#White fluffy clouds.... White fluffy dress.... Wedding... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delopsia · 3 months

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Coyote | Miles Miller x Reader

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

This bed used to be comfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

It's cruel, truly.

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

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

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

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

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

Miles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was it?

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

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

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

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

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

You haven't quit falling since.

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

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

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

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

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

Tap.

Your head lifts.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

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

Tap. Tap. Tap.

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

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

Tap. Tap.

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

the mirror.

The mirror is open.

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

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

You'll both be dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still asleep.

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

One foot leaves the worn hotel carpet.

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

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

He looks at you.

You look at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his silence still has you waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Outside, a truck engine roars to life.

"Car," Miles chokes, "we gotta..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fear you'd do it if he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hand slips down to smack his ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, he doesn't move.

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

You're only got one solution on deck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn't ask for anything more.

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

For eleven months, nobody knows what happened to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#miles miller #miles miller x reader #bad times at the el royale #oneshot #werewolf au

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more-cardigan-than-woman · 1 year

Text

Enough, Enough Now.

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

Jason Todd x ExReader

2.5k

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

Enough.

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

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

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

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

"Jason."

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

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

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

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

"I still love him."

"It'll pass."

Meanwhile on a rooftop across town.

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

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

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

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

"Go to her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Bridal Suite.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. I saw him."

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

"Aren't you marrying someone else?"

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

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

"Fuck you! This dress is perfect."

"Dude, you look like a cloud."

"I do not!"

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

"Don't be a dick on my wedding day."

"Comes with the name."

"Whatever, we should get going."

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

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

"How do we do that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No need for that, puff n fresh."

"You're right."

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

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

"I-"

"Just a few more steps."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you kill him?"

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

"Asshole."

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

"What's that?"

"Letting me unwrap my wedding gift."

"Jay I-"

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

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

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

"Can I undress you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lick me, please."

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

"Yes, always."

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

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

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

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

"Again."

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

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

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

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

"Too many."

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

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

"More, give me more pretty wife."

"Can't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wonderful."

"Good, get some rest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist.

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

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

#jason todd fanfic #reader x jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader

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kmomof4 · 17 days

Text

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

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

Rating: T

Words: 4500 of approx 21k

Todays Ch On ao3 and ff.net

Ch1 on Tumblr

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha’ did you say?” the man slurred.

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One more time?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was when I knew I loved her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, bless him,” Mary Margaret cooed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

#destination dream weddings driving disasters & dented derrieres #vacay fic #collab fic #whimsicallyenchantedrose #snowbellewells #jrob64 #krystal writes #art by joni

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camaro-and-smokes · 1 year

Text

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Chapter 20: Can't Help Falling in Love

Tags for this chapter: No warnings, wedding fluff. See all tags for the whole fic on AO3.

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Summary: And so they stood before the judge

::::::::::

The sun was shining behind white fluffy clouds, and a gentle breeze was blowing from the sea. It made the waves slowly sway to the shore and back, only to rush in a bit faster before returning again to the sea.

On the beach, a curtain was moving lazily in the wind. It was wrapped around two poles, connecting them together to mark a place for an altar. Sunflowers were tied to the poles and buckets of them were placed around the altar to mark an area where the wedding ceremony would take place.

As if on cue, the sky cleared and let the sun shine bright when Billy walked out of the hotel doors. When he saw Steve already standing on the beach with the rest of their friends and family, he stopped to take it all in.

Max glanced at her brother. "Need a tissue?" she asked knowingly, more as a statement than an actual question, already digging the pocket of her dress. "Because if you even dream of running now, I'm going to catch you and drag you to that altar. Steve's the best guy you've ever dated and you'll answer to me if you do that to him."

Billy snorted pursing his lips and took the tissue Max gave him. "I would never do that to him, I love him." When he’d stopped the tears trying to find their way out from his eyes, he looked at Max and took her hand. "Let's go, the rest of my life is waiting for me there."

