the dance floor and there’s nobody else to distract from the tension, neither of you say anything at all.

You find yourself looking at the mass of people, couples and friends spinning and dancing, laughing and crying tears of joy. You’ve witnessed the same scene over and over again throughout the past year, and you’ve become more and more ashamed with each wedding you’ve attended. Not too long ago you had thought one of these weddings would be yours.

“Does it still bother you?”

You jerk your head towards the voice. “What?”

“Er, does it still hurt you. The weddings.” Oikawa says quietly. You remember now that he was aware, that you had told him about how left behind you felt. You also remember thinking he might be the one to resolve your problem.

“What do you think?” You finally say, turning your body towards him. “Everyone is settling down and I’m alone. All of those weddings this past year, alone? Yeah, it still hurts.”

“You weren’t alone for all of those weddings.” He says, almost too quickly, though you can tell he regrets it. You can feel anger bubbling inside of you regardless. Oikawa had been your plus one almost every time.

“I might as well have been.” You snap. “Or else I would’ve been tied down by now.”

A beat passes. You’re looking down, playing with the plastic table coverings. You know he’s looking straight at you.

“I’m sorry.” He says, soft and considerate. A tone that once soothed you.

“Don’t be.” You say. “You chose your career and it worked. Plus, we would’ve never made it through that, not with your travelling to all these foreign countries, with foreign women and…” you trail off, feeling embarrassed. He wasn’t able to give you what you wanted: stability. It wasn’t in his schedule. He needed to take risks to ensure his place in the world was set, not as your husband, but as an athlete.

“You’re not the only one who’s hurt by weddings.” Oikawa says. You just look up, hoping he elaborates.

“Me n’ Iwa used to always say we’d have a double wedding.” He chuckles, though it’s slightly hollow. “I remember thinking it wouldn’t work out. He always said I’d probably beat him to it, me being a bit of a ladies man in school and all.” He mumbles the last bit under his breath.

“It’s, uhm. It’s just embarrassing. Looking back at how I just assumed love would come so easily to me. And here I am at his wedding. He found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with before I even managed to establish my career. He found someone he loves.” He finishes.

“And you?” You ask just above a whisper. Oikawa sucks in a breath before meeting your eyes.

“I did too. But I threw it away.”

You hold your breath as you look at him, face warming and body honing a shell shocked buzz. You hold the brunette boys gaze for what seems like ages before one of the bridesmaids comes to your table.

She tells you and Oikawa that the best friends of the bride and groom should be on the dance floor, pulling you and him with each hand and patting you on the back when you glare at her. You awkwardly walk behind him, weaving between masses of white clothed tables to reach the space in the middle of the venue, it’s packed with people and concentrated with upbeat music.

The party music fades to a more somber tune as you and Oikawa enter the crowd. The bride and groom have already had the first dance, so this dance is obviously meant for any other couples. You watch as children and singles filter out, though many friends stay back for the fun of it. You glance around search for someone else to be with during the song when Oikawa turns around to face you.

His hand is held out to yours in an invitation that makes your heart both swell and ache. You stare at his calloused palms and extended fingers in a moment of contemplation, but when he utters a quiet “please” You finally slip your hand in his.

One hand gingerly finds the small of your waist while the other holds your own. His thumb grazes soothing strokes on the skin of your hand and you can feel him looking at your face with such intensity, likes he’s memorizing your features.

You haven’t been this close to Oikawa in ages, you haven’t been handled so softly in just as long. You forgot about the stray sunspots on his face, about the way his ears grow pink when flustered, about how he takes you in so completely. Dancing with him is reminding you of so many beautiful things you’ve forgotten.

“I want you back.” He says.

“If your best friend wasn’t getting married before you would you have still wanted me back?” You quip.

“Forget about Iwa. I wanted you back the minute it ended.”

You glare at him as the two of you slowly spin through the floor. His expression is serious, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tight-lipped.

“I don’t know if I can take another disappointment.” You say. “Not from you, not from anybody.”

You inhale, you exhale. Surprisingly he does too. Your palm is starting to sweat, though he doesn’t pull away. Your breathing is in sync with his.

“I missed you, Toru.” You sigh. Your voice wavers at the confession, but his eyes sparkle at the use of his given name, at the reciprocation of his feelings.

“I’ve wanted to hear that for so long.” He smiles with relief.

“And I’ve wanted to wear white. And be with someone who’ll be mine for the rest of my life.” You respond, frowning. “I don’t know if you can manage that.”

He thinks for a moment, eyes trained on yours still as if it would kill him to look away. He smells like the apartment you two once shared, like the past and something more new and mature.

“Back then I probably couldn’t.” He admits, a small and ashamed smile pulling at his lips. “But I know I can now.”

Inhale, exhale. The song is ending soon, and you’ll be back to your table. You can say no and never be this close to him again, or you can say yes and fight for a chance to be more than a bridesmaid someday.

“I’ll need time.” You finally decide. “And commitment for real this time.”

The music fades and couples begin to part ways. Toru’s hand leaves your waist but his other stays entwined with yours. “All yours.” He says, and you can feel that he means it.

#fanfiction #fanfic #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa torū #toru oikawa #oikawa toru x reader

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rebelliousstories · 7 months ago

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Speak Now

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1,250

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: On what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she cannot help but feel Norm is hiding something.

“Oh, I just love a wedding. Well we haven’t had one in a while but still.” Lucy gushed as she helped get her friend ready for her special day. Her hair was being pulled every which direction, while Stephanie tidied up her nails.

“How are you feeling?” The blonde at her hands asked, looking up briefly. The woman in the chair took a deep breath, and blew it out hard while she thought.

“Okay. Nervous, I guess.” She stated. Stephanie, having just gotten married recently, was still in her honeymoon phase and reminiscing.

“I get what you’re feeling. But once you see him in front of you, you’ll know. That’s the one. Like Bert,” her eyes held little clouds in them, “I just knew he was the one for me when we were set up.” Lucy looked towards her friend like she was eagerly taking in the story, but the same could not be said for the woman in the chair.

“I don’t know. Just… the idea though. Of marrying a complete stranger that I’ll meet at the vault exchange. It doesn’t feel right.” She lamented, expressing her concern with the practice.

“You’ll change really quick when you see him. Why I just knew that Bert was going to be the best man for me the second I saw him.” Stephanie said softly once more. They quieted their chatter as the two women began to work on the bride-to-be’s makeup. All the while, she sat there, running through every possibility.

Nothing her mind came up with helped her current predicament. A figure passed by the window into her room, that stopped just for a second to long. It was Norm. Her neighbor and life-long friend, even if he was a bit peculiar. Their eyes locked and she swore that she could see an upset look in his eyes. That was, until, it was broken off by Lucy standing in front of the bride to apply her lipstick.

She had no idea why Norm would be upset over her getting married, even to a stranger. They were just friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. Although, she had tried to get him to notice her. Taking up a new hobby to show him, only to be met with a disinterested stare while she spoke about it. Styling her hair a different way just to have him ask if she was feeling alright. Trying to find out his hobbies and having him wonder what she was doing there.

But to no avail. There was nothing to suggest that he thought about her in any other fashion than that of a friend. And even that was a maybe, if he even considered her one. She sure considered him a friend of hers. By the time she could see through the window again, Norm was gone. Her heart hurt a little bit. She should be happy. Not pinning after her friend. How could she be happy though? She was not excited to be marrying a stranger from Vault 32. That was not what she wanted. But she had to. For the good of society.

As the two women finished up their beautification of the bride in the chair, she was presented with a mirror. She had to admit; they did an amazing job. Presented with a white dress, she took the offered pen and hesitantly signed her name with the date on the inside panel. Getting dressed, her heart was speeding up considerably. Her nerves were getting the better of her. The walk down to Vault 32 was terrifying. Faces passed and all she wanted to do was scream and run. Her mother and father greeted her as she made it to the spot in front of the door to Vault 32.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Her mother asked, voice airy and sweet.

“Fine.” She replied. Her voice was cut short as a lump formed in her throat. The vault door seemed larger and more daunting now as they stood in front of it. A crowd of people came around the door to watch the exchange happen. Amongst those people, she scanned for one person, who stood at the back of the room. Norm was there. It made her feel better to have him there, but not as good as she should have been.

Hank MacLean came up to her and held her hand while pulling her towards the door. Even she could feel the sweat beading up on her, and her heart beating out of her chest. Before the door could be open though, a voice shouted above the commotion.

“Wait!” Norm pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What are you doing, son?” Hank whispered, about to scold him.

“She can’t get married to someone else.” He stated, looking towards the woman in a wedding dress, standing before the vault door.

“What are you talking about, Norm?” His father, once again, tried to keep a lid on the situation.

“Because I won’t allow you to marry her off. We can trade something else, but I will not have her marrying anyone else. There’s no direct bloodline between us, which means that our children won’t be directly related to anyone except our direct relatives in this community.” He finished his speech, and finally took another breath. Norm looked at his father, his friend, and back to his father. She looked relieved, and a little scared.

“You wish to marry her? Right now?” Hank pressed, waiting to see how this is going to play out.

“Yes. I’ll do it right now.” Norm stood up straighter, looking usually sure of himself as he faced the situation with conviction.

“Alright then. We’ll inform Overseer Jackson we no longer need a match. We’ll find something else of value to trade. I’ll go inform him.” Hank let go of her hand and waked out with his council. Her parents walked out as well, still confused as to what was happening. Soon, it was just the two kids who were looking down at their shoes.

“So… what was that all about?” She questioned, peeking her head out from her lashes.

“I just didn’t want you marrying someone who you didn’t know. I figured you would be more comfortable with someone you know.” Norm murmured.

“Is that all?” Once again, she pressed her friend for answers.

“Well-” he started, “maybe. Not really. I just, just…”

“Norm?” A call made his head peak up. She stepped closer and closer until they were toe to toe, and chest to chest.

“Yes? You are very close to me.” That was the last thing he was able to say until her lips pressed softly against his own. They stood there, finding their place in the moment. Unfortunately, the need for air came about which led for the pair to draw away from the other.

“I think we’re supposed to do that at the alter.” Norm whispered, which sent her into a fit of giggles. He giggled along with her and moved to hold her hand. She grasped his hand tightly and felt the sweat disappear from her palms. Norm felt a surge of confidence as he looked her in the eyes once more.

“Shall we go get married now?” He suggested, looking back into their own vault.

“Let’s go get married.” She agreed, beginning to drag him along with her. Norm followed willingly, and even ended up dragging her a little bit in his excitement to finally have the girl.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #norm maclean #norm maclean x reader #norman maclean #Norman Maclean imagine #Norman Maclean x reader #norm Maclean x oc #norman Maclean x oc #norm maclean imagine

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onedeadkitty · 6 months ago

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Mizus Gender

He/him they/them she/her pronouns for Mizu

I know the writers of the show wrote blue eye samurai with Mizu as a woman disguised as a man in a way similar ish to Mulan but uh

They accidentally made it deeper than that ??

If you removed like 2 lines of dialogue in episode 5 you could even make an argument for trans masc Mizu. Or at the least gender queer.

Being transgender is not a concept in this time period. But trust. People have always wanted to be other genders, probably for the entirety of human history. And how someone would go about being trans in a world with no true understanding of the concept, might be similar to what Mizu IS DOING RIGHT NOW.

Living as a man. PERMANENTLY. Not temporarily to achieve some near goal like Mulan and the many other stories with this concept. Mizu has lived as a man nearly their entire life and no intention to ever live as a woman in the future.

Mizu admires their freshly binded chest in the mirror as a teen.

When alone Mizu refers to himself as a man.

When alone with Ringo, (someone who knows the secret) Ringo also refers to Mizu as a man.

Mizu threatens to straight kill Ringo at the the very use of the word “girl”.

When, and ONLY when seeing 2 MEN kiss does he think of Taigen.

Not to mention madame Kajis indelicate insinuation of gay sex to Mizu, something I believe wasn’t for no reason. OR Madams iconic line “you are more man than ANY come through my door” (I’m convinced she has an idea of Mizus true sex but doesn’t care to accuse or call them out for it)

They HAD lived as a woman in the past. Only for about a year, and they did it to get married for her mothers sake. To save her from a life of prostitution. She was able to be happy, because it IS POSSIBLE to be happy while not presenting how you like. It’s a strain and some can never be happy doing so but it’s possible and people do it all the time to make their lives easier or to keep the peace with family or for many other reasons.

Episode 5 gave HUGE VIBES of going back into the closet when living with your parents or just visiting. And Mizu looked SO uncomfortable and awkward in woman’s clothing and doing “wife things” (partly cause they have never done that before) and maybe it was my own projecting but I felt so uncomfortable FOR Mizu.

These things don’t necessarily mean being a transgender man specifically. Gender is actually really complicated and has ALOT to do with what society deems it.

Mizu is a masculine person. Being what Japan wants women to be isn’t in line with what Mizu is. A violent, practical, stoic, cold, masculine, confident and capable warrior.

dressing up as a woman with the makeup ONLY to try and make her husband happy. She didn’t WANT to. “To soften her husbands heart, the bride… danced” performed femininity FOR HIM. Only for Mikio to betray her for, in his eyes, being more masculine than him, by beating him in a physical fight.

Mizu is both the ronin and the bride. Mizu will be whatever they need to in order to achieve their owed deaths. They HAVE to be a man to get their revenge but that doesn’t mean Mizu WANTS to be a woman. (To be fair who WOULD in that time but I digress) and it doesn’t mean they WANT to be a man. They WANT their revenge. Everything is secondary to that.

Mizu is so different from other characters…

I grew up in a kinda misogynistic place and my mom really didn’t let me “do boy stuff” or dress masculine in any sense until my late teens. I my self don’t know if I can even call myself Trans. But I’m masculine, I like looking like a man and dressing as one but I don’t WANT to be a man necessarily. But I don’t WANT to be a woman. I feel like we as a society put to much distinction between the two and the people who don’t fit either side get left out at times.

Mizu is such a relatable character to me, like no other characters complicated feelings about their own sex and gender have ever come close.

They are for those who don’t have a strong sense of their own gender. Especially those who are biologically female and hesitant to lean into their sex because of the societal baggage.

Once people realize that how you dress, how you act, and what you do in reality have nothing to do with your bio sex and everything with what society has forced people to do based on factors out of our control is the day we can finally stop having these conversations.

Do what you want, gender is fake.

But Mizu is forever 🫶

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #bes #mizu #mizus gender #there’s so much more I want to say but I’ve already put out a wall of text.#I WILL block if you come in here with a “nuh uh 🤓#i would write more about her as a woman but I just revolves someone else’s big wall of text about that #read it if your interested they were much better worded than I #he/him bisexual lesbian man

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glorified-red · 2 years ago

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Auburn Traditions (Damian Wayne x Reader)

summary: After your wedding, Damian spends the night finding his name in your bridal henna. In the safety of your presence, he can share his true feelings to you. word count: 1,550~ warnings: none Special thanks to @quillsareswords for bouncing ideas around until this fic was born. I am soft for this man. This is the mushiest thing I've written in so long. Literally kicking my feet writing this.

It came as no surprise when Damian popped the question.

You two flourished beside each other, growing individually in the comfort of each other’s embrace. For years you stood beside Damian. Through high school you helped him study every exam season, said quick greetings in the halls, and even helped him find all his classes his first year. In college you motivated him through finals, went to every pesky orientation, and cheered the loudest when he walked across the stage one final time.

Almost in tandem, Damian returned the favor. He asked you to Prom your senior year, holding up a shy bouquet of flowers and a corsage. He attended every performance of yours, big or small, because the mere presence of him was more support than you could ever wish for. Damian dragged you to bed on long nights and held you through so many tough ones, never letting go through it all.

You moved out together years later after you found the perfect forever home and finally made it yours. The walls were painted deep into the night, muted tones swiped onto his nose only for him to fling it back at you. Together, Christmas lights were hung across the house year after year as you danced to the upbeat tunes in your own living room while the fireplace warms you up after a long day in the snow.

So when Damian kneeled before you, his heart pouring out of his chest as he spoke words of reflection and his own green eyes shining with affection, you had to say yes. A year of bliss with Damian Wayne, your fiancé, soon to be husband. You carved out a section of this chaotic world and made it your own, a section full of adoration and unwavering love.

The wedding night was one to remember. It was an extravagant night filled with family, music, and laughter. Damian couldn’t keep his eyes off his bride for very long, far too many of the wedding photos showed Damian’s soft gaze towards you.

Your vows were heartfelt and private, opting to say your true feelings in the comfort of each other and no one more. Damian Wayne, the man of very few words, had the most poetic words fall from his lips that day. Damian Wayne, the man with ironclad emotions, cried in front of you when the vows continued forward—not that he’d ever admit that, but you knew.

So here you were, the wedding night bliss still radiating off of you as you sat in front of Damian—your husband—on your shared bed. Your outfits were hung up ages ago, torn off the second you could and changed into something more cozy with softer fabrics and looser seams. Bobby pins were scattered across the bathroom sink as you let your hair rest. Damian’s own hair was ruffled, the gel long since worn off.

Neither of you minded, no amount of makeup or luxurious outfits could make Damian fall for you any harder than he already has.

“You’re really intent on finding it,” you commented playfully, your voice dipped into softer volume. Your hands rested in his, decorated in vibrant amber. Delicate florals weaved their way across your fingertips and palms, vines twirled across the negative space until their leaves grew on your hands. Mother Earth herself had kissed your hands and let her beauty flow across your skin—her own blessing to the marriage.

Henna: a tradition that was nothing short of mesmerizing. You remembered the day Damian asked for this, a small portion of his heritage incorporated into the best night of his life. And of course, you said yes, accepting every part of him happily.

His hands traced along the arabic style that seeped into your skin, spaced out leaves and florals that left a gorgeous amount of free space to show off your own beautiful skin. It wasn’t nearly as intricate as Mehndi, for this style of henna focused on the palms to bring in love and cherish memories. But every dot on your skin was as fascinating as the one before it, carefully placed into a beautiful design.

“Of course,” Damian responded, his gaze incredibly focused on the detailed pattern on your hands. He flipped over your hands to look at the top. “The fate of the marriage rests on this moment.”

You snorted, “You just don’t want to admit that I’m the dominant one in the relationship.”

Damian tsked, “You wish.”

“Well,” you looked over at the clock, “you have five minutes before that superstition comes true. Better hurry up, bird boy.”

“There’s no need to rush me, I will find it before the night is over.”

You hummed in disbelief, a playful tone falling from your lips. The room fell to comfortable silence once more, the only sound was the soft breathing that landed onto the tips of your fingers.

His hands were so gentle as they touched yours, a faint warmth emitting from his own hands and transferring to yours. Even as he turned your hands this way and that, his fingertips traced along the design. The touch was feather-light, almost tickling the surface of your hand.

He never touched with much pressure. Even though the dye was a deep rich color, beautifully stained on your hands and wrists, he didn’t dare to wear it thin. Talia herself told you every tradition as she crafted the henna on your hand, happy to play such a significant role in her son's marriage—and welcoming you to the family? She was overjoyed to receive that call.

So when your henna turned into a darker tone overnight, you immediately knew the deep connection between you and Damian was gorgeously on display. The color signified more than just love and an unwavering bond, but it also represented your place beside your new family, and the love you will surely receive from them.

“You look beautiful with this on, Zawjati,” he spoke just barely above a whisper, as if the amber design had Damian mesmerized. The words fell from his lips absent-mindedly, a new term of endearment taking flight in an instant. The gesture meant more to him than he could ever explain, from the reconnection to understanding, all the way to acceptance, his heart was unbelievably full.

You glanced up at him, your eyes met the softened gaze of a man so deeply in love, the rest of the word slipped away. That gaze conveyed more to you than any poetic vow.

Your heart was equally as full. His simple wedding band was smooth against your fingers, the new shimmer of metal was vibrant against the tan of his skin. Your own traditions having melted into the wedding with the rings, a permanent symbol of the promise Damian made to you each and every day: to love and cherish you.

“That’s a new one,” you said, pushing past the breathless feeling in your lungs.

He rolled your fingers in his and sparks flew up your chest just like the first day you met him, even after all these years. He hummed in question, his eyes scanning the patterns with deep concentration.

“Zawjati,” you continued. “What does that one mean?”

Damian shifted slightly, not uncomfortably so, but as if his brain was mulling words around behind his eyes so his body swayed on instinct. “My wife.”

The smile that broke across your face happened in an instant, a full gleam of happiness filled your body that you couldn’t possibly contain. “Oh?” you teased, as if the words didn’t burrow themselves in your chest to create blossoming trees, “I’ve upgraded now.”

The corner of his lip ticked upwards so slightly you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t staring. There was a tint of your lipstick stained on his lips that you didn’t notice before. His fingers toyed with yours, they slipped in between yours with a ticklish touch.

“I’ve been wanting to call you that for years,” he said it so simply, like that profession didn’t take the air out of your lungs and make your heart flutter alongside it.

“Years?” you breathed out, stunned by his words. You knew his love for you was profound, but to be looking forward to spending the rest of his life with you for years? Your head whirled from the whiplash.

“Yes.” Just as simply as the words that came before. “My heart knew who it belonged to the second you entered my life. You were the only one who ever saw me for who I really was, not who I could become. You were the only one who made me look forward to living, not for the sake of saving lives to simply do it again the next day, but to keep coming home to you.”

“You make the future seem possible. You,” he breathed, “you make me want to be better, not because I have to, but because I truly want to. That is why I’ve always been more partial to the other translation of Zawjati.”

The word rolled off his tongue and your heart danced. “And what’s that?”

His thumb swiped across your pulse point where his name was imprinted on your skin in subtle cursive, easily blending into a vine. He gently brought the point to his lips.

“My better half.”

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

#Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne x you #Damian Wayne x y/n #robin #Damian wayne #robin x reader #robin x you #robin x y/n #Arab Damian wayne #bridal henna #fluff #batfam #batfamily #batboys #dc #dc comics #batman

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justwritedreams · 7 months ago

Text

Welcome to the Kingdom | Jeno

Chapter Twelve: The Wedding

Prince Jeno x Princess Reader, enemies to lovers au!, royalty au!

Word count: 2770

Genre: drama, fake relationship

Author: maari

Warnings: Jealous Jeno again bc like it, mentions of alchool and some sexual tension.

Note: FINALLY THANK GOD! PLEASE DON'T HIT ME 😭😭 You don't know how I wanted to finish this chapter but couldn't, now things are going to start getting interesting 😏

Summary: The wedding is finally going to happen. Will we have more surprises?

<<< Previous | Masterlist |

⪢ NCT Masterlist

Taglist: @floweronacloud, @cookydream, @travelleratheart101, @ilvaussie, @tyongf-sunflower99, @mings-cafe , @n0hyuck , @waltermitty97 , @jihoonismydad , @madaboutjunmyeon , @actually-vl , @neomooniez, @pvppyhao , @ikayyyyyy (can’t tag you honey 😞), @everloving-avenue , @moonchele , @markspossibilities

Y/N tried to control her heavy breathing with exercises she had learned but she still couldn't make her anxiety lessen as she looked at her glamorous and angelic reflection in the mirror.

Even though she had tried on the same dress several times before the wedding, now she was ready and just minutes away from entering the cathedral to get married.

She was nervous that day, she had woken up early to have a good coffee and start getting ready, her hair and makeup needed to be perfect and it would take time for that to happen.

She was finally going to get married!

As for her fiancé, she hadn't seen him since the night before that kept haunting her mind. She still didn't understand what had happened in the jacuzzi, whether it had been a lapse of carnal desire or simply one of the steps in their little game, but she couldn't contain herself. It was stronger than all the provocations until then.

Maybe that's why she was like that, she was anxious but also scared, she didn't know what awaited her from now on. She would be bound to Jeno for the rest of her life, for the good of her kingdom as well as his.

Yeah, actually spending 5 minutes alone before going to the ceremony hadn't been a good idea since her mind kept creating all the possible scenarios.

Her daydreams were interrupted when the bedroom door was opened, she turned around and looked at her father's figure, traditionally dressed in royal formalwear, he was also wearing the crown.

She smiled nervously at her father who was visibly excited to see his daughter dressed as a bride.

“You are the most beautiful princess in the world.” he smiled widely and walked towards her, extending his hand.

“You’re only saying that because I’m your daughter.” she replied, holding her father's hand.

“I’m saying this because it’s the truth.” he kissed her forehead and looked at her deeply. Y/N stared at her father expectantly, she was ready to listen to her father's advice before getting married.

“Don’t be afraid, marriage isn’t that bad.”

She laughed lightly.

“Even though it’s just a strategic alliance?”

“Every marriage is an alliance.” she looked at him suspiciously. “See me and your mother.”

“The difference is that you really love each other.”

“And it can’t be like that with you and Jeno?” he asked and Y/N didn't immediately deny it.

The truth is that as much as she wanted to give a negative answer, there was no way she could have predicted it.

It could go very wrong or it could go very right.

But she was more prepared for the possibility that it would go wrong.

Loving Jeno seemed like a forbidden idea in every way.

“That’s what we’ll see, right?” she shrugged.

“Until then,” her father extended his arm for her to support and she did. “I just want you to be happy.”

She smiled excitedly and rested her head on his shoulder for a few seconds.

Even though it was an arranged marriage, a strategic and political alliance, she couldn't deny that she was happy that day.

A lot would change from then on and she felt more than ready.

The princess found her mother at the end of the stairs and she had to control her tears when she saw her, her mother was visibly moved and hugged her with a strength that seemed to recharge Y/N's energy.

Leaving the castle to the historic carriage and the journey to the cathedral were overwhelming for Y/N, the only concern she had was being able to breathe properly so that she wouldn't show the immense nervousness she was feeling, she felt her father's watchful eyes on her and the mother's voice sounded distant. The princess trembled internally with anxiety, in a way she had never felt before.

She let out her breath as soon as she held her father's hand as he got out of the carriage and extended it so he could help her out of the carriage. She heard the voices and applause of those watching the wedding outside the cathedral and smiled restrainedly behind her, waving briefly.

Y/N heard the camera flashes capturing that moment and especially her dress which, although it had some classic details, was undoubtedly very different from what they had speculated. The princess had opted for a dress that had embroidered details on the skirt that wasn’t too full but long enough to provide an elegant tail, the bust was well worked with the same designs and highlighted the princess's waist, the sleeve fell over her shoulders. It gave a clear view of the diamond necklace that had been in the family for generations, the veil, although it only had the same embroidered details on the front, was long and covered the braid she had made.

The queen extended the bouquet to Y/N who thanked her with a nervous smile, the mother then entered the cathedral while her husband stayed behind and prepared to enter with their daughter.

“Don’t let me fall, dad.” she whispered, not even recognizing her own voice, she sounded so vulnerable.

"Never."

She smiled at him and then heard the wedding march play imposingly, she took a deep breath and raised her head before starting to walk slowly into the cathedral, even though the corridor was long and it was crowded, her eyes looked for Jeno and she even managed to control her expression of surprise but her eyes didn't lie.

He wore a formal uniform that wasn’t only elegant but also respected the history of Y/N's kingdom, using the colors of the family crest. Blue, white and gold.

The outfit had looked so good on Jeno that the princess couldn't take her eyes off him, she had imagined that he would probably wear the famous white and gold suit but she was completely wrong.

He had his hair perfectly combed so that only one strand fell into his eye.

And the eye... Y/N didn't seem to be the only one mesmerized at the beginning of the ceremony, Jeno also admired her from top to bottom without any discretion.

As soon as the king handed his daughter to Jeno, the prince's hand was as cold as Y/N, the ceremony began and went faster than both could have imagined, and it was true to say that neither of them paid that much attention to the words from the priest since they were too busy watching each other out of the corner of their eyes.

Y/N only felt nervous again when it was time to exchange the rings, she didn't want Jeno to notice that her hand was shaking but it was impossible.

She wasn't nervous just because Jeno recited the vows looking deep into her eyes, but because she knew that after the exchange of rings, the ceremony would end with the bride and groom's passionate kiss.

And well, even though she and Jeno showed the world that they were extremely in love with each other, she had never kissed him until then and it was obvious that she was scared of it.

Because she didn't know how her body would react to the kiss and doing that in front of millions of people was scary, to say the least.

The princess felt her heart pound against her ribs when the priest announced that they could kiss, she looked at Jeno anxiously and all she saw in his eyes was a fire that made her ears heat up.

She already felt her legs shaking when he held both of her hands. She was ready to lean over but Jeno had other plans.

He knelt down and kissed Y/N's ring for a long time and then rested his forehead on her hand, who although she was confused, felt her stomach turn. He received a standing ovation from all the witnesses.

Jeno had clearly knelt before the crown of the kingdom and in a silent gesture showed that he respected and would serve that country as the husband of the future queen, there was no way to show greater devotion than that.

He had just won the entire kingdom and the respect of Y/N, even though she was disappointed that she hadn't kissed him like a common bride, she silently thanked him for the gesture when he stood up.

After all, she was absolutely right. They were no ordinary bride and groom.

[...]

Y/N felt her cheek hurt from smiling at the people who came to greet them, Jeno was next to her with his hand comfortably on her waist. The princess had already changed her dress for the wedding reception, although it wasn't exactly a white dress, it was as elegant as the one for the ceremony, worked in stones from the short sleeve to the long skirt, the neckline was perfect for her to continue wearing the family jewel and had removed her veil so everyone could admire the braid.

The Lee family had been the first to greet the newlyweds and Y/N could see a little sadness in Mark's eyes but he hugged her the same way as always, wishing her happiness and she could do nothing but thank him.

Now, Y/N was talking to her cousin a little further away from Jeno as he was talking to his brothers. They had already greeted all the guests and were free to move around the room.

“My God, you two…”

The princess looked at her cousin who was taking turns looking between her and Jeno.

“What happened, Yeri?”

“You two are impossible, you know?” Y/N raised her eyebrow, confused. “Just looking at you can already feel the sexual tension.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head.

“You’re kidding me.” She drank some of the champagne she was holding and her cousin looked at her offended.

"I'm serious. This honeymoon is going to be promising.”

The princess swallowed hard and felt the champagne bubble inside her throat.

Oh sure, all she needed to imagine was the honeymoon.

“He didn’t even kiss me.” Y/N remembered in disbelief.

“And you’ve never heard of foreplay?” Yeri asked and her cousin's eyes widened, looking around her to see if anyone had heard.

"Shut up please." she begged.

“He’s raising your expectations, after all, you’ll finally get some action after so long without…”

Y/N looked towards the main door of the room and her jaw dropped when she saw a familiar figure, as she grabbed her cousin's arm so she would stop talking.

“Tell me I’m not drunk and I’m actually seeing who I think I’m seeing.”

Yeri followed her cousin's eyes and smiled mischievously.

“Your wedding party just started getting more lively.” hummed and the princess looked at her quickly, partly in panic.

However, the cousin moved away from her when she realized that the reason for Y/N's attention was walking towards her, letting her arm fall to her side as she stood still.

“Y/N.”

She felt her heart race when she heard the voice, it had been so long since she spoke to him, she couldn't even remember the last time.

“Hongjoong.” She smiled.

He was different, more mature. He wore a black formal suit with red and gold details, his light brown hair very different from the blonde she knew.

“I needed to come and greet the bride.” smiled sideways

“I didn’t know you were here, I didn’t see you at the ceremony.”

“And did you notice anyone in the cathedral?”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. In fact, she couldn't identify even half of the people in the cathedral because of such nervousness.

“Did my parents invite you?” she asked, interested, seeing him nod.

“Our commercial relationships still remain very strong.”

Y/N tilted her head to admire him. She had always known about the potential of becoming one of the main food suppliers for Y/N's kingdom but seeing it actually happen was impressive.

From afar, Jeno watched the princess talk animatedly with a man he hadn't met until then. He tried not to stare at the two of them but it was practically impossible considering that he saw something there that he hadn't seen with anyone else until then, intimacy.

Y/N seemed extremely comfortable with the man, who he noticed was a noble by the posture and clothes he wore, she looked at him with admiration and considering that he had met the princess's entire family, he knew that this wasn't her cousin.

Jeno's jaw clenched when he saw her take her hand to the man's arm and his sudden reaction didn't go unnoticed by Haechan.

“You guys just got married and you already have a competitor for her heart?” the brother spoke quietly so that only Jeno could hear, even using his famous joking tone, it wasn't enough for Jeno not to glare at him.

Haechan raised his hands in a sign of surrender and didn't even need to provoke his brother further, who began to walk in long strides towards Y/N and the excited guest.

Jeno wasn't jealous, at least that's what he repeated in his head as he approached the princess, but he made it very explicit when he put his arm around his wife's waist, who was startled by the sudden touch.

“My love, I was looking for you.” He kissed the top of her head and she looked at him with a frown. “Don’t forget you promised me a dance.”

"Oh yes of course." Y/N agreed, still looking at Jeno in confusion.

An unsettling silence fell between the three and Y/N cleared her throat.

“This is Duke Hongjoong, he is from the northern kingdom.” she introduced the two of them and Jeno reached out to squeeze his hand tighter than he should have.

“From the Kim family.” Hongjoong added and Jeno raised his eyebrow.

He really wasn't wrong about the guy. He just didn't know that Y/N was his friend.

“We have some commercial business and he came to greet us.”

Jeno nodded silently and took turns looking between the princess and the duke, the fact that his wife didn't look him in the eye said more than he wanted to understand.

"Congratulations on the wedding!" Hongjoong spoke and Jeno smiled discreetly.

There was something bubbling hot inside him, like snake venom.

"Thank you very much. I hope you come to court more often.” Jeno wanted to hit himself for sounding so polite, he actually wanted to threaten the Duke and not seem like he wanted to be friends.

Y/N stared at Jeno in disbelief, it was the second time that day that he surprised her.

But if he knew the past between Y/N and Hongjoong, he definitely wouldn't invite him to the castle.

"Of course it will be a pleasure." Hongjoong took a step back and greeted them. "See you soon."

Jeno hugged Y/N's waist tighter when he saw that the duke directed his last look at her and he didn't like how natural it felt.

Okay, he had perfectly understood what had happened there. There was a history between the two and he didn't know if he wanted to know what it was.

Before he could ask anything, Y/N's parents approached while the princess scratched the back of her head uncomfortably.

“Jeno, Y/N, you will spend the night at the castle.” the king informed and they both looked at him in surprise.

“In the castle?”

“Your father and I have agreed that you and Jeno should go to the chalet tomorrow morning.” the queen explained. “It’s further away, surrounded by security guards. You will be safe.”

“I thought we were going to the summer house.” Y/N said, looking at her father and then her mother.

"It's risky." was all his father said.

“Your parents are right, Y/N.” Jeno patted Y/N's back and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “We have a lot of guests here, we need to take care of our safety and theirs too.” Y/N pondered for a bit until she nodded.

"You can extend the honeymoon as long as you want.”

Although the princess didn't want to agree out loud with Yeri, she needed to admit that there was sexual tension there.

And Jeno's warm palm wasn't helping at all, especially when she remembered that the next day she would be alone with Jeno in the chalet away from the royal family and everyone else.

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 4 months ago

Note

(Mulan AU)

*after many wars in the Kingdom of Eden which resulted in the deaths of most of the male population, the kingdom decided that it is now up to the women to fight for their kingdom with the few remaining male officers to lead the armies since the few men were needed to keep the population of Eden strong, it was then that a wrathful warlord named Satan decided to strike at Eden, in the Kingdom of Eden a noblewoman named Sera heard once again that her son Adam hadn’t picked a bride*

Sera: Adam, I had thought that you would have liked being married to Eve. You two are friends.

Adam: Yeah, that is what we are friends and nothing more.

*Adam was practicing with Emily’s sword, though Emily was meant to one day take up the mantle of warrior, she was too gentle of a soul to be a fighter and that fit Adam better though it was illegal for him now, Sera beckoned for him to sit by her*

Sera: My Starlight, if fate had been fair you would have been one of the greatest warriors around.

Adam: But I was born in a time where it was illegal for me to do it.

*she hugged her son understanding his frustration, just then they heard a call to the town square where it was decreed that all families with a woman of fighting must join the army to fight against Satan’s army, when the Kadmon family was called, a frightened Emily stepped forward to get her draft papers, but Adam stepped between them*

Adam: My sister is too young to fight.

Recruitment Officer: She looks to be only a year under fighting age, with how desperately we need soldiers we can make an exception.

Emily: Adam please.

*Emily grabbed the draft papers, but she looked like she was on the verge of tears*

Sera: Adam, you can’t go make a scene like that.

*Adam was walking home with his mother and sister wishing there was something he could do to keep Emily from fighting*

(I would place Adam at about 20 years old and Lucifer at 30 years old, so there is a little bit of an age gap but not too crazy, I am also thinking of having Eve, Lute, and Vaggie be the three soldiers that Mulan befriends and in this AU they will know Adam’s secret and are willing to help him keep it. Emily would be 17 when the fighting age is 18)

((Yeah Eve would recognize him after she got a good enough look at him. Poor Emily so frightened.))

Sera: It's going to be okay Emily sweetheart. You're a strong capable young woman.

Emily: I don't want to fight mum.

Sera: I know, but there is nothing that can be done.

Adam hated this, he didn't want his sister to die in war. He didn't want to stay back and make a bunch of babies with some woman he didn't love. He didn't have the heart to tell his mother that he preferred men.

That night, Adam laid awake when an idea came to him. What if he was the oldest Kadmon daughter?

He snuck into his sister's room while she slept. Adam took her draft letter, lucky it didn't have her first name on it just the family name. He then took a wig she owned, long brown and wavy, some basic makeup and a couple bras.

He wasn't sure how to feel that they were the same cup size.

Adam dressed up as a woman and even dawned the armor that Emily would need. He shaved his facial hair, arm pits and legs just in case. Adam used a protective cup to conceal his manhood.

Adam in his best female voice practiced in the mirror: Hello, my name is Adaline Kadmon. I'm the eldest daughter of the Kadmon family.

He said it over and over until it sounded just right.

Adam wrote a small note for his mother and sister for when they would wake up. It said that he was sorry, he loved them, but he had to do this and promised to be careful.

Adam: No turning back now.

When morning came, Adam left on their family horse to meet with the recruiting officer, all of his things packed.

Adam approached the officer, his heart pounding. He looked at the name tag it read Michael.

Michael: Name and paper please.

Adam handed him the draft paper: My name is Adaline Kadmon, eldest daughter of the Kadmon family.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x adam #guitarduck #adam x lucifer #Mulan Au #ask

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autumnshighlady · 10 months ago

Text

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 20)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: reader meet's Eris's mother, and Azriel offers a helping hand. An unexpected visitor comes to autumn, I cannot do summaries to save my life

warnings: graphic violence/torture, Cassian slander, tw B*ron sucking but also kinda slaying, implied SA, themes of depression, angst because apparently i can't write happy things

word count: 7.4k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: two chapters in one day to spoil y'all as thanks for waiting so long for part 19 lmao. sorry if this chapter seems slow, but the next two chapters are doozies so gear up!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You barely heard the hushed voices of the servants as they fiddled with the wedding dress. Pins poked at your skin as adjustments to the garment were made, but you didn’t care. You simply stood there silently, staring at the husk of a female who looked like you in the mirror. Nobody had asked you anything – not for your opinion on the dress, how it felt, nothing. Not that you expected them to. They were all aiming to please Beron Vanserra, not you.

For the past week, you hadn’t heard from or seen Nesta. Or Eris. Ever since Malgorm paid you an unexpected visit that night, Eris had warned you that it would be too dangerous to meet up for the next while. That Malgorm was likely to be excited about his new bride, and the risk of him showing up unexpectedly was too great. You hadn’t even dared to use the bond to communicate with Nesta, for fear the magic would somehow be detected by Beron’s many complex wards.