Steve took a deep breath when he saw Billy looking at him from hotel doors. They'd spent the last night in separate rooms and despite it being just one night, he already missed Billy. It was always a joy to see him, but seeing him now, walking onto the beach with Max, to be wedded to him—it was something special. He looked breathtaking, even though he was wearing just jeans and a simple shirt, his hair up on a loose bun, his golden skin and hair gleaming in the sunlight. The view was instantly burned into Steve's heart and he'd cherish it until his last breath. Dustin, Steve's bestman, slipped a tissue to his hand, and he took it with gratitude.

There was no real aisle because there were no chairs but when the guests saw Steve's smile widening and looking behind them, they all turned to look. When they saw Billy and Max approach, they formed one between them.

Billy had to lower his gaze onto the bright sand even though it hurt his eyes. He had given his sunglasses to Max to hold until the ceremony was over for he wanted Steve to see his eyes when they said their vows. But worse than the sun were the tears prickling right under his skin, ones he knew he was unable to hold back the moment he met with Steve's eyes. Seeing everyone he held dear, the ones he'd known for a long time and the ones who'd become very important very quickly because they were dear to Steve, was the other reason. Yet, he glanced up as he and Max walked through the crowd. Robin was there standing next to her partner Vicky and smiling a wide smile at him and mouthing you're gorgeous. Dustin's girlfriend Emily, who was also a writer, was wiping her eyes. And of course Steve's mother Margaret, who had practically adopted Billy, smiling at him and not hiding the fact that she had clearly cried more on that morning than he had. Chrissy smiling the widest smile, and finally Eddie, who was trying to keep a straight face even though Billy could see that he, too, was overwhelmed by emotions.

And so they walked in front of the judge.

When he stopped in front of the crowd with Max, he glanced at her. She smiled and he squeezed her hand for the last time before she let go and moved to the side. Billy took a deep breath as Steve stepped next to him and took his hand. Billy looked at Steve and when he saw him smiling, his big brown eyes looking at him as lovingly as only he could, the floodgates opened.

“Hey, don't cry, gorgeous,” Steve whispered and gave Billy the slightly wet tissue he had wiped his own eyes into just a moment earlier. “We didn't even get to the good part yet.” He kissed Billy's knuckles. “Shall we?”

Billy smiled, and nodded, for words had totally escaped him.

What the judge said before the vows was just a buzz for them both, sounding just like adults speaking in the Peanuts cartoons. Steve held Billy's hand tightly and squeezed it reassuringly whenever Billy sniffled, wiping his own eyes from time to time. When it was time for the vows, the judge smiled to them both and took a step back.

“Let me just get the paper from my pocket,” Steve said and let go of Billy's hand. “I had to write it down for I knew I couldn't remember a thing when saw Billy. I was right,” he chuckled, making Billy and the guests laugh. He took Billy's hand again turning to face him, and looked at the paper. He looked up at Billy's eyes, and swallowed.

“Billy. Before I met you, for a long time my world had been in turmoil and my attention in things that really didn't matter. When I dreamed of you for the first time, and heard your laughter, it was all I could think of. When I finally met you for the first time, the person who matched the delightful sound that had bewitched me, the freckles on your face, the bluest eyes I've ever seen, the sharpest wit I’ve even encountered, everything that you are - my world turned on its axis. It was crystal clear to me from almost day one, that if I was lucky, there’d be a day I'd be standing on an altar with you. I can't put it in words how happy I am now to be here. I’m so lucky that you wanted me enough you agreed to this.”

“Of course I wanted you, you fool,” Billy mouthed silently, and laughed.

Steve smiled and continued: “You make me want to be a better person. You make me want to work less on the outside and more on the inside and give more of me and to love more.” He paused, and took a deep breath, averting his eyes from the paper, and letting it drop into the sand. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you. The love I feel for you is overwhelming and overflowing, and in its priority it has taken over everything else in my life. I want to give my everything to you every single day. No matter what waits ahead, I will be there with and for you, in sickness and in health. I want to have the family we've both dreamed of with you. And when the end comes, I want to be there with you, too."

“That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me,” Billy whispered only to Steve to hear, sniffling. “I don't think I can top that.”

Steve chuckled. “You're a writer. You'll do just fine.”