Once again, you were completely alone.

It was hard not to fall back into that panic you felt when you had woken up in Rhysand’s dungeons. That same feeling of helplessness washed over you again and again, and you had no idea what to do. Nesta, Eris, and Azriel had all promised you that this marriage wouldn’t happen, but refused to let you in on any of their planning.

“It’s too risky,” Azriel had pointed out to you when you protested. “You cannot know anything about what we are planning. If Beron or Malgorm finds out, we cannot risk you being implicated.”

Naturally, you had bitched and complained about how they didn’t have a right to risk themselves for your safety, but it landed on deaf ears. One hard look from your mate was enough to make you shut up about the matter.

They had promised to do something, yet the wedding grew closer every day. Beron had originally planned for Eris and Nesta to be married first, but whispers from the servants informed you that Malgorm had insisted that his wedding be moved up as fast as possible so he could breed you sooner. The thought made you want to vomit. Shockingly, Beron had agreed, his apparent reasoning being it gave them more time to plan the grand wedding of his eldest son.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The dress was pretty – a thick satin gown made with the purest of white fabric, with long sleeves and a high neck. Gold thread was embroidered around the neckline, going down the bust and arms like tendrils of flame. It was a suitable wedding dress – definitely not as elaborate as Nesta’s would be, but befitting of a marriage within a royal family.

You had been completely overwhelmed the past week with the amount of servants flocking you to prepare for the wedding. They fiddled with your hair and makeup, poking and prodding you like you were a doll for dress up.

You shuddered to think of how much more chaotic it would be for Nesta and her wedding with Eris, the eldest. After all, Malgorm was only Beron’s second youngest.

When you weren’t being prepared for the wedding, you spent your time alone in your room, laying on the bed and watching the raindrops trickle down the window. You dared not wander the halls to entertain yourself, the fear of running into Malgorm too great. Realistically, he knew where your room was so if he truly wanted to find you, nothing could stop him. But you did not want to take the unnecessary risk.

Every time you slept for the past week, your dreams were plagued by nightmares of Malgorm. You’d wake up in tears most of the time, yearning for Nesta’s comforting presence or Eris’s smooth words to soothe you. You could still feel his hand around your throat, the remnants of the bruises still visible.

Conveniently enough, the neckline of the dress was just high enough to cover those marks on your neck.

A quiet knock at the door snapped you out of your trance. The servants scurried into whatever formation was required of them seconds before the wooden door opened. You tore your gaze away from the mirror to see a petite female with long auburn hair entering your room. Her skin was pale as snow, covered in heavy green robes. A sheer gold veil covered her head, as if meant to hide her from the world. Her russet eyes landed on you and she let out a small smile.

“My lady.” One of the servants said in greeting, bowing her head. The female’s face was unreadable, a mask of boredom so similar to the one you saw Eris wear.

“Leave us, please.” Her voice was weak, as if she was not accustomed to using it. “I would like to spend some time with my daughter.”

Your heart ached at the Lady of Autumn’s words, even though you knew they weren’t entirely genuine. You missed your own mother so terribly, that hearing someone else refer to you as their daughter was bittersweet.

The servants obediently trailed out of the room, closing the door behind them. You bowed your head respectfully, and when you met her eyes again you nearly crumpled. Gone was the Lady’s mask of boredom. It was replaced by one of sadness and pity, as if she were looking at a younger version of herself in the mirror. Lucien had told you about the horror his mother had endured under her husband’s cruelty, his stories making you shudder. How ironic it was now, that you were to be subjected to the same fate it seemed.

“Greetings, (Y/N),” She said. “I am the High Lord’s wife, Lirilla Vanserra. It is a pleasure to meet my son’s bride.”

A single tear fell down your cheek. The heavy fabric of the dress was stifling, and your lungs felt like they weren’t getting enough air. But you were too tired to properly cry. You had weeped for the first few nights, and it seemed your body was drained. All you could do was stand there numbly, letting that singular tear make its way down your blotchy skin.

“It is an honour to meet you, my Lady.” Your words did not feel like your own as you spoke them. “And a blessing to be engaged to your son.”

The look that Eris’s mother gave you was one that could only be described as utterly heartbreaking as she said, “Oh my sweet, I think we both know that is not true.”

You were taken aback by her bold words. Every time you had seen the Lady of Autumn this past week it had been like catching a glimpse of a ghost. She had never spoken, keeping her head down and scurrying around like a frightened mouse. While she still seemed frail, her bluntness surprised you. Perhaps Beron wasn’t the one who taught Eris to put on a mask.

“It’s alright, we may speak freely here.” Lirilla said, as if she could read your expression. “The guards at the door are loyal to me, and the ears of this castle do not reach this corridor. May we sit down?”

You nodded, following your future mother-in-law to the edge of the bed. She sat down elegantly, smoothing her skirts with the poise of a female ready for her appearance at court. You, on the other hand, were less graceful, pins stabbing you as you tried to collect the white skirt.

“That is a lovely dress,” Lirilla said. “Is it to your liking?”

“Yes.” You said. “I’m just not used to this much skirt and heaviness. I pray I do not trip on my way down the aisle.”

The Lady’s expression darkened, melancholic sadness shadowing her face. “I am sorry,” Her voice was quiet and hushed. “That you are to be wed to the cruellest of my sons. I do not know how you ended up in this situation, but it is clear that this marriage is against your will.”

You frowned. “The High Lord did not tell you my circumstances?”

Lirilla smiled sadly. “My husband does not tell me most things. And I suspect yours won’t either. Malgorm was, is, the most difficult of my children. I did my best to raise him to be a good male, but like almost all my other sons, he fell into the clutches of my husband too easily.”

“All except Lucien?” You asked tentatively, unsure if you were overstepping. A grave expression crossed her face for a moment, the pain of her youngest son’s banishment from her court evident.

“He told me about you, you know.” Lirilla’s russet eyes were glazed with the memories of the past. “That's why I came to see you. I had to make sure it was the same female that Lucien had befriended all those years ago. How is your family doing, my dear? Is your mom still baking for the local schools?”

Your heart sank, both at the memory of your family and the fact that Lirilla was so cut off from the events of the outside world. “They’re all dead,” You said solemnly. “Hybern attacked my village, and I was the only survivor.”

Her eyes widened with shock. You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to tell her everything as you remembered Azriel’s words. Begrudgingly, you knew he was right – as much as you wanted to break down and tell the Lady of Autumn everything, it was too risky. The less people who knew the better, and while the female had survived Beron’s cruelty for this long, you couldn’t bring yourself to be selfish enough to burden her with the knowledge of everything else that got you into this situation.

“I am terribly sorry,” Lirilla put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I wish I could say that things will get easier, but they won’t. Not with Malgorm. I do not wish to scare you, but I will not sit by and let you go into this marriage blind. Malgorm does not treat females kindly, including me. He will humiliate you, and cause you pain in more ways than one. I will do what I can to shield you from it, but I cannot stop this and for that I am sorry.”

You shook your head, fiddling with a pin in the white skirts. “No, I cannot ask that of you, my Lady. This suffering I am about to endure is mine to bear, and mine only. Please, do not put yourself in harm's way to try and protect me.”

Another devastatingly sad smile pulled at Lirilla’s lips. She gently reached up and stroked your cheek. “Oh, my love. I am in harm’s way every day in this castle. That will not change. You are to be my daughter, my first daughter. I may not be able to stand up for you, or even spend much time with you outside of stolen moments like this, but that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you however I can.”

Your voice cracked as you spoke. “I don’t want to marry him.”

“I know. But outside of this room, you must face it with a stiff lip. Any sign of reluctance will be punishable. Give Malgorm what he wants. He always gets what he wants in the end, and trying to resist does more harm than good. It is unpleasant, but that is the safest way to handle him.”

You shuddered at her words. You knew that she meant more than just fetching the male his afternoon tea, and your stomach churned. The breath you took trembled from effort to not cry. How had everything come to this?

“Oh honey…” Lirilla gently pulled you into her, wrapping her tiny arms around your trembling body as you let out a muffled sob. “Growing up, I always wanted a daughter. Yet now I have grown to fear the day I get blessed with a daughter-in-law, because I cannot bear to see this vicious cycle repeat over and over again for centuries.”

You cried into your mother-in-law’s arms, letting her warm embrace chase away the chill in your bones. You knew that once you were married, Malgorm would likely not leave you alone unsupervised, especially with his mother. This might just be your only chance to receive some sort of wisdom and comfort from the Lady of Autumn, so you held onto her tightly and let her stroke your hair.

“It’s ok, my child.” She soothed. “Be strong. If you are hurt, have one of the servants seek out the healer Doreah. She will be able to take the pain away and heal internal damage while ensuring the external wounds can still be seen by Malgorm. Should you need access to a safe place, take the first stairwell on the left all the way down into the basement. There is a library there with food, fresh clothes, and anything you need. The guards around it are loyal to me and will cover for you if your whereabouts are questioned. Nobody except for me and my most trusted staff knows about that place. I have had it glamoured by an old friend so that if anyone sees you going down the stairwell, it looks like you’re headed to the female-only bathing area. Not even my husband or Melgorm would follow you there.”

You felt Lirilla gently ease you out of her grip, sitting you upright. She pulled out a handkerchief and gently dried your face, muttering a spell and erasing all evidence of your crying. “I can hear Malgorm coming to visit you,” She whispered urgently. “Remember everything I’ve told you.”

The Lady of Autumn pulled away from you just in time as the door swung open, the uninvited visitor not even bothering to knock. Lirilla’s kind, pitying look had swiftly been replaced by her submissive, passive mask. She stood up hastily at her son’s arrival, bowing her head. “Malgorm,” She muttered, keeping her eyes on the floor. “It is bad luck to see your bride in her wedding dress before the–”

“Quiet.” Malgorm snapped at his mother, and she flinched as if she had been struck. You wondered how much of it was an act, and how much of it was genuine fear of her son. Malgorm’s amber gaze fixed on you greedily. “I don’t give a shit about such stupid tradition. I should be able to see my wife whenever I please. Now get out, father wants to see you.”

Lirilla nodded, gathering her skirts and hurrying past him like a ghost. Her feet made no sound on the floor as she left the room without a hint of a glance back. You were nervous, left alone with the cruel Vanserra brother. But you stood up and bowed your head, trying to mimic Lirilla’s submissive demeanour.

Malgorm made a disapproving sound as he eyed up your dress with disgust. “My father wants you to look pure and traditional,” He scoffed. “To have as much of your body covered up as possible. If it were up to me, you’d be walking down that aisle with your tits and cunt on display for everyone to see.”

Your face burned at his words, and you swallowed the bile in your throat and spoke as sweetly as possible, “I shall do whatever pleases you, my lord.”

Malgorm snickered, his dirty hand coming up to roughly yank a lock of hair out of your face. “That you shall. Luckily for you, this wedding is about pleasing my father. So you will be nice and covered up until the event is over.” He chuckled darkly, his hot breath fanning across your face as he leaned in too closely. “But the second it is over, you belong to me. And I will rip this pretty dress to shreds and stuff that tight cunt of yours every hour until you are bred. Understood?”

You nodded, even as the room swayed around you. “It will be a great honour to bear your child, my lord.” The words felt wrong on your lips, like oil had been poured in your mouth and choked you as it slid down your throat. You were saying what you had to say to keep him happy, you reminded yourself. Nesta and Eris would stop the wedding before it got to that point. Eris had reassured you that even Malgorm would respect the High Lord’s wishes to wait until you were wed to him to bed you, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Malgorm was unhinged enough to do it anyways.

“I expect you to give me sons.” He said coldly. “If you dare curse me with a daughter, I will tear her from the cord and feed her to my brother’s hounds before you can even see her face.”

You swallowed thickly, fear making the hair on your arms raise at the image. You wondered if Eris had built a reputation that was so cruel his brother was sure he would have no qualms about letting his hounds murder a newborn child. The thought made you shudder. You knew Eris had to play a role to survive his father’s court, but you did not know how far he would go. And while you trusted him, that did not erase the inkling of fear.

“I shall pray day and night that the Mother blesses me with sons.” You managed to get the words out without stuttering, which you were happy with. Luckily, Malgorm seemed satisfied enough with you answer.

“Excellent.” He said smoothly, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a sharp knife. Your blood ran cold. “Now, let’s play.”

*********************

You couldn’t be bothered to try and wipe the blood off your stomach. You had no energy, no strength to even curl your naked, bloody body up into a ball against the cold chill of the room. Your wedding dress was neatly hung up in the corner, Malgorm having been smart enough to get it out of the way before he went to work.

Your body stung with every cut from his blade. Most were shallow cuts that would heal in a day or so, but by the Mother there were so many of them. Your skin felt shredded, like a ruined canvas suffering the wrath of an angry artist. Malgorm had delighted in slicing his blade across your skin, avoiding your hands and face – the only parts of your body that would be visible in the wedding. You could still feel his wet mouth and tongue sliding over the wounds like a venomous snake, the sensation making you want to rip your ruined skin from your body.

Luckily, the male had obeyed his fathers command and not tried to fuck you. He kept his hands away from your centre, seemingly content to ruin other acceptable parts of your body instead. No doubt he wanted everything down there perfect and intact for the wedding night.

A soft shadow grazed your fingertip. It curled up your arm like a ribbon, coming to your face. It seemed to whisper words you couldn’t understand, especially in your lifeless state. “Az…” You murmured, his familiar scent on the small shadow that seemed to inspect your body.

A few moments later, you felt a presence standing over you. “By the Mother…” Came Azriel’s shocked voice. “What did he do to you...”

The shadowsinger emerged from the darkness, leaning down to inspect the dozens of wounds littered across your skin. His hazel eyes were filled with horror as a scarred hand grazed a cut on your collarbone. You watched helplessly as his eyes trailed down to the significant pool of blood beside you that trickled from a deep wound in your stomach.

Right where the letter ‘M’ was carved below your belly button, a few inches above your core.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about your nakedness in front of the shadowsinger. Malgorm had already begun to strip you of your dignity anyways. But Azriel quickly grabbed the blanket from the end of your bed, gently wrapping it around your body and hoisting you upright. You winced in pain. “We have to stop meeting like this, shadowsinger.” You croaked. “With me being tortured and all.”

Azriel snorted. “Stop getting yourself into these situations then.”

“Couldn’t help it.” Your reply was weak, but earned a slight twitch of the spymaster’s lips, a hint of a smile. “How’d you find me?”

Shadows skirted over your skin, their gentle coolness soothing the sting of the wounds and making you sigh in relief. “I was meeting with Nesta and Eris,” He answered. “She could feel something was wrong… through the bond. Eris sent me to see what happened.”

You frowned. The shadowsinger never stumbled over his words in the entire time you had known him. He already knew Nesta was your mate, so his stutter made you ask, “Why’d you say it like that?”

“What do you mean?” Azriel’s expression gave nothing away, but you could tell something was bothering him.

“What, you don’t like that two females are mates? Is that it?”

The Illyrian departed to your washroom, fetching a damp cloth as he responded. “No, no, Mother above, no. I take no issue with that and you know it.”

“Then what is it?”

Azriel sighed, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead as he returned and knelt down beside you. He carefully pulled back the blanket, revealing the bloody ‘M’ on your stomach. He pressed the wet cloth to the wound, gently cleaning it. “Something happened,” His tone was cautious, as if he wasn’t sure how much to say. “Between Nesta and Eris. It’s changed things slightly. They’re still trying to figure out how to end the engagement between you and Melgorm but… it’s difficult.”

“How so?” You frowned, trying to sit up straighter only to get gently pushed back down by Azriel. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Gods, I really do not wish to be involved in this little love triangle.”

“Well too bad,” You snapped, ignoring the sting of your wounds and fixing him a glare. “Because you already are. So tell me.”

“I can’t decide if you’d be the worst interrogator in Prythian or the best.” Azriel grumbled, moving the cloth to begin wiping down the wounds on your left arm.

“Stop dodging the question.”

“It’s really something they should be the ones to tell you–”

“For fuck’s sake, if I have to march out of this room bloody and naked to find Nesta and Eris so help me I will actually do it.”

Azriel glared at you, snarling. “You’re fucking insufferable, you know that?”

You shrugged, tilting your head and waiting for him to tell you exactly what happened. The shadowsinger let out a sigh, and began cleaning your other arm as he spoke. “Remember how you said that Estelle mentioned Nesta had more than one mate, but Cassian was not one of them?”

You nodded.

“I guess that really is true, because a mating bond snapped for her the other day apparently. Between Nesta and Eris.”

Your jaw went slack. You couldn’t describe the emotions that rushed through you at Azriel’s words. It wasn’t the surge of mately jealousy you expected, nor was it anger per se. Sure, Nesta and Eris were a strong political match, but mates? The thought had never even crossed your mind. But it made sense, in some wicked way. Nesta and Eris had similar magic, and could both hold their own in a court of vipers. Perhaps they truly would make strong offspring, which you supposed was the main reason mates were created. Or so you had been told.

Azriel’s brow was furrowed at your silence. “You don’t seem surprised.”

You shrugged, trying to calm your racing mind. “Not entirely. Better it be Eris than someone potentially worse. It will work well in their favour, I suppose.”

The spymaster’s normally unreadable face was riddled with confusion. If you were not in pain, you’d have laughed at his expression. He shook his head, continuing to dab at the wounds on your chest as he spoke. “I do not understand,” Azriel continued. “When the bond snapped between Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and I could barely look at Feyre without him snarling at us. I may not have a mate, but I know mates are supposed to be utterly possessive of one another. Why are you not enraged that your mate has another bond?”

You sighed. Azriel would never truly understand – it was obvious that a mating bond was something he desired greatly. For Nesta to have not only one, but two mating bonds surely brought him discomfort. And truthfully, while you were certainly experiencing a whirlwind of emotions at the new information, none of them were associated with anger or jealousy.

Love comes in many forms and unexpected ways, your mother had once told you. Those words had stuck by you all these years, and growing up in Spring had exposed you to all different kinds of relationships. Males had courted males, females had courted females, and you had often heard stories of an individual having multiple courtings, all of which was done with nothing but love, devoid of possessiveness or jealousy.

“Nesta is someone who has not experienced nearly as much love as she should,” You began, meeting Azriel’s hazel gaze. “She is my mate, and nothing will ever change that. There is nothing she can do that will make me love her any less. But I don’t believe the amount of love an individual can receive should be restricted to one person. If Eris is her mate and can grow to love her, what kind of mate would I be to want it denied from her? Nesta deserves all the love that the world can offer her, and if that comes from both me and Eris then I do not see how that could be a bad thing.”

The Illyrian was quiet for a moment, his shadows swirling around his neck as if they, too, were deep in thought. “You make it sound so simple.” He said after a minute.

“Because it is. Nesta and Eris had a connection before the bond snapped into place. They are good for each other, and you know it. You just need to get past your one sided hatred for the male and see it.”

Anger sparked in Azriel’s face. “And what about Cassian?”

“What about him?”

“He loves Nesta. You claim that the Mother… Estelle… told you that Cassian was not one of Nesta’s mates. But there is something between them, both he and Nesta know it. He loves her.”

You curled your fingers into fists, nails biting the sweaty flesh of your palm. “Cassian is no concern of mine.” You snarled at the shadowsinger. “He is for Nesta to deal with. And he is not in love with her, he loves the idea of being with her. You aren’t a fool, Azriel. Every interaction they have turns into a battle, with Cassian making it his mission to push her buttons and disrespect her boundaries. Can you truly look me in the eye and tell me that they are a better match than Nesta and I? Or Nesta and Eris?”

He opened his mouth as if to instinctively defend his brother, but nothing came out. “Thought so.” You continued. “If Feyre and Rhys were not mates, you all would not be pushing for Nesta to be with Cassian as hard as you have. You act like she has to become worthy of his love, as if he is some perfect male. He’s 500 years old, quit making excuses for him and his shitty behaviour.”