“Steve. The amount of love I have for you is simply ineffable. When I first met you I was sure I was living in a dream and sure that I was to wake up any moment. But I didn't. Because you weren't a dream. You were real, and you took me in as I am, with my flaws and all. I thought I had loved and been loved before, but I had never felt love so deep, so special, I have with you. You shower me with your affection every moment of every day, and you make sure I always know exactly how much you love me. Which is a lot." He paused to wipe the tears that were falling on Steve's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Maybe I could've lived a decent life if our paths had never crossed. But I'm happy they did, because without the light you shine into my life, I'd be lost in the dark. I can't imagine a life without you because while maybe we would be good alone, we're so much better together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to have a family with you, to grow old with you. And as you said it so beautifully, even in the end I want to be with you. I will be there, standing by your side and carrying you in return, whenever needed, in the brightest sunshine and in the darkest storm. Your love is all I want to be worthy of, every single day."

When Billy finished they were both swallowing hard.

Steve set his palm on Billy's cheek. "See, that wasn't so hard," he whispered his chin quivering.

After the ceremony, mandatory teary-eyed hugs and congratulations followed and then the wedding photos were taken on the very same beach.

"The rings?" the judge said.

Dustin handed Steve the rings. While putting the ring into Billy's finger he said the famous words of with this ring I thee wed. The platinum ring locked perfectly into the engagement ring.

Billy repeated the same with the plain platinum ring he set in Steve's finger.

"I pronounce you as wedded husbands. You may kiss," the judge said.

Steve pulled Billy into a tight hug and they kissed long and deep, their loved ones cheering and applauding around them.

When the photographer had taken enough shots to work with Steve took Billy's hand, and kissed his knuckles. "I arranged something small just for the two of us in the bridal suite...if you're interested?"

Billy chuckled. "Oh you did? Couldn't wait until evening" Billy asked with a lilt in his voice. "Why am I now surprised."

"Have I become that predictable already?" Steve grinned.

"At this pace, husband, you gotta up the Ruining Billy game quick or I'll get bored before we’ve been married even for a week."

"Well, then we should stop by the garage first to get you from thinking that."

"You want to take me for a ride?"

"Well, I do have a ride planned for you this afternoon, but not this one. Come."

They walked into the hotel garage hand in hand. Since most of the guests for the party in the evening had already arrived, it was full – of very expensive cars. They walked into the very end of the garage where two cars were parked. Steve's Merc, and another one covered with a dark gray tarp that had a massive white bow with a bouquet of sunflowers on the bonnet.

"No fucking way. You didn't," Billy gasped. “Why did you spend money on yet another car?”

"You don't even yet know what it is!"

"It's some super expensive muscle car because you know I love those."

"Well, remove the tarp and see for yourself," Steve said amused.

Billy walked to the car, and traced the shape of the bonnet and the hood with his hand. “It's low. And the shapes aren't exactly something new. Also the bonnet is too long for a 21st century car. And I have a feeling I've seen one like this before...” He looked at Steve, who had a ridiculously wide grin on his face. Billy shook his head, amused, and took the bouquet off the hood, then the bow. Then he started to pull the tarp off. “Fuck me! It’s a 70‘s Camaro! I used to have one exactly like this,” he gasped out loud as he kept pulling the tarp off the car. Once it was all exposed, he walked around it admiring the midnight blue pearl color that shined in different pearly blue shades from every angle. When he reached the trunk and saw the license plate, he stopped and looked at Steve, tears brimming his eyes. “Oh, baby,” he breathed. He took a few deep breaths to try to keep the tears from falling. Yet he failed. “She's my old car. How did you find her?”

“I have my ways,” Steve said walking to Billy and wrapped his arms around him. “Do you like it?”

Billy glanced at Steve. “Her. It's a her,” he scolded Steve playfully.

“Okay then. Do you like her new outfit?”

“She's beautiful. I assume she's fully restored?”

“Of course she is. Wanna hear how she purrs?” Steve asked, dangling the keys in front of Billy.

Billy took the keys and opened the driver’s side door. The interior was darker shade of blue than it used to be, but otherwise everything was exactly how Billy remembered it. He sat on the driver's seat, smiling his widest smile. “Man, you even had the radio restored to the original eight track!”