Azriel put the blood soaked cloth down, gently pulling the blanket back over your shivering form to cover your body once again. You pitied the male slightly, guilt creeping in for the position he had gotten himself into. You knew Azriel had been loyal to Rhysand for five centuries, and it was clear that this was the first time he felt truly torn.

“If Cassian and Nesta are not mates, then why did Rhys make such a statement?” Azriel asked, turning his body so he sat beside you. A giant wing gently grazed your blanket covered shoulder, as if to provide some sort of comfort. “Does he truly believe they are mates, or was it a lie? I cannot think of why he would lie about something that big.”

“I can.” You snorted, earning an eye roll from Azriel.

“I will not deny my brother’s horrid actions,” He protested, voice edged with anger. “But he loves Cassian, and lying to him about the mating bond–”

“Would be a way to try and lure Nesta back to the Night Court.” You interrupted the shadowsinger. “A means to control her, and convince her to stay.”

Azriel shook his head, scarred hands fiddling with the hilt of his dagger. “You don’t understand. You know Nesta, but I know Cassian. He’s been acting like a male whose mate has been taken from him. His behaviour is erratic and unreasonable, more so than he has ever been. I cannot think of an explanation for that aside from a mating bond, (Y/N). Besides, he can feel her somehow. There’s something tying them together.”

“I believe the Mother more than your High Lord. If she says that Cassian is not Nesta’s mate, then I believe her.” Truthfully, Azriel’s confession about Cassian’s mood lately unsettled you, having lined up with Emerie and Gwyn’s note about the general being unhinged. You had to admit, they sounded like the actions of a distressed mated male. Azriel was right, something was tying them together. You just didn’t know what.

“Regardless, that bears little relevance to the situation currently.” The spymaster said, echoing your thoughts as he steered away from the uncomfortable topic. “You are set to be married to Malgorm by the end of next week. Nesta and Eris are to be wed soon after. Eris is coming up with a plan to stop your wedding, and I suspect killing his father as well. There is no chance that he will be able to defy Beron and end your engagement and get away with it. Beron has to be eliminated, it is the only way to ensure your safety.”

You felt ill. Killing Beron was something you hadn’t thought of as much in light of the problems of the foreseeable future. It only doubled the risk of everything, trying to execute two life-altering plans within such a short window. You didn’t even know if he and Nesta were ready to take on a High Lord. Sure, they were incredibly powerful fae, but Beron had centuries of experience on them. He was cruel, but not stupid.

Eris was risking his entire plan to become High Lord to ensure you weren’t made to marry his cruel younger brother.

Shadows wisped around your face, as if they could hear your thoughts. Beside you, Azriel remained stoic, but spoke softly. “Eris cares about you, too.”

“Sometimes I think I understand him, and other times I feel like I could not be more wrong.” You sighed, tightening your grip on the stained blanket. “He’s a male whose actions are driven by his own secret agenda. I understand how helping Nesta fits into it, but me? Helping me is a courtesy, a generous one even for him. I… I don’t understand why he’s risking so much for me, unless it’s all because Nesta is his mate too.”

“There might be more to Eris Vanserra than I could have ever imagined. Whether that is for better or for worse, I do not know. I will not lie, it makes me uneasy that your fate will be in his hands. But for some reason you have trusted him this far. Time will tell if that trust has been misplaced.”

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t. Perhaps it was because you shared a mate with him, a commonality that would keep you united no matter what. Or perhaps it was that foolish part of your brain that fancied the eldest Vanserra brother from a distance, who had teasingly called you his little fox on the rare occasion he ran into you with Lucien.

You shivered as another chilly gust of wind seeped into the room through the cracked window. It soothed your still stinging wounds beneath the blanket, but you wrapped the fabric even tighter around you. “Whatever Eris is planning, I hope it works.” You mumbled.

“Me too.” Azriel said dryly. “For all our sake.”

*********************

You tried to keep your breathing steady as you stood on the second step of the dias below Beron’s throne. Grand torches lined the red and gold carpet leading up to the throne, illuminating the tapestries lining each wooden wall.

It had been mid morning when the servants flooded your room, scrambling to get you ready for an appearance in court. When you frantically asked what the fuss was about, you were surprised when you received an answer.

“His Grace has received an unexpected visitor,” The oldest of the servants said in a hushed tone. “You and your betrothed are expected with the rest of the family to greet them.”

It had taken less than five minutes for your hair to be done and your dress to be fitted properly before a set of guards had escorted you to the throne room. Upon entering, you had snuck a glance at the other figures on the dias. Lirilla stood left beside the seated High Lord, her head bowed and hands clasped in front of her. Eris and Nesta were on Beron’s right, one step below. Both adorned royal outfits in similar shades of red, each wearing an almost identical mask of boredom. Nesta’s arm was linked through Eris’s as a formality, but you noticed how tense she was. Her breathing was shallow, as if being in such close proximity to Eris was too much. Luckily, it appeared to be something only you noticed. To everyone else, they appeared the stone-cold politically arranged couple they were meant to be.

You had tried to reach out to Nesta through the bond, but were met with a wall of stone. You tried not to let it sting as she shut you out, choosing to focus on keeping your expression neutral as you held onto Malgorm’s arm the same way Nesta was with Eris’s. It felt wrong, and every part of you wanted to recoil at his touch. Your skin still felt flayed from the events of last night, but as predicted the dress that Malgorm undoubtedly chose for you this morning covered up all evidence of his actions.

So you fought through the pain, ignoring the sneering looks of Beron’s other sons whose names you did not know. You were almost grateful when harsh words from the High Lord threatening punishment to his offspring put them in line.

The tension in the room was thick. You hadn’t dared try and look back towards Nesta and Eris, not with Beron breathing down your necks. It was only a few minutes after the Vanserra family had gotten in formation when the heavy doors to the throne room opened, and the High Lord of the Night Court strode in.

Your mouth went dry. Your mind flashed with images of that forsaken dungeon, the dark tendrils of the High Lord’s power carving through your skin like butter. Was he here to snatch you away? Piercing violet eyes landed on you as Rhysand approached the foot of the dias, swarming with a mixture of fury and confusion. Nevertheless, he bowed his head to Beron. “High Lord,” Rhys said smoothly. “You are looking well.”

You weren’t fooled by the feigned respect. Luckily, Beron wasn’t either, and you heard the male scoff. “Do not bother yourself with false pleasantries, we both know you don’t actually mean them.” Beron said coldly, his aged voice echoing through the throne room like the power of an ancient god. “Give me one reason why I should not execute you for entering my territory without permission.”

Rhys straightened his shoulders, cocking his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he met Beron’s words with a cool tone. “Last I checked, meetings of diplomacy were still favourable between two High Lords, were they not?”

“And yet you have no excuse for the uninvited part.”

“I fear my concerns were too urgent and important to notify you in advance.” Rhys’s voice was saccharine, a veil to disguise his true intentions. On a younger, more inexperienced High Lord, it may have worked. But once again, you found yourself strangely grateful for Beron Vanserra. The older male saw right through his words, and would not be afraid to challenge him.

“And what is so important you had to barge in on my court uninvited?” Beron growled, the flames from the torches along the carpet flaring slightly.

Rhysand’s face was smug, and he looked at you directly as he spoke. “You have in your midst a valuable asset of mine. I want her back.”

A cold pit formed in your stomach as you met his stare evenly, despite your bones trembling beneath his gaze. You were right – Rhys had come to spin some lie about you that was designed to make Beron hand you over to the Night Court. You were a fly trapped in a web, and your hand clenching nervously around Malgorm’s arm was not entirely for show.

“Do explain.” Was all the High Lord of Autumn said in a bored tone.

“The female standing at the bottom of the dias belongs to me. Your eldest son infiltrated my court and kidnapped her on the full moon. He is holding her here against her will in a pathetic attempt to hold leverage over me. I ask that you punish Eris Vanserra for his insubordination and return Lady (Y/N) to me, so I can bring her home where she belongs.”

Your blood ran cold. Rhys wasn’t just trying to get you back, but Nesta as well. He wanted to take down Eris in the process, which would force Beron to not only send you back to the Night Court, but Nesta too since the engagement would be broken off and she would have nothing tying her to Autumn. Panic began to stir inside you. This couldn’t be happening. You braced yourself for Beron’s wrath, demanding Eris be brought to the dungeons for immediate questioning.

But instead, the cruel male just laughed. A bitter, hoarse sound like a broken instrument. “That was a pathetic excuse of a story, even for you, Rhysand.” Beron said, making the Night Court Lord blink in surprise. “Not even well crafted. How dare you come into my court and attempt to manipulate me?”

You heard Beron rise in his throne, and the torches began to flare angrily as the High Lord’s temper rose. “I am no fool. I know that you are only here because you’re desperate from losing your spy that had valuable intel on you. A spy who fled your clutches seeking sanctuary with me because of what you did to her.”

“I did nothing.” Rhys said, which angered Beron even more.

“You lie again! I am well aware that the girl was trained as a spy against her will to repay her debt to you. You were an immature fool to trust a prisoner to spy for you, which is one of the many reasons your court is run so poorly. I saw the wounds you inflicted on her, boy, when she found out you planned to take the title of High King.”

Rhys’s expression revealed shock for a split second, the loss of composure making you laugh internally. You hadn’t expected Beron to defend you so vehemently, especially against another male. But you still clung to every breath nervously as he continued to speak.

“Have you not considered that this information she so eagerly gave you might be a ploy to get you to wage war on my court?” Rhysand said carefully.

“So you admit then that your story was false?” Beron had impressively backed Rhys into a corner, catching him in his lie. “That she was indeed your spy turned rogue?”

Rhys had the nerve to shrug. “All that matters is that she is a member of my court, and I demand you release her to me.” He kept his tone neutral, but you could feel the desperation coming off of him in waves.

“My daughter is no longer a member of your court.”

Rhysand’s face blanched visibly at Beron’s words. He went utterly still, even the pulsing aura of power that always seemed to be around him quieting. His violet eyes found you again, but you kept your chin high. He glanced down at your arm entwined with Malgorm’s, who was no doubt smirking proudly at Rhys. It was strange, hearing Beron refer to you as his daughter.

“What?” The High Lord of the Night Court said quietly.

“As a reward for her bravery in fleeing your grasp, and for the useful information she so willingly provided us with, I have given her the honour of marrying my son Malgorm. She is my daughter now, and you will not take her from me.”

You felt an invisible hot flame on your arm, undoubtedly the power of the High Lord. It beckoned you, pulling you towards the throne where he had seated himself once again. Malgorm had seemingly felt it too, for he guided you up the steps to where Beron sat. You looked into the eyes of the High Lord for the first time. His hair was slicked back identical to Malgorm’s, but faded to an ashy grey in contrast to his son’s fiery red. His sharp face took you in, amber eyes glowing like a snake in the dark. He extended a hand towards you, fingers clad in rings more expensive than everything your village in Spring had owned put together. You smiled as you took it, ensuring you looked grateful. To further paint the image of Beron’s new daughter, you lowered your head and gently kissed his aged hand as a sign of respect for your father-in-law.

Beron looked at you proudly, pulling you closer so you were standing right next to him. His hand was clammy and his grip was ironclad, but you showed no signs of resistance. Malgorm took up his post slightly behind you, an arm on the small of your back in a display of ownership.

Rhysand’s mask had slipped entirely as you stared defiantly down at him, disgust and shock written all over his features. He had not even given Nesta and Eris a second glance, his fury towards you overriding his diplomatic practices. But you did not feel frightened, not with Nesta, Eris, and especially Beron in the same room.

Nothing would happen to you. Beron would protect you for his own selfish reasons, but it was reassuring nonetheless.

“My eldest son did not kidnap the girl.” Beron said coldly, his grip on your hand never faltering. “The day you claim it happened, Eris was assigned to meetings with my courtiers from sunup to sundown, all of whom can act as witness.”

You pushed down your confusion – Eris was most definitely not in meetings that day, and how he had managed to pull this alibi off was something you would have to ask him about later.

Beron continued, authority strong in his voice. “She came to me willingly, and I have welcomed her with open arms. I know who she is – a girl from the Spring Court whom you rescued then used as a pawn in one of your little games, only for her to outsmart you in the end. Never again will my daughter fall into suffering under your hands, Rhysand. If you try to do anything to harm her or remove her from my territory, I will burn your entire court to the ground. Just as I will do if you ever think of claiming the title of High King of Prythian.”

Beron spat the title out, his power filling the room. “You are an immature boy playing games you don’t understand,” He continued dangerously. “And any attempt at seizing lordship over this land will be met with the slaughter of everything you hold dear. I will erase your name from the history books, and there will be nobody left to remember Amarantha’s Whore. And if you think any of the other High Lords would bow down to you, your arrogance is even more stupid than I thought. Now get out of my court, half-breed. And do not return.”

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no1tolerateitfan · 5 months ago

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got lovestruck went straight to my head...

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welcome to my girlblog!

colette , fifteen (taylor's version) , january capricorn , she/her , american-french-spanish , tennis , soccer , estj , pinterest girlie , city girl , cabin 10 , ravenclaw , thought daughter , hector forts wife actually

im a girl who loves...

pasta , shoes , fancy dresses , swans , jane austen , fashion , affirmations , grwms , hector fort , fruit salads , history , rome , mason thames , christmas , picnics , brandy melville , spain , navy blue , pink , snow , music , reading , winter , ivy leagues , fc barcelona , evermore , romcoms , coffee , emma chamberlain , models , concerts , any march , period films , the idea of motherhood , adam brody , traveling , brunettes , vogue magazine , nyt games , staying in , autumn , birthday parties , rhode , my family , the sturniolo triplets , france , doing my hair , learning new words , making new friends , nara smith , daydreaming , piercings , my boyfriend , being on dnd , shopping , matcha , setting goals , vanilla everything , summer roberts , real estate , concerts , stuffed animals , girlbloggers , healthy lifestyle , makeup , flowers , animals , halloween , starbucks , early mornings , subdued<3

fangirl favorites

spotify deep dive;

gracie abrams , taylor swift , olivia rodrigo , sabrina carpenter , chappell roan , madison beer , lana del rey , clairo , billie eilish , lizzy mcalpine , noah kahan , maisie peters , laufey , role model , phoebe bridgers , harry styles , reneé rapp , mitski , tate mcrae , cas , paramore , boygenius , beabadoobee , niall horan , conan gray , billy joel , the neighbourhood , fleetwood mac , ethel cain , marley brown , arctic monkeys , abba , the cranberries , alessi rose , mazzy star , zach bryan , chris stapleton , ariana grande , avril lavigne , mckenna grace<3

film files;

little women , la la land , the princess diaries , lady bird , 10 things i hate about you , 13 going on 30 , pretty woman , 27 dresses , the devil wears prada , scream , when harry met sally , call me by your name , 500 days of summer , how to lose a guy in 10 days , notting hill , runaway bride , clueless , priscilla , a rainy day in new york , midnight in paris , corpse bride , the perks of being a wallflower , black swan , dead poets society , harry potter , narnia , enola holmes , beautiful boy , pride and prejudice , the notebook , the proposal , mamma mia , dirty dancing , grease , the parent trap , white chicks , ella enchanted , sixteen candles , she's the man , miss congeniality , my girl , the virgin suicides , the edge of seventeen , the amazing spiderman , mean girls , legally blonde , thirteen , breakfast at tiffany's , girl, interrupted , twilight , uptown girls , star wars , heathers , old disney<3

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please please please reach out to me if we have the same interests , need to chat , or wanna be moots, i love meeting new ppl and being able to interact with you guys. my sideblog is @vani11alattes , if you wanna check it out! xoxo💗

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#this is a girlblog #fangirl

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litnerdwrites · 5 months ago

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I was out all day yesterday, so I couldn't upload it then, so here it is now. Day seven, extended version. I do have plans to make this a series, and once I have all three series planned out, I'll be sure to ask who's you want to see first. Be sure to look out for more Euphemia content until then too. On a side note, did anyone see Kerri's stories, where she was scrolling through the first few pages of Throne of Secrets. We got a glimpse at the first couple of pages and honestly, ever teaser just makes me more impatient to read it.

This is probably my favourite piece, and the longest that I've written. Even though it's extended, there's so much more that I wanted to add, that I'll probably put into the series. I really loved writing Lust, and trying to balance gentle, romantic side with his lustful, jovial one. Although, I don't think there was much room for the latter here but I'll be sure to give it ago in the series. What are some of your favourite Lust moments from the trilogy? Let me know! @princeofsinweek

Day 7: Lust/Lover

Speak Now - Lust x OC

WC:4,077

TW: Almost forced marriage, abuse (father striking his daughter, plus forced fiancé hurting bride), mentioned death of a parent, mentioned canon typical violence.

Amara was stone faced as her ladies maids tittered around her, tugging, tucking and tidying up her hair in preparation. They had tried to make smalltalk at first, but when she didn’t respond, they quickly gave up.

She wanted to grimace at her reflection. She wanted to tear the pins and veil from her hair. She wanted to smear the makeup from her face, even if she had to break a few nails and tear her skin to do it. She wanted to rip the silk and lace from her body, and throw it to the pigs.

She wanted to run.

But she couldn’t.

All because she had nowhere to go. Noone to turn to.

The gown itself was classic. An a-line gown made of silk, with a sweetheart neckline, and thick lace sleeves. The ivy patterned lace reached right to where her neck met her head, and somehow managed to irritate her skin. Yet, despite her growing discomfort, she remained like a statue, even as the maids began wondering if she even lived or not.

“You will wed the Prince, and you will finally make yourself useful to me,”

Even as it echoed in her own mind, her father’s voice remained harsh, arguably colder than even the northernmost flaming tombs. It became his usual attitude after her mother had been killed by who Amara now knew was the Goddess of Death in an act of vengeance. The father she knew and loved lasted until the funeral, but once people began moving on with their lives, things began to change. Gone was the gentle, doting father she knew, and in his place was a shell of a man who only sought power and fame.

Even at the expense of his own daughter.

Part of her, thinking back to that night, when she felt as though things had turned around for her.

Growing sick of the scent of alcohol and sex in her home, she’d wandered to one of the many cliff sides in Palermo.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, eyes locked on the crashing waves below, but not really looking at them.

It would be so easy to just… Push herself forward, and let herself fall. So, so easy.

But, before she could properly contemplate the idea, he was pulled from her thoughts by the distant sound of music. As if in a trance, she made her way down the side of the cliff wondering if it was the cold, or anticipation that had her limbs trembling. What she hadn’t expected was to find a bonfire, and a single male dancing on the beach.

The sculptures that nobles commissioned from renowned artisans to line their overly elaborate halls must’ve been inspired by the man. His skin was gold, and hair dark. His charcoal eyes seemed to glow under the light of a flaming circlet that wrapped around his head. Yet, somehow, she got the impression that if she met his gaze, she’d feel like she was trapped in a darkened abys

se of desire.

“If you like what you see, then why not join?” The male’s voice jolted her from her thoughts.

He had been across the beach a moment ago, but now he stood right in front of her. Too close. His face was too close, as he bent at the waist to examine her. It was only then, when she felt that flaming circlet flicker against her forehead that she realized how… Wrong- no. Not wrong. How… Strange it was.

“Doesn’t your head get hot during the summer?” she had blurted out, before slapping a hand over her mouth.

The man’s eyes widened, and he had jerked back, clearly surprised by the question. He observed her, eyes narrowing somewhat, before leaning back, letting his lips spread into a grin.

“There are no summers where I’m from,” he shrugged. She blinked up at him, hands still pressed to her mouth, but eyes wide and curious. He seemed so jovial when she first saw him, then he looked like he could see all of her secrets laid bare, before going back to seeming like he was having fun. “Should you not be more concerned by this?” he cocked his head to the side.

Amara dropped her hands from her mouth, and blinked up at him again. After a few moments under his expectant gaze, she raised a brow, and rocked on the soles of her feet, answering with a shrug. “No. My mother was a witch,”

Lust’s brows shot up.