Steve walked to Billy and leaned to the hood with his arm. “No, actually it just looks like it. It connects to your phone with Bluetooth, and as you can see...” he said reaching down to the key and turned the power on, “you can control the songs by turning the knob that was used for searching radio stations left or right. The shop that took care of her wouldn't alter the steering wheel to add controls there, so this was the next best thing.”

Billy laughed. “This is absurd...”

“Go ahead, start her.”

Billy turned the key, and the car roared to life. He closed his eyes and lifted his hand from the wheel and pulled up his sleeve to show Steve the goosebumps hearing the engine lifted on his skin.

"So you like my little wedding present? Was it boring?”

“At least you just proved yourself not to be boring.”

“Oh, at least I'm not boring? That's all?” Steve said, mock-offended.

Billy bit his lip. “Okay, maybe you're the best husband in the world,” he mumbled.

Steve leaned further down in the car smiling a smug smile. “I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat?”

“Wanna fuck in here?” Billy asked biting his lip seductively.

“Hey, no evading the question! Okay, sure, yes, now that you brought it up we could do that too, but I need to hear those magic words first.”

Billy leaned his head to the backrest and licked his lips. “You're the best husband in the world,” he drawled and smiled. “Happy?”

Steve smiled, and walked to the other side of the car, opening the door and sitting down.

Billy let out a laugh. “You really want to have sex here in this cramped space? On her pristine leather seats?”

“Where else?” Steve asked, brushing Billy's thigh with his hand, finally pushing it between his thighs. “Wouldn’t she be the most appropriate place to have sex for the first time as a married couple?”

“Yeah, she actually would be,” Billy moaned.

“Good. Because I told the guard to lock the garage doors and not to let anyone in for an hour once we got here. Also,” Steve whispered, took his hand away from Billy's crotch and leaned behind the driver’s seat, “I had these brought in.” He pulled out two small bottles of champagne and a small container of strawberries. “Strawberries, because they're your favourite, and something to skol with. Don't worry, it's alcohol-free."

“I was looking for something more flashy from you to start our marriage, but I’ll take this."

“You’ll take it?” Steve asked, incredulous.

“Like I said, you have to up your Ruining Billy game to keep me interested.” Billy trailed the stitches on the wheel with his fingers. “Though she’s a pretty good start,” he sighed.

Steve rolled his eyes as he opened the bottles.

Billy turned on the seat as much as he could to face Steve and leaned in, laughing. “I’m just kidding, baby,” he whispered, and pecked Steve's cheek. “You’re amazing. One of a kind. My husband.”

Steve smiled a crooked smile, and handed Billy the other bottle.

Steve raised his bottle "To us."

Billy smiled and clinked his bottle on Steve's. "To us."

#harringrove fic #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #billy x steve #billy hargrove needs a hug #dream a little dream of me #suometar writes #fluffy fluff fluff

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edwardpinestar · 1 year

Note

Hey,

Can I request a fluff deathpuss wedding or honeymoon fic? Since you've gotten a few requesting fic for your angsty au's, thought you'd appreciate one that's more light hearted.

Most definitely! I do have to admit, as much as I love the angst, it can get a bit tiring after a while, so some good old fluff is a most appreciated pick-me-up. Sorry for taking so very long with this, though.

Posted this on AO3 too!

It was sunset.

Soft, pink and orange light filtered through delicate, pink cherry blossom trees, the flowers and petals of which had drifted down from abudent trees, to blanket the cobbled path the trees hugged the side of. The air was warm, with a refreshing, slight breeze, and in the sky, there where smatterings of fluffy white clouds coloured pastel by the sinking sun. The subtle, life-filled smell of spring filled the air, fresh and green.

Two cats and a dog walked down the path.

One, a black and white, tuxedo molly, was dressed in a soft pink suit, with a caplet over the shoulder, the left lapel pinned by a red rose, and neatly pressed pants, which were tucked into tall white boots that had a wedged heels. She had her arm linked with the cat beside her, and a faint, fond smile on her face.