“You seem remarkably comfortable sharing that, when all it would take is the wrong person overhearing for you to be condemned,”

“You aren’t exactly human either, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she pointed out, “I know enough about malvagi to know that if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Clearly, you don’t. Not as of yet, anyway,”

Lust’s brows shot up again, as he circled her.

Amara held her chin high, eyes tracking the male.

Silence stretched on for what felt like hours, though was likely only minutes.

“Do you know who I am, Stella Stregah?” he finally asked.

“A Malvagi,” she stated, matter of factly, before looking behind him, “Why are you having a bonfire all alone?”

“Would you care to join me?” was the only response he gave.

“Will you attempt to use your powers on me?” she asked.

“Dance with me, and perhaps you’ll find out,” the demon bowed at the waist, offering his hand to her.

Amara eyed him skeptically, but shrugged and accepted.

Music filled her ear again, though there was no discernible source, as the demon guided her through the steps. Amara let him. She followed his lead, though never once made eye contact with the demon.

“Which one are you?”

“I am the Prince of Lust,”

She narrowed her eyes on him. Taking a moment to examine herself, and thinking over their interactions thus far. It didn’t seem like he used his powers on her.

“Why haven’t you tried to influence me with your sin, yet?”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” Lust huffs.

“What?”

“Our powers can only inflate emotions that are already present. When I reached out to inflate yours, I sensed no emotion to inflate. Either you truly feel nothing, or they’re so deeply buried that even I can’t find them,”

“I…See,”

“Is that why you considered jumping from the cliff, Stella Stregah?”

Lust raised a brow, examining the way her face scrunched.

“That’s not your concern, Malvagi.” Amara snapped, moving to pull away.

He chuckled, yanking her into a spin, before she could, then caught her, and pushed her into a dip, hand cupping the thigh of her raised leg. His face was mear inches from hers.

“No need to be so wrathful, little witch. Let go of your troubles for a night. Release those pent up feelings and give in to your desires,”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she told him, point blank.

“I never said you should. Not unless those are your desires,” Lust shrugged, not rising from the dip, letting his hand trail down her leg, “Dance. Drink,” she glanced behind him to see a table of drinks and food she hadn’t noticed before, and on the other side, comfortable looking chairs were laid out around the bonfire, “Rest. Talk. Sing. Give into whatever brings your pleasure,”

“You mean to feed your sin,”

“Perhaps. But can you deny that giving in to pleasure, forgetting what ails you, even for a single night, would be bad?”

It wouldn’t. She knew it wouldn’t.

“Surely you have plenty of people available to feed your sin,”

“Yet I crave you,”

Amara’s eyes narrowed.

“If I give into pleasure, you won’t use your sin on me?”

“Not unless you ask, little witch,”

“Then it’s a deal. Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight.”

It hadn’t been just for a night.

She had returned two nights later, and made the same deal again, swearing it was the last time. Then again. And again. And again. And again.

Eventually, she gave into more and more of her desires, spending more than a couple of those nights with him making love on the beach, or in a cave. One time, he’d even appeared in her bedroom while her father was out drinking. Lust had wrinkled his nose when he appeared, be it at the sorry state of the place she lived in, or the clear evidence of her father’s vices, despite his own position, she couldn’t tell.

Eventually, she’d found herself coming to enjoy the jovial prince’s company. Perhaps it was unwise to do so, given what she knew of the malvagi, yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Even as she began to desire more than just his body. Instead, she longed for tender nights where he held her by the fire after a particularly vigorous session of love making in a cave.

Foolishly, she longed for the scowl he gave at her proposal to roast marshmallows over his flaming crown, before reluctantly agreeing if only she never shared it with her brothers, only to watch her oh, so tenderly as she made s’mores for them. Above all, she longed for the high she felt in his presence, which she recently learned wasn’t due to his sin, but rather her own feelings, and delusions.

That was all it was. Delusions.

Princes of Hell are content to rule alone, with no desire to share their power with anyone.

Now, at least she had her memories to hold onto as she got married. Then, when Prince Zarus would transform her into one of his own at the reception, right before injecting her with his venom, she’d likely lose all senses, or memories of her Prince. Perhaps that would be the mercy. To forget all of it, and be lost in the oblivion for the rest of eternity.

A sharp knock snaps her from her thoughts. In the mirror, she watched the lady’s maids quickly shuffle out, but glanced away at her father’s entry. She refused to even look at him.

He, obviously, noticed this too, but for once, did not strike her. Instead, he examined her.

“You don’t look like a whore, for once,” he comments. Amara said nothing. “Don’t look so sullen when you walk down the aisle. You are to wed royalty, and if you wish for comfort in your new life, do not let the prince tire of you.”

“Don’t pretend this is for me,” she whispers, “All this is so you can gain wealth, power and immortality. You care nothing for how I feel about the matter.” Tears well in her eyes as she gazes at her reflection, feeling like an imposter.

Her father approached, ignoring her flinch as he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning beside her head to watch her in the mirror.

She refused to meet his gaze.

“Nonsense. You’re the precious,” his hands squeezed uncomfortably tight, voice strained, “daughter that my wife left behind before she died. I am merely doing what is best, so that you might live a life of comfort,”

Amara wanted to retort. To hurl insults and decor at him, but knew the guards would happily inject her before the wedding started, upon their Prince’s orders, and drag her down the aisle in that state of euphoria if that’s what it took. She didn’t want that. She wanted to put it off as long as she could. Yet, she also wanted to be rid of her father.

Mercifully, another knock at the door dragged her father away with one, final, painful squeeze of her shoulders.

She barely noticed the newcomer enter after her father, the woman draped in silver, emanating a familiar sensuality. Amara’s eyes snapped to hers as she pressed a finger to her lips. A slip of paper drops in front of her, before she uses transvenio to make her escape.

Eyes wide, Amara reaches for the paper, slowly unfolding it.

My dearest Amara, You don’t have to say yes. Meet at the back door and I can take you away from here, somewhere you’d be happy. I’d give absolutely anything for that, so I ask that if you wish to escape this, then come find me. I’ll be there until the reception ends. Forever yours, Prince Lust.

The message burst into flames, leaving behind a slip of paper with a map drawn on it. It appeared to lead from her room to the place he was waiting. The only issue were the guards outside her room. With furrowed brows, she shoved the paper into her pocket, hoping she’d have a chance on the way to the altar.

Finally, when her father came to collect her, she walked to the end of the hall.

“Father. I- I forgot my necklace! Could you go back and get it?”

“Just leave it, before we’re late,” he assures, with thinly veiled irritation and faux kindness.

“But it was a gift from the Prince. He’d be terribly angry if I don’t,” she tried.

Her father raised a brow, but nodded to the guards, who turned back. She and her father had watched them head back up the hall, to her room, before she turned on her heel, reaching for the paper. She’d made it halfway up the hall before a firm grip pulled her back.

“Where do you think you’re-” he noticed the paper. His eyes slid over the map, narrowing on it. Before she knew what was happening, a sharp sting was felt across her face, strong enough to send her to the ground, “You whore! You think you can escape this? You think you can embarrass me?!”

She shrank under his ire, more tears welling in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry-”

He yanked her up by the arm.

“No. But you will be. Just you wait until the reception is over,” he hissed, “Now compose yourself,”

She did her best as they stood in the hallway, certain that the guards heard everything. A put of dread opened up in her stomach and minutes ticked by far too slowly, yet far too quickly at the same time. Each second was like a step towards the gallows.

She barely processed the guard’s return or her father clasping the necklace around her. She didn’t bother to hide her stiffness, or heartbreak, even as her father snapped at her to smile. As far as she was concerned, this was as good as walking to the executioner’s block.

The doors to the throne room opened, revealing the altar, where the immortal throne, where Zarus, sat at the end of an aisle laid with red and black petals.

Amara didn’t care much what plant they were from, only that it felt like a mocking reminder that the path to her future was scattered with more and more burdens to laden her shoulders.

She didn’t notice when she got to the altar.

She didn’t acknowledge the priest, or her fiance.

She stood in stony silence, with the eyes of bloodsucking monsters pinned to her.

The lines she dreaded most were coming.

She hardly felt like she could breath, much less speak.

She wanted to run.

She had to run.

She needed to run.

Run.

Ru-

“Do you, Amara Willows, take Prince Zarus to be your Prince and your husband, and to serve him and his court, for the rest of eternity?”

Her throat dried up.

She couldn’t speak.

“Amara?” a distant voice called.

She couldn't discern who.

She could feel her father’s harsh glare on her, and the Prince’s hand tightening on hers.

“Amare Willows, do you take-”

She couldn’t take it. She ran. Amara practically jumped off the altar, gown bunched in her hands, as she raced for the doors. There was yelling, and she felt pain in her foot as she stumbled, shoe falling off in the process, but she refused to acknowledge the pain as she made for the doors. It only really sunk in as two guards caught her arms in a bruising grip.

“Let me-”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask those with objections to ‘speak now’ or some bullshit?”

Amara’s head snapped towards the door at the familiar voice. Charcoal eyes met her own, and the flames that circled his head flickered somewhat brighter. As per usual, he wore an embroidered suit jacket and pants, foregoing the shirt.

It was him.

He was here.

Her prince was here.

“There is none in this court who would dare object to their Prince’s union,” scowled Zarus.

“Luckily I’m not part of this court then,” Lust grins, ever the jovial one, “So allow me to say with all sincerity in my non-existent heart,” he mocked, only, there was something different. His eyes had an intensity about them that she’d never seen before, “that I object,”

“Lu-” she tried to reach out, only for Zarus to appear in front of her.

The guards back off when Zarus grabs her wrist.

“On what grounds? You have no right to interfere in our affairs,”

“I do when you take a member of my court,”

“My daughter has never been a member of your vile court!” Her father interrupted, his face going red, from embarrassment or rage, she couldn’t tell.

“You see, that’s where you're wrong,” Lust starts, as he begins his way up the aisle, “She and I had made a deal, that involved her allowing me to fuel my sin through her several times a week. Marrying you would prevent her from holding up her end of the bargain,”

Her eyes widened as she recalled the deal she made, time and time again.

“Each corner of The Underworld has its own set of laws. Human law, the law of the Shifting Isles, dictates that a woman may not enter such agreements without her father or husband’s consent, deferring only to their female line in the absence of a male relative,” her father snapped.

“Yes, however, each law can be overturned by The King,”

“Not without valid reason to-”

“And there is,” a new voice called.

The man who just entered is burly, with dark hair, tied back with leather, and upswept, dark eyes. A scar is carved through his right cheek, a silver gleam against his darker features, and fine black suite. Despite how bored the man seems, the way his hand remains in reach of what appears to be a dagger’s sheath makes it clear that he’s been assessing everything with a warrior’s eye. He came prepared for violence.

Lust told her about him before. Anir. The King’s second.

“Consent is the most important aspect of courtship and marriage. Yet your bride doesn’t appear to want to be here at all,” Lust muses.

“What nonsense-” her father snapped, but was cut off by a withering glare from Anir.

“The King has asked me to confirm this. If it is true, then he’s willing to recognise House Lust’s claim of the woman, and has ordered me to leave behind a declaration of war as a result,” Anir holds an envelope between two fingers.

“This is ridiculous-” her father attempted again, only to be cut off again.

“Of course my bride wishes to be here,” Zarus turns from Anir to Amara, grip tightening painfully on her wrist, “don’t you?”

Amara winces, unable to speak from the strength with which he was holding her. Anir examined her, waiting, but the pain in her wrist became too much. She was sure he was crushing the bone, even before she heard a snapping sound coming from there. She wanted to cry out, only for the pressure on her wrist to vanish in a moment.

That was the moment the petals scattered on the aisle started coming closer. It was as if she was falling.

It wasn’t until warm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her to a warm chest, that she saw Lust kneeling beside her. Through her gaze, though blurred with unshed tears, she noticed a female demon, the one from before, gripping the Prince’s hand almost as tightly as he did her’s. Tighter perhaps.

A warm hand gently guided her face away from the sight, so that she might meet the gaze of her prince instead.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t make it,” she whispered, thinking to her failed attempt at escape,”

“It’s okay, little witch. I’m here now,” Lust whispers, cradling your body.

You turn to see the man, Anir, approaching too. His gaze is calculating as he observes you, likely trying to figure out what to report to his prince.

“What’s important now is that you’re honest,” he tells you sternly, though not unkindly, “If you don’t wish to marry Zarus, speak now, Miss Willows,”

Her heart races at his words, at the opportunity to escape. She wants to reach for it, to grasp it but-

“But where will I go?” she asks weakly.

Lust, who was cradling her wounded wrist in his hand, smiled gently at her. Like he had many times before.

“You’ll come with me,” he whispered.

“But why? You have so many demons to feed your sin, so why-”

“Because I want you,” he reminds her, “I’ll tell you as many times as you need. I want you. Not anybody else,” he leans down to your ear, “Come back with me, to House Lust. Join my court officially. Be mine. Let me make you my princess, and then be mine. Mine for eternity,”

“Lust-”

“Hush. Let me finish,” he waits for you to nod before speaking, “In return, I’ll give you all the comfort and pleasure you want. I won’t have dalliances with anyone else. I won’t look at anyone else. Nobody but you. I’ll give you whatever your heart desires, if you just say ‘yes’”

He’s practically begging, in front of the entire vampire court, and his brother’s second, no less.

You don’t bother to contain your tears as you lean up, wrapping your good arm around him.

“Miss Willows-” Anir begins.

“Amara, I forbid-”

“Yes,” she manages to get out through her sobs, not breaking your gaze from Lust’s, “I want to go to House Lust. I want to leave this place,”

Anir nods, beginning to address the room again, but you pay it no mind. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Lust’s shoulders, mindful of the injured wrist, and buried your face there. The demon from earlier tried to console her, only for Lust to wave her away. He could feel her emotions. The fear, and heartache for her situation, all overshadowed by relife, joy, and desire for her freedom, for Lust. He felt no need to inflate it, instead, he gently encouraged her to let it out however she needed.

It was only when Lust deposited her on a bed covered in deep plum silks, and overly stuffed pillows.

“Care for a bath?” he asked.

“As long as it stays one. I’m far too tired to do anything right now,” she murmured to him.

Lust chuckled, but agreed, as he helped her from, what he called, an inordinate amount of fabric, as she giggled and reminded him that it was only two layers.

“Two layers too many,” he huffed, before tearing the dress from her body and depositing her in the bat.

While she soaked, Lust gently wiped the makeup from her face, before pressing a kiss to her temple. He brought some ointment and bandages for her wrist, silently wrapping it, before carrying her back to bed.

“If you don’t wish to sleep bare, I could have some night clothes brought,” he gently offered, as he helped her dry off.

Amara shook her head.

“I’ve slept beside you, naked, in caves, and on sand. I think I’ll be fine to do so while wrapped in the most comfortable silks I’ve ever seen,” she assured.

Lust smiled, nodding, before reaching for something from the bedside.

“I only wish for your comfort, little witch, before I make good on one of my promises,”

Amara blushed at the reminder.

“You don’t-”

He ignored her as he took a ring in one hand, hew good wrist in the other.

“I want to. Let me make you my princess. My fiance. My only lover,”

She stared at him, noting sincerity in his dark eyes. Amara nodded.

“Then, from now until eternity, be mine, Lust,”

Lust slid the ring to her finger, then pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Mine,” he nipped at her.

She giggled, and nipped back.

“Mine,”

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its-vannah · 2 years ago

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How Can I Love Again? | Prologue | Eddie Roundtree x Reader

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’ve just been so busy that by the time the ideas start forming in my head, I’m passed out from exhaustion. Regardless, here’s a ten part series to make up for it. Well, probably ten parts. I have most of it planned out (in my head), so we’ll see how it goes from there. I hope you guys all enjoy, and as always, feel free to leave a request!

Warnings: Profanities, crying, allusions to sex, break up

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Taglist: @celestialstar111 @stokzr @scenesofobx

You had never been a fan of the tabloids—the endless gossip and chatter about who slept with who and how much weight so and so had gained. Half of the time, it wasn’t true. And the other half was just plain hurtful. These celebrities had a lives, too—star studded lives filled with private jets and millions of dollars to waste—but lives nonetheless. They deserved privacy, and selfishly, you deserved to be able to go somewhere without seeing your ex-fiancé on the cover of said tabloids.

Waiting in line at Hazelwood Coffee, your sister, Leah, stepped in front of the magazine rack in a failed attempt to spare your feelings, “So, Y/N, you going to go with iced or hot today?”

Although you appreciated her attempt to protect you from the countless photos of Eddie getting handsy with girls on tour, it didn’t take long for your brother-in-law to audibly gasp at the magazine, “He did what?”

Leah glared back at him, rolling her eyes. They had started dating after you and Eddie split, so he hadn’t been around for the countless nights you spent crying into her arms on your mother’s couch. No, he had grown to love The Dunne Brothers, reminding everyone that he had, in fact, gone to hear them play at a bar in town center one night a few years back. Despite his knowledge of your past with him, nothing could cover up the shock on his face whenever he saw their faces on the front cover of The Scoop or whatever tacky magazine he stumbled across.

Despite your efforts to act like you didn’t care about where he was in his life, Leah saw right through you, reassuring you that it was okay to be hurt. You were supposed to be right there with him, backstage as he played in some of the greatest concert venues in the world. But you weren’t, because three years ago, Eddie Roundtree had left you at the alter.

————————————————————————————————————————

3 Years Ago

It was a warm day in June, the perfect amount of clouds in the sky but not enough to block the sun from beaming down on you. Everything was perfect. You were getting married to the love of your life and, to you, nothing could possibly go wrong. But your idea of perfection would come to bite you in the ass when you heard a knock on the door.

Leah looked up from doing your makeup, “You stay here, I don’t want you messing up your hair or brows.”

You smiled up at her, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You had never felt more beautiful.

When you noticed how long Leah had been gone for, you tuned into the conversation she was having at the door, “Eddie, it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I really need to see her, Leah. It’s important.”

“Eddie, don’t start this marriage off on the wrong foot. I’m telling you, it’s bad luck,” She groaned, “Can’t you just wait to screw her until after the ceremony?”

You whipped your head around, “Leah!”

She glanced back at you apologetically, “It’s Eddie. He wants to know if he can come in.”

“Right now? I’m not done getting ready, but he can take a seat while you finish.”

Eddie pushed the door open a bit more, “I need a minute with you—alone.”

Leah raised a brow, looking between the two of you, “Hear that? Alone. Can’t blame a girl for wondering, can you?”

“Out, Leah,” You said, shaking your head, unable to contain your amusement.

She stepped out of the room, letting her soon to be brother-in-law squeeze past her. He shut the door behind him, twisting the lock. It was at this moment that you realized he wasn’t in his suit yet. He was still wearing his bell bottoms and turtleneck.

You swiveled around in your seat, “You’re not dressed yet? The weddings in an hour, Eds.”

He nodded his head, sitting down on an ottoman across from you, trying to think of the words to say.

Watching him struggle in silence, you rose from your seat and moved to sit across his lap, “Everything alright?”

His heartbeat starting picking up as you ran your hands through his hair, undoing the tangles, “You know you can tell me anything right? Including why you aren’t dressed yet.”

You watched as he swallowed hard, pursing his lips, “I’m leaving today.”

Letting out a breathy, confused laugh, you tilt your head, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead to check him for a temperature, “I know, honey. That’s kind of how honeymoons work. Are you feeling alright?”

“We’re not going on a honeymoon.”

“What? Why? We’ve been planning it for months.”

Eddie took a deep breath, “Because we’re not getting married.”

You felt your heart break in an instant, confusion spreading across your face. Enveloping his head in your hands, you shook your head, “What are you talking about?”

He didn’t meet your eyes, instead he just bowed his head.

Sliding off his lap, you took a step back, crossing your arms. You went through a list of reasons as to why this was happening in your head, pacing the room before turning back to him, “You’re a fucking dick if you think this is funny. I love you, Eddie, but doing this on our wedding day is a sick joke.”