The dog, a small chihuahua pup, was bouncing alongside excitedly, his tail wagging a mile-a-minute, tongue lolling out as he panted. He was dressed the same colours as the tuxedo cat, in a little suit jacket, with a rose on the lapel, and a red bowtie around his neck. He looked as though his excitement was barely contained, but kept slow pace with the two cats.

The third of the party, standing between the molly and pup, was a ginger tabby cat. He, unlike the others, wore white. The floor length gown he wore was fluffy, whimsical tulle, its skirt puffed out, with off the shoulder, billowing bishops sleeves that tapered around his forearm to look as though they wrapped and twisted around his arms. The bodice had flower embroidery, which spread down to the outerlayer skirt and dispersed the further down they went, and formed a sweetheart neckline in the sheer bodice, not extending over the sleeves. While his arm was linked through the crook of the molly's elbow, in both paws he held a beautiful bouquet of red roses, soft pink carnations and red moth orchids. He wore a silver circlet atop his head, around his ears, that resembeled vines, with silver roses, the centres of which were inlaid with deep red rubies, along it as a faux flower crown.

They walked in mutual anticipation, yet silence, as they rounded a corner on the winding path, and found themselves in an open clearing, fresh green grass still blanketed by flower petals. In the clearing, several cushioned benches sat, lined up to make a walkway to an arch adorning in many flowers, of all different colours, with reds and pinks being the most prominent. The benches were filled with people, dressed their finest, watching keenly as the three cats and dog made their way down the aisle. Soft, disembodied piano music filled the air, a peacefull, romantic song.

But Puss in Boots had eyes for none but the man standing at the end of the aisle, right in front of the archway.

The wolf wore a dress as well, his own tea-length, a white gown with the same fluffy whimsy as his approaching groom's. The skirt poofed out, and the sleeves were short and billowy, while lace, completely fingerless, elbow length gloves, embroidered with flowers and sheer where there were none, were on his forearms. His bodice had a plunging neckline, splitting down the centre of his chest until it reached a soft, pastel green sash he wore around his waist. Upon his legs, he wore a white wraps, which left the fronts of his hind paws exposed, and in his tall, thin ears, he wore a pair of gold and emerald earrings.

Puss felt his mouth grow dry at the sight, a soft blush colouring his cheeks as red eyes roamed over his body with the most besotted expression Puss had ever seen.

Another wolf, dark grey were Death was silver-furred, and silver where he was dark grey, just a bit shorter than Death, and dressed in a pastel green, short tulle dress, watched Death with the proud, fond look of a sister glad to see her brother in love, as Life so was for him.

As Puss stepped in front of Death, handing his bouquet off to Kitty, who, along with Perrito, stepped behind him, Death stooped low, almost kneeling, to be more on level with Puss. While the wolf was still taller than the tabby, Puss no longer had to crane his neck back to look into those mesmerising, gorgeous red eyes.

"Hola," Puss breathed out as, in oh-so gentle paws, Death took hold of Puss' paws, dwarfing them entirely, and yet using two to hold him.

Death raised the tabby's paws to his lips, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the backs of them. "Hola," he whispered back, his lips brushing against Puss' paws as he spoke, "Te ves hermoso."

Puss smiled, a bit shyly, the clear lipgloss Kitty and Fiona had insisted upon him wearing glittering in the setting sun. "Tu también lo haces," he replied, his eyes wandering Death with soft appreciation, soaking in every detail of the man before him. "I love you."

"Welcome, friends, family and all between," the officiant said, loudly for the small crowd, before Death could respond. Puss' eyes flickered briefly to her, before returning to his groom's eyes. "We've all gathered here, in this beautiful place, to witness something far more beautiful than it. We've gathered here to watch the beautiful union, of a deep, beautiful love, between Puss," the officiant gestured to the tabby, before gesturing to the wolf as she continued, "and Death."

Death gently rubbed the pads of Puss' paws with his thumb, his touch soft, yet still making sharp claws flex out involuntarily. "Now, I know neither of them want to dally- they are eager for that married life!" There was quiet laughter from the guests, and the officiant waited a moment for them to quieten down, before continuing, "So, we'll get onto the words Puss and Death are so eager to hear today. So, Puss, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Death in marriage?"