He winced before looking up at you, “I’m not laughing. It’s not a joke.”

Tears starting falling down your face and your chest heaved, your voice cracking as you asked the one question he didn’t want to answer, “Why?”

“Honey…”

You shook your head, “Don’t call me that. Don’t you fucking call me that. Is there someone else? Someone who you love enough to run away with on our wedding day?”

“Y/N, it’s not like that, I promise.”

Shaking your head, you narrowed your eyes, “Well you seem to make a lot of promises you can’t keep.”

“The band is moving out to LA, Y/N.”

“So? I’ll go with you.”

He shook his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. You have school.”

“I’ll graduate in two years, Eddie. I can just transfer to a school out there.”

“No, you worked hard to get where you are—and your family is here.”

You took a step towards him, “I can still see them on trips. It’s not like I’ll be gone forever. Besides, you have family here, too.”

“I just have Gran. It’s not like I’m leaving an entire family behind.”

“You’re leaving me behind.”

He bowed his head, “Y/N…”

“Well, it’s true.”

“I’m doing you a favor.”

“No, you’re taking the easy way out.”

A knock on the door stopped him from responding, but you hastily called out, “Hold on!”

“Don’t give up on me, Eddie—on us.”

“We’ll be living paycheck to paycheck, all crammed in a four bedroom apartment. I can’t support you like that.”

You sighed, “Then I’ll get a job, pull some weight. It’ll be enough to float us.”

“No, you have too much to focus on with college—I don’t want you to have to worry about making ends meet.”

That’s when you broke, desperate for him to change his mind, “Please, Eddie. If you change your mind and marry me right now, I’ll pretend none of this ever happened. I’ll forget about it—you’ll never hear a peep from me. I love you, baby. I’ll go anywhere with you—I’ll finish school out here and follow you out there when I’m done. Just please, please marry me.”

“I’ll always love you, Y/N. But if I can’t give you the life you deserve, I don’t deserve to be in your life.”

It was routine for him to kiss you whenever he left, whether he was going in another room or off to an audition. This time was no different, except that the kiss he pressed to your cheek meant goodbye instead of see you soon.

Watching him walk out the door, you stood unable to move.

Leah shuffled back in, eyeing him as he walked down the hallway before closing the door, “Did you two have fun in here?”

Seeing your sister come into view, you fell to your knees, sobs racking through your body. She rushed over to you, cradling you in her arms as she had done the day your parents had bought you home from the hospital. Petting your hair as you cried into her chest, she squeezed you tightly.

“Oh, honey, what happened?”

“The wedding,” You choked, “Is off.”

Leah winced, holding you tighter to her as you cried.

Eddie had left you to make it big—and that was enough for you to crumple. How could you ever love again?

#eddie roundtree x reader #eddie #eddie loving x reader #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x you #eddie x reader #eddie roundtree x y/n #eddieroundtree #josh Whitehouse #Joshua whitehouse #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones & the six fanfiction #daisy jones & the six #djats #dj&ts #taylor jenkins reid #amazon prime

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tumbleweed-writes · 9 months ago

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Lilies and Thistles: Chibs Telford X OC Fic

This fic is at least a decade old, but I am starting up updating it again. I figured it can't hurt to share the first chapter here.

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Lily Unser managed to stumble out from the rain while keeping a tight grip on her leather camera cases. She knew that if she allowed the slick rain to trip her up and pull one of the cases from her grasp then she'd be screwed.

Cameras and photography equipment weren't cheap and she only had as much as she had thanks to the wonders of hunting for deals through online shopping and Black Friday sales.

She'd long ago developed the ability to maneuver through the rain without slipping. By now she had it all down to a fine art. It was a necessary skill when it came to living in a constantly rainy place like Seattle.

When she'd first moved from Charming California to Seattle Washington she had been looking forward to the rain and cold weather, but now she was missing the warmth of California and the small town atmosphere of Charming.

She guessed that old saying there's no place like home rang true.

Lily was spent just as she always seemed to be after a long afternoon and night of working weddings. Wedding Photography was a pain in the ass, but it paid generously.

It was a good job for her to have over her summer break from school. Doing wedding photography allowed her to fine tune her talents while keeping her rent paid and food in her fridge.

The pay almost wasn't worth the trouble though. Lily had reached her limit for the day of dealing with a highstrung bitchy bridezilla, a snooty mother in law and mother of the bride, drunken groomsmen, and a father in law who'd thought it was a great idea to pinch Lily's bottom.

It had been enough to make Lily wish that she could partake in the flowing open bar. A nice tropical Blue Hawaii or a fruity Mai Tai would have been the perfect drink to take the edge of the day and night right off.

She knew enough though to realize that most brides and grooms weren't too thrilled when their wedding photographer took a break to get tipsy off free booze.

Lily wanted nothing more than to get out of her black strappy high heels, slip out of her black cocktail dress, undo her long dark hair from it's twist, and collapse in her modest twin bed. She was too exhausted to even entertain the idea of grabbing a quick shower and washing the dark makeup from her face.

She knew that she would have to wake up bright and early tomorrow and make it to the darkroom at the art and photography academy she was attending, so she could develop all these photos she'd taken.

The bride and groom she'd worked for had insisted on going with the old fashioned traditional film route over the digital camera route.

It was a pain in the ass to develop the film, but at least it gave Lily some much needed quiet time.

The darkroom had always been Lily's sanctuary. She could go sit in it and put her mind to rest for a moment as she developed film.

She had always loved the process of seeing pictures develop from practically nothing. To Lily the entire process was the closest thing to magic she would ever witness.

She'd spent the past three years of her life attending the Art Institute in Seattle. She was studying Media Arts focusing primarily on Photography, and was loving every second of it.

She'd spent the first year and a half after high school attending a community college in Seattle studying Accounting. It had been her father's idea.

Sheriff Wayne Unser had wanted his daughter to have a good education in a secure field. Accounting had been the perfect career for Lily, or at least according to her father it had been perfect. She'd hated the program and had left a year into it. She'd switched her major a couple of times before leaving school for a little while as she attempted to figure out just what she wanted. She'd worked odd jobs around Seattle ignoring pleas to come home and give a local community college a shot.

Lily's true love laid in art and photography and she'd used this love to guide her future. Yes she was good with numbers, but her heart laid in taking pictures.

So she'd worked hard to get back into school, finish up her core courses, and had gone for her true love in an art program. Her dad hadn't had much room to argue over this decision. As a grown woman nearing her later twenties, her father had long ago had to accept that Lilian Unser was an adult

Lily had always been strong willed and the sheriff knew by now not to get in her way.

The only reason Lily had been able to get into the art institute was because she'd worked her ass off getting every scholarship and every bit of financial aid she could get her paws on. She'd worked hard and she knew that it was all worth it at the end of the day.

Lily knew for a fact that she didn't want to photograph weddings for the rest of her life. She'd only been doing it for a few months; freelancing, and she'd hated every second of it.

The money was what kept her coming back though. She was a struggling photography student with no family nearby, money was something she couldn't refuse.

What Lily wanted more than anything was to be an independent photographer. She wanted to work on her own terms. She wanted her own studio. She wanted to hang her works up in galleries where people would come near and far to view.

She wanted success. To her success meant no more bitch brides, no more drunken jerks pinching her bottom or asking her to dance, and no more being up on her feet in all too high heels while carting around a heavy camera.

Lily entered her dark studio apartment somehow managing to make it to the ringing phone sitting by her sofa, without tripping over any dirty laundry or shoes.

She did her best to hide her exhaustion as she spoke up. "Hello."

Lily widened her eyes stunned to hear her father's voice on the other end of the line. "Hey kid."

Wayne Unser and his daughter weren't the type to have long conversations over the phone. It didn't mean that they didn't care for one another. It was just that talking on the phone had never been their thing.

Long talks over the phone had always been Lily's godmother Gemma's thing. Gemma Teller Morrow spent just about every Wednesday calling Lily to check in on her.

Lily cleared her throat doing her best to hide her shock as she spoke. "How are you? Is everything okay with Della and the girls?"

She cringed a bit at her question. To be honest she couldn't care less about her step mother and her half sisters. Della had never taken to her step daughter and Lily had never taken to her.

Kate and Jade Unser were both a bit spoiled by their mother Della. Lily had always felt animosity for her 24 year old and sixteen year old half sisters.

When Lily was younger she'd tried hard to please Della, but it had become clear fast to Lily that Della and she were never going to get along. She'd tried hard to bond with her sisters but Della had always made a point of spoiling the girls while Lily was lucky if she got something other than hand-me-downs at the start of a new school year.

Lily knew it was cliché but she had always felt a bit like a fairy tale brought to life; a girl whose mother had run off leaving her with her father, an evil step mother and evil step sisters. It was all a bit too much like Cinderella when Lily really let herself think about it.

She shook her head a bit at the Cinderella thought. Life wasn't a fairy tale and she sure as hell wasn't Cinderella.

Lily knew that her step mom was just a bitch who held a grudge against Lily's mother. Lily knew that her step sisters were just rotten. And that this was all just life; life could sometimes be shitty.

There was no dashing prince charming coming to rescue her, and the closest thing she had to a fairy godmother was Gemma Teller Morrow.

She was pretty sure that the Grimm Brothers weren't picturing Gemma when they wrote about Cinderella's magical godmother.

She twisted her mouth a bit trying not to burst out laughing at the thought of badass biker queen Gemma being anyone's fairy godmother. She found herself easily picturing Gemma turning a pumpkin into a motorcycle.

Lily shook her head at the ridiculous thought leaving it all to it just being a long night stacked on top of sleep deprivation.

She turned her attention back to her father as he spoke. "They're okay...Kate's engaged and Jade is getting ready for her junior year of high school. Jadey made first chair with the cello. Della wants you to do Kate's engagement photos. The wedding is taking place this fall...and it's costing me an arm and a leg. I keep telling Katie that she has to leave some money in my savings account for when Jade ties the knot. At least I know I can count on you to stay on budget when you get married."

Lily let out a soft sigh not thrilled at the prospect of dealing with Kate getting married. She had a feeling that her half sister would put most of the bridezillas Lily had to deal with for work to shame.

She hated to think of how bad Della would be about this whole wedding thing.

"I tried to call you on your cell, but it went straight to voice mail." Unser pointed out lightly scolding his eldest daughter.

He worried about Lily being so far from home. If it had been up to him she would have gone to school in Oakland, but Lily had gotten scholarships to Seattle and he'd known that they'd be fools to turn down that opportunity.

Lily sat down on the arm of her old beaten up brown sofa as she reached down finally freeing her feet from those awful heels. "I turn it off when I'm working weddings...Most brides aren't too happy when Ace of Spades starts blaring out during their vows."

Unser laughed at this comment stopping to cough mid laugh. Lily frowned at the cough her intuition sparking at how horrible it sounded. Something was wrong with her dad; she could just sense it.

She spoke up almost not recognizing her voice. Lily found herself feeling more like a child than a twenty four year old woman. "Are you okay daddy?"

Unser took a deep breath his voice sounding so heavy as though he had the world sitting on his shoulders at that moment. "I have bad news sweetheart...It's my colon...fucking cancer. The doctors say it doesn't look good...I'm sick Lil. I need you."

And with that little statement Lily quickly realized that the life she'd known in Seattle was over.

Her dad needed her and she had to be there for him.

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

Sheriff Wayne Unser glanced across the arm rest onto the passengers seat of his old Ford Pickup truck, where his young daughter sat her arms crossed over her waist as she peered out the window.

Unser was surprised to find that his daughter had changed in her time away. Though she still looked younger than she really was it was clear that she'd grown into her features loosing a tiny bit of the baby-fat she'd held as a teenager.

Her long dark brown hair was pulled up into a high pony tail revealing a youthful pale face. Her big dark eyes were locked on the scenery as it passed them by.

The only things Lily had seemed to inherit from her dad were brown eyes and brown hair. The rest of her was all her mother, or at least Unser was sure it was her mother though some might argue her larger eyes had come from Unser.

Lily's mom had been a pretty young thing whom Unser had met at a bar. It had been a bad time in his life; his dad had just died and his relationship with Della had hit a rocky patch.

Vera had been her name, or at least that was what she'd told Wayne Unser. She'd been an attractive woman much like Lily, average height, a pear-shaped body, a sweet petite smile, an upturned little nose, and big doe eyes.

Unser shook his head still a little stunned at how much Lily had taken after the woman. His daughter had grown into a gorgeous young lady. In her time away it seemed she'd matured losing some of the baby fat she'd held at eighteen.

In a way Unser could admit he found it dismaying to realize she'd grown in her time away. It wasn't as though she'd taken many visits back home or at least her visits with him had seemed so short. She may have come home for the occasional Christmas, but her visits to Gemma Teller Morrow had always seemed to a little less brief than her visits with her father and his family.

Realizing that his oldest child truly was now an adult left Unser feeling a bittersweet sense of discomfort. In a way he had thought of her, in her absence, as the fresh faced eighteen year old who'd left California for Washington years before. She may be nearing 25 but he'd always see her as a child.

He cleared his throat trying his best to make small talk with Lily. "I have a futon in the office set up for you. Kate is staying in her old room while her fiance and her plan the wedding, and Jade is in hers...Della turned your old room into a craft room and she'd skin me alive if I touched anything in there...so the office is just going to have to cut it till I can get you set up with an apartment."

Lily turned to face her father giving him a sheepish smile trying to hide her irritation that Della had taken over her room the second she'd moved out. "That's okay dad...I talked to Gemma last night while I was packing up some final things, and she wants me to stay with Clay and her. They have the room for me so it's no trouble. I can stay in one of their guest rooms till we get me a place of my own. It'll work out...You won't have to sacrifice your office for me."

Unser nodded his head trying to hide the annoyance he felt over Gemma sticking her nose in to this, but he knew better than to be shocked. This was Gemma after all.

He should have known that Gemma would stick her nose into things the second he'd made her Lily's godmother.

He let out a sigh turning his eyes back to the road. He could admit that at times he felt as though he didn't understand a thing about his daughter.

It was his own fault. He knew this.

He'd been so tied up with work that he often hadn't taken the time to really connect with Lily. Della just made everything all the more complicated.

Della Unser resented Lily. She saw the young woman as a constant reminder that Wayne hadn't remained faithful during their rocky patch.

Della couldn't help but to feel bitter when she looked at her husband and his daughter. Della hated the fact that Lily had taken the place in Unser's heart as his first born child; his baby girl.

Unser frowned remembering the day Lily had been brought to his front stoop by her mother. The way Vera had shoved a crying Lily into his arms while a pregnant Della stared on.

Wayne shifted the crying infant in his arms feeling lost as how he could get her to calm down. He sighed when he stared down at her realizing that her little face was as pink as the onesie she was wearing.

The yelling hadn't helped the already fussy baby's temperament. The little girl had already been screeching when she'd been shoved into his arms but Della's screams had only made it worse.

Wayne still remembered the exact words Della had screamed at him as she'd stormed out of their tiny house ''I'm going to stay with my mother. You handle this you prick.''

Wayne sighed guilt flooding him as he remembered the way Della had glared at little Lily. She looked at the infant as though Lily was a cyst on the face of humanity.

It wasn't the child's fault. It was all him, Wayne knew that.

Della and he'd had a fight the night Lily had been conceived. He'd gone off to a bar to drink away his heartache. He'd met Vera that night at the bar. She had been so gorgeous. Her long dark hair had been so long that it had almost almost reached down to her hips. She'd had a mischievous little smile on her face as she'd sipped her beer. The bell-bottoms she'd been wearing had hugged her backside perfectly.

Wayne could remember that Vera had reminded him of Cher; tall and gorgeous.

That night Vera and he'd shared a few beers and talked about the music playing over the loudspeaker. They'd both loved the Allman Brothers and Janis Joplin. They'd gotten tipsy and after a bit of flirting they'd wound up back at a motel where they'd slept together.

He'd spent a passion filled night with Vera unaware that this little life had been created.

The girl's name was Lilian; Lilian Winter Unser.

Wayne was little Lilian's father Vera had insisted as she shoved the screaming infant into his arms.

Wayne had barely had time to squeeze a word out as Vera spoke. ''I'm leaving her here with you. You have a good set up here Wayne. You can give our daughter everything I can't. I don't have anything to give her. I just can't be a mom...I'm not ready to take care of a kid. Please be good to her and tell her I loved her.''

And with that Vera had walked away jumping into the taxi she'd taken leaving Wayne in the dust with a crying baby and a pissed off pregnant fiancee.

Wayne knew that Vera might have a point about him being the more stable option for Lily. He had a nice little home and a good job with the police station. He was normal compared to Vera.

Vera didn't have much from what he knew; though it was the early eighties Vera was still locked in the hippie free love lifestyle. She never stayed in one place too long. She drove from town to town doing whatever it took to survive. She was always on the move like a modern day nomad. Vera was a free-spirit too careless and unstable to be a proper mom to a little girl.

Wayne had done the only thing he could think of at a time like this. He'd reached for the telephone calling the only person in the world he could think to call; his childhood best friend Gemma Teller.

Lily was still screeching as Gemma entered the room her high heeled boots clicking against the wood floor.

She shook her head staring down at the upset infant. "Shit Wayne. What have you done?"

"I fucked up Gem. Her mom is god knows where. She just dropped her on me...I don't know what to do? I mean I could leave the kid with my mom but what about Della?" Wayne spat out shifting Lily in his arms.

Gemma narrowed her eyes at Wayne stepping closer to him. Her voice took on a stern dangerous tone as she replied to this. "You aren't dumping this little girl on your mom. Fuck what Della thinks. This is your daughter. Family is forever Wayne. You can't tell me that you don't feel something for this baby girl?"

He sighed knowing that Gemma was right. The second Vera had placed the little girl in his arms he'd felt something in his heart pull. Despite all the dramatics and chaos Wayne knew he loved his baby girl.

He wasn't going to send her away to his mother's like she was something he should be ashamed of. No her conception hadn't been under the best circumstances, but she was still his child.

He was going to do the right thing; be a dad.

Wayne shook his head his mind going a mile a second. "What am I going to do Gemma. I don't have anything for her...no crib, no toys. There's barely any clothing but what's in that backpack. Anything I have is for the other baby...that's if Della comes back after this mess."

Gemma tossed her purse down on the sofa taking the baby from Wayne's arms as she spoke. "I'll get into my storage locker. I should have some shit left over from Jax and Thomas."

Wayne cringed at this statement; Thomas. Little Thomas Teller had died just the year before of a heart condition. He hadn't been much older than Lily was now.

Gemma didn't let Wayne's look of pity deter her as she shifted the sobbing infant in her arms. "What's her name?"

"Lilian Winter Unser." He remarked still a little stunned that Vera had given the girl his last name.

Vera had left the child's social security card and her birth certificate in the small backpack of things she'd left.

All that was in the bag not counting these two documents were a few purple and white dresses, a white onsie with little yellow ducks on it, a small package of diapers, formula, and a little white teddy bear.

Wayne knew he'd need more than that to raise a child. He needed a crib, a carseat, a changing table, more clothing, more diapers, toys, a stroller, and at least a dozen other things.

His brain ached as he realized just how much it took to raise a baby. His brain only ached more when he realized he'd be raising two babies once Della gave birth that is.

She shook her head at this name. "Well that's no good. Lily...we'll call her Lily."

"Why does she keep crying? I can't get her to settle down...you don't think there's something wrong with her do you?" Wayne blurted out his dark eyes growing wide as he stared at Lily.

Gemma rolled her eyes at just how clueless Unser was; a typical male. She spoke as she patted the infants damp bottom. "She needs to be changed."

She didn't give Wayne the chance to say anything as she snatched up the backpack heading to the back bedroom.

She spread a blanket out on the bed making quick work of unfastening Lily's little onsie. As soon as the baby had a fresh diaper on she calmed.

Gemma smirked a bit as the little girl smiled up at her one of her tiny hands reaching up to play with one of Gemma's necklaces.