"I do," Puss answered firmly, smiling brightly up at his groom, hoping his sheer love and devotion was obvious in his eyes, which shone with unshed tears of overwhelming joy.

Death swallowed thickly, and carefully squeezed Puss' paws. "Lovely," the officant said with a smile, "And Death, do you come here freely and without-"

"I do," Death interrupted her, sounding a bit choked up. Puss bit back at gasp at how much emotion was in his voice, in his eyes. He had a burning inferno of love, but it did not burn- no, he kept Puss warm with his endless adoration, as he encased the cat within it.

The officiant laughed, as did the guests. "Eager, huh?" she joked, smiling at the couple. "Well, I suppose we ought to get to the vows then. Death, please repeat after me- I, Death, take you, Puss, to be my husband."

"I, Death, take you, Puss, to be my husband," Death repeated, shifting a bit to be closer to Puss.

The tabby cat tuned out the officiant as she spoke, focusing solely on Death's words as they passed his lips, his voice calm and lilting, yet rich with feeling. "I take you as you are, and will love you until time itself ends. I pledge to be by your side for the rest of eternity, through trials and tribulations, I will love you through it all. I am yours, just as much you are mine."

Puss bit his lip, a few tears streaking down his cheeks, as he felt butterflies in his belly like he did when he asked Death on their first date. He was grinning so wide, his cheeks hurt, but even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't wipe his smile away. "I, Puss, take you, Death, to be my husband," Puss dutifully parroted as he distantly heard the officiant speak.

Death's tail was wagging under his dress- Puss could see the fluffy tip popping just barely into view on either side, and the shape of its movement through his dress. "I take you as you are, and will forever be grateful for our love. I pledge to be by your side for however long time provides, and through struggles and ease alike, I will love you forevermore. I am yours, just as you are mine," Puss declared, his claws kneading into Death's paw as he spoke.

"Please present the bracelets," the officiant said, and three little kittens stepped forward, each with a paw on a red satin pillow. Perla, wearing a pretty, soft pink, poofy dress was on the left on Timoteo, who was in the middle, and was leaning into his side to make sure she was touching the pillow. Gonzalo, who was wearing a little suit, a bit like Kitty's, in the same colours as Perla, was doing the same. Timoteo was holding the pillow in both paws, and he wore a suit identical to his brother.

On the pillow, were two bracelets, one significantly larger than the other. They were both made of gold, and shaped to look like vines, with little gemstones within the hold of the vines. The smaller one, that looked more about the size of a ring than a necklace, had rubies and black pearls between the vines. The larger one, looking more like a choker necklace, had emeralds, and black pearls as well.

Reluctantly, the couple released each others paws, to grab a bracelet- Puss taking the larger one in both paws, and Death carefully hooking the smaller one with a claw to lift it. The three children stepped away, as the officiant began to speak again. "Your wedding bracelets are a symbol of your promise to one another. The bracelet, an unbroken and never ending circle, is a symbol of your eternal love."

"Death, as you place this bracelet on Puss' wrist, repeat these words after me; this bracelet symbolises my love for you and the commitments we made today. I will love you forever, I do swear." "Puss, mi sol," Death said as he took Puss' left paw in his, the cat shifting his hold of the much larger ring to his right paw. "This bracelet symbolises my love for you," as he spoke, he lined the bracelet up with the tabbty's paw, and slowly slid it up until it sat snug around his wrist, "and the commitments we made today. I will love you forever, I do swear."

Once his paw was released, Puss was immediately marvelling over the glittering jewellry, the weight and fit of it making his heart swell. "Te amo," Death murmured, before he slowly let go of Puss' paw, and held his left paw out for his own bracelet.

Puss grabbed the bracelet in both paws again, lifting it up from where he'd been holding it at his side. "Puss, as you place this bracelet on Death's wrist, repeat these words after me; this bracelet symbolises my love for you and the commitments we made today. I will love you forever, I do swear." And just as Death did, Puss quietly murmured to him, "Te amo."

"Death, mi luna," Puss began as he lined the bracelet up. "This bracelet symbolises my love for you and the commitments we made today." He pushed the bracelet onto his lover's wrist, until it sat snug, and left both paws on top as he stared into Death's eyes. "I will love you forever, I do swear."