She spoke to the girl her voice soft and soothing "You've got a long road ahead of you Lily...that father of yours is a disaster and don't even get me started on his fiancee. Don't you worry bout shit though. No one's going to hurt you as long as I'm around. You have Momma Gemma to look out for you."

Unser let out a huff knowing that he probably wouldn't have made it through Lily's first few years without Gemma.

Gemma had long played a mother role in Lily's life.

It bothered Unser to admit this. After all Della was her step mother and should be a mother to Lily.

Lily and Della had done nothing but fight all their lives though. Wayne hoped that with all the pain of his illness the two would come to tolerate one another and might even learn to lean on one another.

He spoke up knowing the perfect way to maybe start that bonding between his wife and daughter. "Della wants you to come over for dinner next Friday."

"Della want's me to come for dinner?" Lily replied raising an eyebrow at this. She could see straight through that comment enough to see the bullshit.

Lily shook her head feeling a little guilty that her step mother and she couldn't find a common ground. She silently reminded herself that she'd given Della all the opportunities on the planet to be a good mom and Della had failed time and time again.

It was no shock that Lily had moved out of the Unser household and had moved in with Gemma and Clay when she was fifteen.

Gemma had welcomed Lily with open arms and had made sure that Lily was taken care of, just the way a mom should.

"I'll think about it." Lily blurted out knowing that this was the easiest way to tell her father no.

She had a feeling she couldn't avoid her step mother forever though.

Lily felt her stomach roll at the thought of facing Della Unser. No one could drive Lily up the wall faster than her step mother.

Yep No place like home.

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

Lily practically jumped out of the truck as it pulled into TM Auto.

She ran to Gemma her arms encircling the woman a soft laugh escaping her lips as she spoke. "Momma Gemma."

"Hey baby. Look at you. You've grown up so much." Gemma replied smiling at the young woman who she'd always seen as a daughter.

Wayne sighed as he exited the truck watching his daughter and his friend together. He could admit he was a bit envious over the way Lily looked up at Gemma.

Lily adored the woman. She always had.

Though Unser was thankful that Gemma had been there for his daughter he couldn't help but to be irritated at the way Gemma was always jumping into things when it came to Lily.

Gemma had given Lily everything her little heart desired; a car when it was time to start driving, new clothing, jewelry, a place to live and hideout when Lily had gotten into a big fight with Della or Wayne.

After a while it had seemed as though Gemma was Lily's parent not Unser.

Gemma only saw this as her being there for Lily. She saw how Della treated Lily. Gemma knew that Wayne was too damn blind to see the truth. Della had always had a hold over Unser, even when it came to Lily.

Unser gritted his jaw as Gemma spoke up. "Come on baby lets get you settled in. I've already looked at some apartments for you and I may have sweet talked Clay into getting you some furniture."

Lily grabbed her suitcase from the back of Unser's truck giving her father a hug as she spoke. "I'll see you later dad. Call me after your appointment."

Unser let out a sigh watching his little girl walk away and disappear into TM Auto's tiny office.

Sometimes he wished he could turn back the clock. Maybe if he could do that he could fix all the mistakes he'd made with his baby girl.

Chibs Telford frowned looking up from the Harley he'd been reconstructing as he saw Sheriff Unser's old pickup truck pull into the parking lot.

It wasn't police business at least Chibs realized. Still though the sight of the sheriff always made his stomach churn, never mind the fact that Unser had been on the Sons payroll long before Chibs had even come to Charming.

He was perfectly ready to stare back at the Harley until the passengers' door on the truck opened up revealing a petite young woman.

Chibs let his eyes scan the young woman's body not helping but to like what he saw. The black jeans she wore showed her hips and bottom off perfectly and the low cut plum tank top she wore under her jean jacket showed off a small but perky set of breasts. He could see three necklaces dangling in between her cleavage; a long uncut rough clear crystal that was wrapped around wire hanging from a chain and two thinner silver chains with tiny heart trinkets hanging from them.

What Chibs liked the most though was her long dark hair. It was pulled up high into a ponytail. Chibs was sure that if she took her hair down it would reach down to the small of her back. He had to admire her smooth pale skin as well. Her skin seemed all the more milky when paired with those big dark eyes of hers.

She was pretty, he'd be a liar if he tried to deny it.

His interests were only peaked as Gemma left the office to be ambushed with a hug from the young woman.

He raised an eyebrow at the words that left the young woman's mouth Momma Gemma.

Chibs was puzzled as he saw Gemma smile down at the girl the same way he'd seen the Queen of SAMCRO smile at Jax Teller.

This was an interesting development Chibs realized.

In the five years he'd lived in Charming he'd never once seen a woman make Gemma smile like that.

Whoever this girl was she was obviously close to Gemma's heart, which Chibs knew wasn't an easy task.

Her closeness to Gemma only sparked Chibs' interest.

He continued to work as he tried to casually eavesdrop on this woman's conversations with Gemma and Unser.

Chibs found himself dying to at least know this woman's name.

He was sure he'd never seen her around town before. He was pretty sure he'd remember a pretty face like that not to mention a body like that.

He widened his eyes as the young woman gave Unser a tight hug. He only caught one word from her mouth dad.

Chibs sighed realizing that he had no place looking at this woman, not when she was a cop's daughter.

Chibs reluctantly decided that he better keep his distance if he knew what was best for him. Flirting with the sheriff's daughter wasn't a bright plan. Following his instincts with this girl was just asking for trouble.

He wasn't sure why he was so damn fascinated anyhow. After all it wasn't like he didn't see pretty girl's every damn day of the week.

The clubhouse was full of sexy women who'd gladly spread their legs for him without him even having to say a word.

A small voice in the back of his head pointed out the obvious though The girls in the clubhouse had been passed around from guy to guy at least a dozen times or more. The croweaters didn't make Gemma smile like that.

Chibs sighed knowing the truth; the truth was he was sick of the croweaters. It wasn't really any fun when you could get a woman without having to put the work into it.

As much as he hated to admit it he missed having more than sex with a woman. Yes sex was nice and all; it felt good and it was satisfying. But the satisfaction never lasted and at the end of the day Chibs was always left sleeping alone.

He was tired of always sleeping alone.

Chibs hadn't been able to move on from Fiona and all that had happened back in Ireland; all that had drove him to the MC and to Charming California.

He had almost gotten accustomed to being alone. It was just that when he saw a pretty girl like that, a girl that made the Queen of SAMCRO smile, his mind allowed itself to dream of maybe having something more than sex with her.

Chibs shook his head at these thoughts.

He knew these were just the thoughts of a foolish man, a man who wasn't getting any younger and didn't have a life that any woman would want to be a part of.

Despite the fact that Chibs knew it was best to just ignore his curiosity and stay back he found himself peeking back at Gemma and the woman as they disappeared into the office.

He let out a huff realizing that staying away would be harder than he thought.

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telford x oc #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs telford fanfiction

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abovethemists · 2 years ago

Text

To Have and to Hold - Final Chapter

Summary: After five years of marriage, Belle and Gold have hit a rough patch. However, their plans to separate are put on hold due to a shotgun wedding and three weeks of utter chaos.

A/N: I finished something! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5)

Read it on AO3

By mid morning, they had started to panic.

In the ten minutes it took Alasdair to get dressed and go after Neal, he had seemingly vanished from Storybrooke. He wasn’t answering any of their calls and after thinking to check, Belle realized his phone was still plugged in on his bedside table.

“Great,” she said as she stepped back into the hall where Emma was looking anxious. “He could be anywhere.”

Emma shook her head.

“He’s probably with August or Will or one of his other friends. He wouldn’t just bail on me. I know it.”

Belle nodded, trying to be supportive. But she knew how badly Alasdair and Milah’s divorce had affected Neal. Couple that with pre wedding jitters and…well, she hated to think about it.

“What do you want to do?” she asked Emma.

“Go to my mom’s,” Emma said with a decisive nod. “We’ve got enough going on without provoking the beast.”

Belle quickly got dressed and gave Emma a ride back to the Nolan’s. On the drive they decided not to tell Mary Margaret about any of the morning’s events. She was likely to be stressed enough as it was. But upon entering the farmhouse, Belle found a mimosa shoved into her hand and a large group of women assembled, talking and laughing to a soundtrack of pop music as if it was a bachelorette party.

“There she is!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, swanning into the living room. “My baby girl, the bride! Oh, look at you. You’re so beautiful.”

Emma looked down at her jeans and tank top, then glanced aside at Belle who shrugged.

“How many of those have you had?” Emma asked, nodding her head at Mary Margaret’s own champagne glass.

“Just enough to take the edge off,” Mary Margaret said brightly. “I made you a virgin mimosa.”

“Oh, so orange juice,” Emma deadpanned.

Mary Margaret ignored her, turning to Belle. “How did last night go?” she asked in a sing-song voice.

Belle glanced around at the crowd of women, most of whom she didn’t know well.

“Um,” she said, taking a sip of mimosa to buy some time.

Mary Margaret winked at her. “I saw the way Mr. Gold was eyeing you all night. My advice did the trick, didn’t it?”

Emma was looking between the two of them with disgust on her face.

“I need coffee,” she said, walking off toward the kitchen.

“Decaf only, young lady!” Mary Margaret yelled after her before moving further into the living room, dancing along to the music and sloshing champagne and orange juice on the hardwood floors.

Belle just watched her, wondering if the morning could go any more off script. Mary Margaret hadn’t said a word about them being over an hour late. A few of the bridesmaids were having their hair and makeup done in the downstairs bathroom and Belle was informed it would be her turn next. She smiled tightly. The last thing she was concerned about was her hair.

A few minutes later, Emma came back to the living room, blowing on her cup of coffee.

“I have no idea what happened to momzilla. Who is this calm, loopy, lady?”

“I gave her a valium,” said Lily, Emma’s maid of honor, stepping out of the bathroom with her hair freshly curled.

Emma and Belle swung around to look at her.

“What!?” Emma exclaimed. “You drugged my mother!”

“What’s the big deal? It’ll just calm her down a little. You should have seen her first thing this morning when you weren’t here. I thought she was gonna have a panic attack.”

“And she’s drinking on top of that? Is she going to be able to stand up by wedding time?”

Lily just shrugged, not a care in the world. “I’ll carry her to her seat if I need to. Enjoy your day, Emma.”

She gave her a wink before continuing on and Emma looked at Belle with a worried expression.

“I guess she won’t panic about Neal?” she said, the end of her sentence going up into a question.

“Yeah,” Belle said. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go check in on Alasdair.”

She excused herself to the front porch, setting her mimosa down on the railing and calling her husband.

“Any sign of him?” she asked, as soon as he picked up.

“No,” Gold growled out. “I checked Granny’s, the shop, the high school, even the Rabbit Hole. He’s nowhere to be found.”

“Well he couldn’t have gone far,” she reassured him. “His car is still at the house.”

“Perhaps he caught a bus out of town?”

“In his pajamas,” Belle said flatly.

“Well, I don’t know. You saw the mood he was in this morning. He probably doesn’t want to be found.”

Belle nodded.

“I’ll call Will,” she said, and she heard Alasdair grunt on the other end of the line. “Oh come on,” she said with an eye roll. “After last night you can’t possibly still be jealous.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“Well your son is probably with him.”

“Fine,” Alasdair said shortly.

“Hey,” she said, feeling slightly nervous. “We haven’t been able to talk this morning. Are we…”

“We’re okay,” he returned, his voice softening.

“Okay,” Belle repeated. What exactly did that mean?

“Call Will,” Alasdair said. “I’ve got a few other places to check.”

A quick call to a very sleepy and obviously hungover Will yielded no results. He hadn’t seen Neal since the night before. Neal’s other groomsmen proved just as helpful.

Belle checked her watch. It was already noon. Then Ruby poked her head out on the porch to tell Belle it was her turn for hair and makeup.

Thirty minutes later her hair had been twisted up into an elegant knot, and her makeup was ready for the runway. Belle didn’t think she’d ever worn so much in her life, not even for her own wedding. It wasn’t her style, but it also didn’t matter.

She found Emma, who was being oohed and ahhed over by the assorted women as they all passed around her wedding dress on a satin hanger and pulled her aside.

“Did you find Neal?” she asked under her breath, her eyes looking strained.

Belle shook her head. “Not yet, but we will. I’m going to go help Alasdair look, alright?”

Emma nodded, still looking worried, and Belle excused herself from the festivities.

“Aw, Belle,” Mary Margaret called after her. “You have to stay! We’re going to play a game!” She shook a box with neon pink writing that claimed to be an adult themed party game.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “Gotta help the groom. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

"Buzz kill!" Mary Margaret shouted after her.

Belle felt like she was constantly checking the time and wishing to God it would slow down. The wedding was in six hours. Now five. Neal was going to stand Emma up and ruin his life and relationship and it was all her fault. If they’d just told Neal the truth all those weeks ago, when he’d first come home to tell them about the engagement, they could have avoided all of this. But she hadn’t wanted to admit their marital issues aloud. If only she could go back in time even further, to last July and the blow up fight she’d had with Alasdair. If only she could keep herself from saying such hurtful things. If only Alasdair had told her how badly she’d wounded him.

But there was no use wishing for things that would never be.

After combing the streets in her Volvo with no sight of Neal, Belle met Gold back at the house, getting out of her car just as he pulled up in the Cadillac.

“He’s not at the cabin,” Gold said with a grimace, getting his cane beneath him as he stepped out of the car. “Not that I expected him to be, but it was the last place I could think to look.”

Belle let out a sigh.

“It’s a small town, Alasdair, there’s only so many places he could be.”

“I’m all ears if you have suggestions.”

“Did you check in with Milah?” Belle asked.

Gold leveled her with a look.

Belle let out a sigh of frustration.

“Look, she’s his mother. He may have gone to see her.”

“The very person responsible for the trauma he’s dealing with right now?”

“One of the people,” she said sweetly.

Alasdair’s mouth had flattened into a very grim line, and Belle shook her head.

“Let’s not act like we’re not all a little responsible for this,” she said. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we should have told Neal about our split from the beginning instead of keeping it a secret. Maybe he could have talked some sense into us before we made ourselves miserable for months.”

Alasdair’s face softened and he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re not to blame, Belle. You only wanted to protect Neal, to make sure his wedding day was a happy one. I’m the one he’s angry with.”

Belle reached out a hand to take Alasdair’s free one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It’ll be alright,” she said. “As long as we find him before 6:00, that is.”

“Right,” Alasdair said with a nod. “I suppose I’m off to speak to Milah then.”

Belle gave him an encouraging smile.

“I’ll keep looking around town in the meantime.”

She turned to head back to her car, but Alasdair caught her hand in his own.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling her back around to him.

“For what?” she asked, confused.

“For loving my son,” he said with a little nod. “You didn’t…you didn’t have to be a mother to him, but you have been. From the very first. I know we couldn’t have a child of our own, and it’s a pity Belle. Because you’re the best mother I can imagine.”

Belle blinked, not wanting to let the tears fall and ruin Ruby’s hard work on her makeup.

“Of course,” she said. Because what else could she do?

His thumb rubbed against her palm and Belle stepped closer. Everything between them was still so uncertain. She needed confirmation, something that would show her they were on the right track. Gold’s eyes were tracing over her face, from her coiffed hair to her red lips.

“You look very pretty,” he said, and Belle couldn’t help but blush. She’d become unaccustomed to compliments.

“I feel like a Sephora exploded on my face.”

Gold looked confused.

“It’s just a lot of makeup,” she explained.

“Ah, well, you certainly don’t need it. But you look lovely all the same.”

He bent his head, kissing her cheek lightly, making sure not to disturb her makeup and then pulled away with a wink.

“I’d better find Neal, because I certainly plan on dancing with you tonight.”

Belle let out a startled laugh. “I look forward to it.”

With one last kiss pressed to her knuckles, Gold went back to the Cadillac, turning it in the direction of Granny’s B&B.

Belle stared up at the pink Victorian. With any luck, she’d be moving her stuff back in soon enough. Well, what little she’d managed to move out. Their separation that had caused so much pain and heartache all seemed so arbitrary in hindsight. She’d never even managed to move the bulk of the things in her closet.

With that in mind, she darted inside to get her dress for the wedding, just in case they found Neal at the last possible second and she had to get dressed on the fly. It was simple, a dark blue a-line dress with delicate cap sleeves. She had a pair of peep toe shoes that went perfectly with it and she scrounged the shoe rack at the back of the closet for them. With a groan, she realized she’d forgotten them back at her apartment, another inconvenience of her short separation.

Belle checked the time again. It was 2:00. The wedding party was supposed to all be at the Magus Mansion by 4:30 for photos before the ceremony. At this rate, she wouldn’t have time to change.

Well, she could do so at her apartment. She’d take the dress over, grab her shoes, get fully ready for the wedding, and with any luck Neal would have come to his senses by then and turned up none the worse for the wear.

The library was closed for the day, a concession to the wedding festivities. The caretaker's apartment was located at the back of the library, a heavy metal door guarding the concrete stairwell that had maimed her suitcase. Belle hadn't been by the apartment in the past few days, and she was surprised to find the stairwell door unlocked and propped open slightly. On edge, she crept up the stairs, wondering if perhaps she should call the sheriff. It wasn't as though anyone had been squatting there while it laid empty for five years. She had found the dusty little apartment exactly as she'd left it. The apartment door was similarly unlocked, and it swung open with the barest push as she stood in the doorway, holding her breath. But the sight that met her inside made her sigh in relief.

Neal was sitting on her squashy little sofa, a lone shadow in the dark apartment. His v-neck t-shirt and plaid pajama pants were a far cry from the way he should be dressed at this hour and the expression on his face was anything but that of an excited groom. She flicked the overhead light on and Neal winced at the sudden brightness.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. “Something about a wedding and a runaway groom.”

Neal looked up at her with his big brown eyes, so similar to his father’s, but said nothing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, motioning around at the apartment. “How did you even get in?”

“Hide A Key is in the same place,” Neal said flatly, holding up a small silver key.

Belle cocked her head to the side. “I didn’t know there was a hide a key,” she said, reaching over and snatching it out of Neal’s hand. She turned it over on her palm, wondering where it had been all these years.

“Emma and I used to come hang out here…” he trailed off. “Back in high school. When we wanted some alone time .”

“Oh,” Belle said, her eyebrows raised. “ Oh . Not sure how I feel about that, to be honest.”

Neal just shrugged. “Not like we need it anymore. But something made me come here today. Thinking of simpler times, I guess.”

Belle sat down beside her stepson, the old loveseat sagging toward the middle with the addition of her slight weight.

“Looks different now,” Neal mused. “The furniture was all covered up and there was nothing really here back in high school. But I guess you’ve moved back in, huh?”

“I…” Belle puzzled over her answer. “Sort of, I guess. Not that I’ve spent much time here lately.”

“Because you’ve been pretending you and Dad are still together, pretending to be happy, lying to me.”

He didn’t sound angry anymore, just resigned. There was a hollowness to his voice that hurt Belle more than any amount of rage could have.

“Neal, we never wanted to lie to you,” she said, chancing a hand against his arm. He didn’t shrug her off which she took as a good sign. “We just didn’t want to ruin the happiest time of your life with our own silly drama.”

Neal let out a humorless snort. “Is that what a divorce is? Silly drama? Not in my experience.”

Belle sighed, rubbing her hand against Neal’s arm. “No, I suppose that’s understating things isn’t it?”

He was silent for a long moment, before looking aside at Belle.

“What happened between you two?”

“Life,” Belle said. “Stress. Mostly we stopped seeing each other, stopped saying what we really wanted. We’re trying to change that.”

“So are you getting a divorce?” he asked.

“No,” Belle said assuredly, shaking her head. “Because I love your dad more than I’ve ever loved anything. He’s frustrating and annoying and so, so stupid, but I love him. And when you find someone you love that much, you never give up on them.”

“But how do you know?” he asked. “How do you know that Papa is right for you? How can you be sure it’s not going to fall apart again a month from now or a year?”