"Puss and Death, you have come here today, and before friends and family, declared your love, commitment and devotion to one another," the officiant said, as Puss took a tiny shuffle closer. "You have given and recieved a bracelet as a symbol of your promises." Death dipped his head down a bit, getting his muzzle close to the tabby's face. "By the power of your love and commitment to each other, and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss!"

They moved in unison, Puss tilting his head and Death leaning into him, their lips pressing together in a soft, chaste kiss that held the heavy undertones of wanting more. Death put a paw on either side of Puss' waist, encasing the tabby's entire upper body in his fur and paw pads, as the cheers of the guests filled the clearly. Puss leaned back into Death's hold as the wolf slowly dipped him. And when their lips parted, eyes fluttering open and warm with starstruck love, they whispered in unison, just like they'd moved.

"Yo también te amo."

#fic request #deathpuss #pussdeath #death in boots #fluff #wedding #wedding fluff #puss in a dress #death in a dress #puss in boots #death puss in boots #ive only been to 2 weddings before #and i only remember 1 of those ceremonies so #sorry if its really inacurate #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #writing #posted on ao3 as well

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avantegarda · 2 years

Text

Well, guess what. Since at least one person asked me for more of my ridiculous Elven Broadway post , I have decided to deliver unto you the scenes from each of the comedies that get the biggest laugh. (I'll come back to the tragic ones later)

Brace yourselves!

-----------

Scene that get the most laughs in: Morning By The Lake

Enel: Interesting animal, that. I wouldn't care to get too close to it.

Imin: I think we should call it a coyote.

Enel: Why a coyote?

Imin: Well, it looks more like a coyote than anything else we've seen today.

---

Scene that gets the most laughs in: Bad For Business

Manyaro: With our wedding only six months away, now you tell me you no longer love me?

Calarinde: Are you surprised it's taken me this long? I should never have agreed to marry you in the first place. You are a loud, ridiculous, arrogant peacock who constantly smells of a brewery.

Manyaro: Calla, darling, I work in a brewery.

Calarinde: But must you bathe there?

---

Scene that gets the most laughs in: The Lady And The Vagabond

(Evening, at the banquet table)

Arniel: Lord Dornlim, forgive me for asking, but are you ever not hungry?

Dornlim: Naturally. Occasionally, I am asleep.

(Calendon enters, approaches Dornlim, and taps him on the shoulder. Without looking, Dornlim raises an arm and punches Calendon in the face. Realizing what he's done, he leaps to his feet)

Dornlim: Oh, damn it all. Sorry, mate, when someone comes up behind me, my instincts kick in. Good thing I left my knife at home, eh?

Calendon: (on floor, holding bloody nose) I duppose do.

Arniel: (smitten) My goodness, you're strong.

---

Scene that gets the most laughs in: Holiday In Armenelos

(Please note that as Greek accent::English, Adunaic accent::Quenya)

Finyame: (frantically) She can't have gone far, we were together one second ago... (to man at a food stall) Excuse me, sir, have you seen my wife? She's an elf, like me.

Man: What's she look like?

Finyame: She's tall and thin, and has blonde hair and green eyes, and is wearing a blue dress...

Man: Oh, yes, easy to find. Just look.

(Man gestures to passerby, many of whom are tall, blonde, and wearing blue)

Man: Why don't you say to me next time, "Hey, Naki, can you help me find a cloud? White, fluffy, lives in sky..."

Finyame: All right, I understand. But there's no need to be rude.

Man: Look, lady, don't worry. You can't find your wife, no problem, lots of elves here look just like her. Take your pick.

Finyame: (muttering) Humans are ridiculous.

#why did i write this? no idea #tolkien #silmarillion #hi i'm molly and i can't come up with elf names #i just toss some shit together

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mimilind · 1 year

Photo

A Yuletide Reunion in the Shire

Summary: In an alternate universe where the whole Fellowship – and Sméagol – survive and find happiness, Yuletide is coming up and Frodo invites them to a reunion in the Shire.

Pairings: Boromir x Nellas (less known Tolkien elf), Sméagol and Lol-Nani-Ogg (Drúedain OC), Legolas x Kat (human OC from modern Earth).