“Do you think that’s what’s going to happen with you and Emma?” she asked, deflecting his question with one of her own.

Neal shook his head.

“Before this morning, I would have said no. I would have said I was completely certain that we’d be together forever. But if something can shake you and Pop, what makes Emma and I any different?”

“Well, none of us can predict the future,” Belle said. “I can’t tell you you’re not going to have tough times. Even the happiest marriages do. Life isn’t perfect and neither is marriage, but the difference between a happy marriage and an unhappy one is your investment. Eventually something will go wrong, but if you stand together, you and Emma can face anything.”

She gave his arm a comforting squeeze and Neal finally shook her off, raking his hands through his hair and over his face.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said, his monotone voice muffled by his hands.

“Hogwash,” Belle said, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “You and Emma love each other. You’re having a baby. What’s a little party with a white dress in comparison to that commitment?”

“I’m just…” Neal paused, looking beside himself as his hands dropped to his lap. “I’m worried I’m making the exact same mistakes my parents did. I mean, Belle, you think they’re bad now, you should have seen them when they were married. That divorce was the best thing that ever happened to any of us and it still wrecked them for years afterward. Every childhood memory I have is tainted with whatever fight they were having at the time. I can’t do that to my kid.”

“But that’s not you and Emma,” Belle said empathetically.

“Not now,” he countered. “But Mom and Pop got married, they had me. They must have been in love at some point. And it still turned out how it did.”

“No we weren’t,” came a voice from the doorway. Belle jumped, looking up to see Alasdair standing there. He’d somehow dressed for the wedding, cutting an impressive figure in his tux with a boutonniere of fresh greenery and baby's breath pinned to his buttonhole. “No love is needed to make a child, and sometimes you have all the love in the world and it still doesn’t happen.”

“Alasdair,” Belle breathed.

“Your mother and I weren’t in love, Neal, never,” he continued, coming to sit on the other side of Neal, the small sofa sinking even further toward the floor. “We had been seeing each other, not exclusively as I came to find out, for about a month when you were conceived. Liverpool beat Man U in the FA Cup Final, spirits were high, the lager was flowing and we were careless. Your mother and I didn’t love each other. We barely knew each other. And within six months of being married she resented me for trapping her with a baby, no matter that was never my intent. We were never happy, son. Don’t let our failures color your relationship with Emma. The two couldn’t be more different.”

Neal looked up at his father with disgust.

“So I’m the product of a drunken one night stand brought on by football euphoria?” he asked with a snort. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Alasdair shrugged, his lips curving up in a smile. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

Neal shook his head with a laugh, dragging his hands over his face again. Belle considered it a win.

“Neal, I might think you and Emma are too young for all this, but the fact of the matter is you’ll be bound to each other regardless. That baby is going to be the most extraordinary thing to ever happen to either of you. It will change your life, for the better, I promise. Of all the mistakes I’ve made in this life, you were never one of them. Being your dad is my greatest joy. And whatever the two of you choose, Belle and I will support it and support you.”

Belle’s heart gave a little leap, hearing Alasdair speak of them as a unit.

“We’ve got you, Neal,” she said with a little smile.

Neal heaved a deep breath. “Where’s Emma?” he asked, looking up at Belle.

“She’s with her mother, getting ready.”

Neal nodded. “I should probably put on real pants,” he said, looking down at his flannel pajama bottoms. “And then we need to talk.”

By the time they reached the Magus Mansion, Belle and Gold fully dressed for the wedding and Neal in the backseat in jeans, it was after 4:00. Belle sincerely hoped Mary Margaret’s valium was still in effect or she was sure the other woman was having some sort of conniption fit.

The photographer was already setting up in the gardens and the manager told Belle that Emma was getting some last minute touch ups in the bridal dressing room upstairs. They rushed inside, Neal taking the stairs two at a time until they reached the solid oak door labeled “Bridal Suite”.

Neal knocked on the door tentatively.

“Come in,” came Emma’s voice from inside, and Neal cracked open the door.

“Neal!” Emma exclaimed in a relieved voice at the sight of his reflection in her mirror. Emma was sitting in front of an antique vanity as her mother wove little white flowers into her hair. Belle had a glimpse of the white lace of Emma’s long dress before Mary Margaret gasped, spinning around and moving her body in front of Emma, trying to block her from view.

“What are you doing? You can’t see the bride before the wedding!” she hissed at Neal. “It’s bad luck!”

“Mom,” Emma said exasperatedly from behind Mary Margaret’s back. “It’s okay.”

“What are you wearing?” Mary Margaret continued, looking Neal up and down. “It’s time for photos. You and the groomsmen are first. Where is your tux?”

“Mary Margaret,” Belle interrupted, coming to take her friend’s hand. “It’s their wedding day. Let’s give them a minute?”

“We don’t have a minute,” Mary Margaret hissed out. “We are on a very tight schedule that no one seems concerned with but me.”

“Please, Mom,” Emma said, standing and gazing at Neal with a wary look on her face.

Mary Margaret looked torn, looking back and forth between Emma and Neal.

“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She stomped out of the room, her heels clacking angrily against the hardwood floors. Belle supposed the champagne and drug laced euphoria of the morning had definitely worn off. She gave Neal an encouraging smile before closing the door on the engaged couple, giving them their privacy.

There was a striped upholstered bench on the stretch of wall across from the dressing room and Gold settled himself upon it, his cane balanced between his knees. He looked as calm as could be, a marked difference from the frantic mother of the bride.

“What are they talking about in there?” Mary Margaret whispered, pressing her ear to the door. “The wedding is in less than two hours and Neal isn’t even dressed yet!”

“Give them some space, Mrs. Nolan,” Alasdair said, and Mary Margaret wheeled around.

“We are on a schedule!” she exclaimed. She seemed to realize almost immediately that she had yelled at Mr. Gold. No one yelled at Mr. Gold. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I’m a little on edge. Today has to be perfect.”

“Why?” Alasdair asked with a shrug. “It’s a wedding. They’ll say their vows, they’ll dance, they’ll eat cake. Everyone will remember the lovely time they had at the open bar and little else.”

Mary Margaret stared at him as though he had three heads.

“Emma trips walking down the aisle because she didn’t get enough practice in her wedding shoes,” she rattled off, holding up a finger. “Neal’s tux pants are too short because he didn’t bother trying them on until five minutes before the wedding,” another finger. “The officiant imbibes too much at the cocktail hour and face plants during the ceremony,” a third finger.

Gold snorted.

“Crises, all,” he said sarcastically.

Mary Margaret crossed her arms against her chest.

“Fine,” she said, haughtily. “Emma and Neal decide to elope to Bali and I lose all my deposits and don’t have one single picture or memory of my only daughter’s wedding day.”

Gold just gave a little nod.

“I can see why that would upset you. But I don’t think we need to worry about it quite yet.”

Mary Margaret threw her hands up, pacing off down the hall and Belle sat down next to Alasdair.

“You can have all the love in the world, hmm?”

He glanced up at her with a puzzled look on his face.

“What you said to Neal,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder. “Back at the apartment. About love not being a necessary requirement to having a child.”

“Ah,” Alasdair said with a nod. “If it were, we’d have a house full.”

“Yeah,” Belle agreed, entwining her hand with Gold’s. He squeezed it reassuringly.

After fifteen minutes of relative silence coming from Emma’s dressing room, Belle worried Mary Margaret was going to wear a hole into the carpet with her pacing. A moment later, the door cracked open and Neal and Emma exited, holding hands and smiling. It was an odd juxtaposition; Emma looking ethereally lovely in her wedding gown which, Belle was pleased to note, was just as timeless as Mary Margaret had indicated, and Neal in his jeans and flannel button down.

“Oh, finally!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “We’re going to be late!”

“Mom,” Emma interrupted her with a raised hand. “We have something to tell you all.”

Emma and Neal shared a loaded glance before she turned back to her mother and would be in-laws. “We’re not getting married. At least not today. Not yet.”

“What!?” Mary Margaret screeched, the pitch of her voice making Belle wince. “You had better be joking, young lady. There are 120 guests waiting in that garden to watch a wedding. I can’t just tell them to all go home.”

“You’re right,” Emma continued, coolly. “They came for a wedding and we’ll give them one.”

Mary Margaret let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” she said, “Neal, get your tux on.”

Neal cocked his head to the side, looking Mary Margaret over. “I actually think you’re a little underdressed.”

Mary Margaret glanced down at her conservative pink and black Mother of the Bride dress.

“What?” she said, looking confused and slightly panicked.

“This isn’t my wedding, Mom,” Emma said with a smile. “It never was. It’s yours. The dress, the flowers, the guest list. It’s the wedding you and dad deserve, but never got to have.”

“What are you suggesting?” Mary Margaret demanded. “I already got married twenty years ago.”

“You got married, yes,” Emma agreed. “But you didn’t get a wedding. Now’s your big chance.”

Mary Margaret’s mouth fell open as she shook her head slightly. “No,” she insisted. “This is your wedding.”

“I know you brought Grandma’s veil,” Emma cut across her.

Mary Margaret looked sheepish. “I was hoping you might change your mind about the veil. But Emma, I can’t fit in the dress. I’ve had two children. I don’t have your figure.”

“I’ve put on a few pounds with the pregnancy and you’ve lost a few with the stress this wedding has put on you. We’re practically the same size.”

Mary Margaret was still gaping at her daughter like a fish out of water. Belle glanced aside at Alasdair to see that he was grinning, enjoying the spectacle before them. She couldn’t help it, she let out a laugh.

Mary Margaret spun around to look at the Gold’s as if she’d forgotten they were there.

“I think that’s a great idea, Emma,” Belle said, standing up and going to them. “You and Neal should get married when you’re ready to, on no one’s timeline but your own. And Mary Margaret, Emma is right. This is your wedding.”

Mary Margaret shook her head, still looking unconvinced. “But your father would never go for it.”

“I already texted him,” Emma said, holding her phone up in her hand.

“Mary Margaret?” They all turned to see David at the end of the hall. He walked toward them, stopping before Mary Margaret and dropping to one knee.

“What are you doing?” Mary Margaret asked.

David looked up at her, his face shining with love.

“I fell in love with you when I was sixteen, and I have fallen more in love with you every day since. We wake up every day and choose each other, no matter what life throws at us. So here I am choosing you again. Will you marry me? Tonight?”

“David,” she gasped out, her eyes wet with tears. “How could I ever say no?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes!” Mary Margaret cried, breathlessly.

Mary Margaret Blanchard Nolan and David Nolan renewed their vows in the garden of the Magus mansion at 6:30 in the evening. After a bit of shuffling and a few announcements, the wedding transitioned to a vow renewal. The bulk of the guests were there for Mary Margaret and David anyway, Emma and Neal’s friends were happy enough to stay for the open bar, and Milah and Killian slipped away as soon as they realized they no longer had to be there. All in all, Belle thought it was as seamless as a canceled wedding could possibly be.

She and Alasdair found seats near the back of the ceremony, no longer required to be front and center as parents of the groom.

Emma was right, the dress did fit Mary Margaret beautifully as she walked down the aisle to a string quartet, a beaming smile on her face. Emma looked less at ease in Mary Margaret’s staid dress, but she was smiling just as broadly as she stood in as Maid of Honor. Little Leo cut a dashing figure in his tiny tux, promoted from ring bearer to Best Man.

“Do you, Mary Margaret, take this man to be your husband…again?” Archie asked. There was a titter of laughter throughout the congregants and Mary Margaret shook her head with tears in her eyes.

“I absolutely do,” she said.

Beside Belle, she felt Alasdair reach for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. She glanced at him, but he was watching the Nolans exchange vows. His hand tightened around hers.

Belle leaned in against him, and Alasdair wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“I love you,” he whispered against her ear.

She smiled at him, squeezing his knee with her hand.

“I love you, too.”

They would be okay, she realized. Because just like Mary Margaret and David, they chose to be.

The garden was alight with candles and fairy lights, illuminating the flowers and greenery in the failing early summer sunlight. The evening sounds of crickets and the lapping of the water in the bay against the cliffs below the mansion were all but drowned out by the music from August’s turntable, driving people on to the dance floor in droves. Belle and Gold were content to sit out the more frenzied music, sipping champagne at a cocktail table on the sidelines.

“Well, I’d say that was a successful wedding,” she said, clinking her glass against Gold’s. “Considering Neal didn’t actually get married.”

“I agree,” he said. “And best of all, I didn’t pay for any of this.”

Belle rolled her eyes fondly at him.

“What’s Neal’s plan now?” she asked, watching as the man in question twirled Emma around on the dance floor.

“They’re going to find an apartment together, get settled into their jobs, all the things they would have done without this silly ritual.”

“Silly ritual?” Belle asked. “If that’s what you think of marriage, why did you ever propose to me?”

“Because when a man is lucky enough to catch the attention of a woman like you, they lock it down as soon as they can,” he said with a wink.

“Mhmm,” Belle said, unconvinced by his flattery. “That’s why you’ve spent the better part of the past year trying to drive me away.”

A flash of pain crossed Alasdair’s face and Belle set her champagne glass down, reaching for his hand on the table instead.

“I’m joking,” she assured him. “Well, sort of. Just don’t do anything that pigheaded again.”

“I promise,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I realize I’ve probably got some feelings of inadequacy I’ve never really dealt with. Perhaps I should seek out a session with Dr. Hopper.”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea,” Belle encouraged him.

Her eyes drifted off across the reception before she caught sight of someone she hadn’t expected to see, a striking blonde in a red dress.

“Anastasia,” she called the blonde over to them. “You’re here. Will indicated you weren’t going to make it.”

“I didn’t think I could,” she said, glancing around the small garden fervently. “Have you seen Will?”

Belle nodded in the direction of the dance floor where Will and Neal were attempting to hoist David onto their shoulders and failing horribly. Ana’s big eyes filled with worry.

“There he is,” she said breathlessly, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Oh my God, how do I look?”

She turned back to Belle quickly. Ana was stunning as usual in her form fitting dress, her blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders.

“Beautiful,” Belle said with a smile.

Ana bit her lip, still looking worried.

“I think I really hurt him,” she said. “I don’t know if he’ll want me to be here.”

“He does,” Belle assured her. “I promise you he does.”

Ana just nodded before scurrying off to Will.

“What was that about?” Alasdair asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“That,” Belle said, turning to face her husband. “Is why you have absolutely no reason to think Will Scarlet is interested in me.”

“He’d be a fool not to be,” Gold shot back. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Did you miss the 22-year-old blonde glamazon?”

Gold shrugged, wrapping his arm about her waist.

“I prefer brunettes,” he said with a smirk.

The music changed from the pounding dance music to something softer and Alasdair dropped his arm from her waist, reaching instead for her hand.

“Care to dance, Mrs. Gold?”

“I would love to,” she said with a smile.

Alasdair led her out onto the dance floor, wrapping his arms around her as they swayed together to the music.

“We could do this, you know,” he said. “Renew our vows.”

Belle looked up at him. “Another silly ritual?”

“Our wedding was small,” he continued. “You deserve something lavish.”

“You said the same thing when we got married,” she pointed out. “I was perfectly happy with our wedding. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

It was at that moment that a cacophony went off, huge blooms of fireworks lighting up the darkening night sky. The assembled crowd gasped, which turned to oohs and aahs at the spectacle.

“That’ll be Leroy,” Alasdair said, unfazed.

“I beg your pardon?” Belle asked, looking up at him, the purple, red, and pink light reflected on his upturned face.

“I paid Leroy an obscene amount of money to shoot fireworks off his boat in the bay when Emma and Neal were pronounced man and wife. I suppose his timing was a little off.”

Belle stared up at her husband, the man she loved more than anything.

“You did that for them? Even though you were so grumpy about the wedding?”

Alasdair glanced down at her.

“Of course,” he said. “I know I’m not always the best at showing it, but I’m full of love, Belle. For you, for Neal, for Emma, for our future grandchild. I–”

Belle didn’t let him finish. She reached up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, hard. Alasdair melted into her, his arms tightening about her waist. Neither of them had ever been much for PDA, but at the moment it didn’t matter. There was a wolf whistle from somewhere beside them, but Belle couldn’t be bothered to see who it was. She kissed her husband on the dance floor beneath a symphony of fireworks and couldn’t have wished for a single thing. She was complete.

One Month Later Belle drummed her fingers restlessly against her knees, trying, and failing, to keep the hope from blooming in her chest. She looked down at her wristwatch. How had it only been one minute?

She let out a sigh, staring at the marble tile wall of the shower across from her spot perched on the closed lid of the toilet. It was 6:00 in the evening. Alasdair was downstairs in the kitchen, whipping up a feast and none the wiser to her predicament.

She’d been here before, so many times in this exact position. During their years long fertility journey she’d taken dozens of pregnancy tests. Each time she’d tried to tamp down on that bubble of excitement. She knew all too well how difficult the disappointment was when you let yourself have the slightest bit of hope.

Belle chewed her lip, checking her watch again.

Three minutes.

She glanced over at the test, hanging precariously over the edge of the bathroom sink. She wouldn’t look early. The results weren’t accurate until after the full ten minutes.

“Oh this is stupid,” she sighed, burying her face in her hands. She and Alasdair had tried for ages to get pregnant, naturally at first and then with the help of science, IUI, IVF, none of it had worked. What were the odds they’d get pregnant when they weren’t trying at all?

But she was ten days late.

Belle’s unpredictable period had burned her before. She’d been a week late before and certain, so certain, that the miracle she’d waited for had finally happened. She’d been wrong then, and she was probably wrong now.

It’s why she hadn’t shared her suspicion with Alasdair. There was no need to. It would be all for naught, and bringing up what had been such a sensitive subject in their marriage again so close upon the heels of their reconciliation, was not something she was willing to do.

Six minutes .

But she’d never been ten days late. She’d stewed over it at the library all day, whether to stop by the pharmacy or not. In the end, her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She had to know. Even if it was a resounding negative, at least her mind would be put at ease, no more wondering.

She picked at her thumbnail, flaking off the pink paint still there from the wedding last month. Was it too soon? She and Alasdair had just started on their path back to each other, one filled with honesty and regular therapy sessions. A child, no matter how wanted, would throw their lives into upheaval. Could they handle the added stress? The inability to have a child had driven them apart, would a baby do the same?

Belle shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. And besides, she and Alasdair had turned over a new leaf. He would never try to shut her out for her own good again. They would communicate.

Although, not telling him about the pregnancy test wasn’t exactly a great start. She just didn’t want him to get his hopes up for nothing. It was probably nothing.

Eight minutes.

Would she have morning sickness? Would her feet swell? Would she curse the day she ever wished for pregnancy?

No. The test would be negative. They were always negative. She would wad the test up in toilet paper, bury it at the bottom of the wastebasket, try to push down the sorrow, and go downstairs and have a glass of red wine. She’d eat a delicious meal, have a relaxing night, and end it all with a mind blowing orgasm, courtesy of her insanely attractive husband who loved her and who was exactly enough. She didn’t need anything more.

She didn’t need a baby.

Belle breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t need anything more. She was perfectly happy. She had a wonderful life. She would probably always want a baby, but she didn’t need one to fulfill her. She was enough, just as she was.

The timer on her watch beeped out and Belle startled, rattling the toilet seat she was sitting on.

That was ten minutes then.

She almost didn’t want to check, to go ahead and chuck it away. This was just a backslide into her old ways. She’d bring it up with Dr. Hopper at their next session.

She took a deep breath, standing up and crossing the bathroom to the sink. The white plastic test stared up at her, an innocuous thing. She picked it up to read the result and did a double take. Where she was so used to seeing one solitary line, there were two. Two pink lines as bright as day.

Belle grabbed the box for the test, reading over the instructions on the back to make sure they hadn’t changed drastically in the last several months. But no. Two lines meant…

Her hand shook, a sob forming in her throat. It had happened. It had finally happened.

“ALASDAIR!” she screamed, throwing open the door and setting off at a run.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #fic: to have and to hold #raven's fic #this turned out long and clunky but at least it's done #i finished something

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