Word count: 3060 words

Note: This was originally written as a bonus chapter for my long fic Cat of the Fellowship but can be read standalone since it contains no spoilers (except that everyone lives – which it already says in the tags). If you want to know how they all survived you can read the fic. :)

Tags: Christmas fluff, Fellowship reunion, friendship, everyone lives AU, fix-it, some making out, pregnancy (only mentioned).

Image Credits: Old Christmas cards by Jenny Nyström

❈❈❈

A Yuletide Reunion in the Shire

In a jingle of bells, they arrived in Hobbiton shortly before Yule. Nellas and her husband’s sleigh was the most fancy one; it was of black wood with gold lanterns and comfortable seats covered in rabbit fur, and drawn by a pair of headstrong chestnut stallions she had named Fred and George after a tale from her friend Kat's world. They had bought the sleigh in Rohan when the chilly winter rain they started out in changed to a heavy snowfall and made it impossible for their carriage to go further.

Beside them traveled Kat, Legolas and Gimli in a simple sleigh pulled by the horse Arod, then came Aragorn and Arwen’s royal one (but still less fancy), and last in line followed the smallest one where only the noses of Lol-Nani-Ogg and Sméagol peeked out through thick furs and blankets. The sleighs were flanked by two war horses and their riders; the rangers Éowyn and Faramir.

The horses trotted along the main road through a sprinkle of fluffy snowflakes, breaths forming clouds in the frosty air.

“How lovely,” Kat exclaimed. “It looks like a Christmas card.”

“A what?” Boromir’s voice formed a cloud as well.

He was very handsome in a fur clad hood, eyes bright and cheeks pink from the chill. Nellas resisted an urge to cover his face with kisses while telling him over and over again how much she loved him. She was learning the fine art of self-control and figured she had become rather good at it the past year.

“It is a kind of letter but with a picture. In my world we would send them to each other this time of year and they looked just like this.” She indicated their surroundings with a gloved hand: the trees shrouded in white; a robin chirping in a branch; a group of hobbit children dressed in bright coats, scarves and hats laughing and playing in the deep snow.

“It is beautiful,” said Arwen. “Such a lovely town.”

The houses in Hobbiton were dome shaped with round doors and windows, and the largest, nicest one was situated on a hill. They tied the horses outside and opened the garden gate.

A hobbit had been clearing a path from the door to the road, now he looked up with a huge grin. “Oh!” He tossed the shovel aside and hurried down to greet them. “My goodness, you came. The whole Fellowship will be reunited at last!”

“Of course we came.” Boromir squatted so he could hug him.

“When you wrote about your wedding we just had to meet your wife and congratulate you belatedly,” Faramir added, squatting next to his brother.

“Well met, Samwise Gamgee,” said Aragorn, bowing elegantly.

“Strider! Uh, I mean, King Elessar! We didn’t dare hope you would be able to leave your responsibilities at court.”

He grinned. “To you, it will always be Strider, dear Sam. And I left Minas Tirith in the capable hands of my vice-steward. After all, I am king here as well and it is good to travel through one’s realm every once in a while.”

“Come, come, let's get you all inside. Mister Frodo will be thrilled, and my Rosie too, I’m sure. How was the journey?”

“Long.” Arwen yawned.

“Cold,” said Lol-Nani-Ogg from the depths of her hood.

“Fun,” Kat objected. “I love to see real winter again! In Ithilien it mostly rains this time of year.”

Frodo must have heard their voices, for the round door crashed open. “You came!” He nearly slipped down the stairs in his eagerness to join them. “You all came!”

A somewhat chaotic reunion ensued, with many hard hugs and happy exclamations of ‘long time, no see!’, ‘you look well!’, ‘has it really been more than a year already?’, and when they finally went inside there was another bustle as they crowded in the hallway, heads low under the hobbit sized ceiling while their outer garments and luggage were taken care of and rooms assigned.

At last everything was sorted and the guests urged to get changed and rest after their journey while the hosts prepared a festive meal.

Nellas curiously entered Boromir’s and her room. It was small and snug, with thick curtains, an open fireplace and a human sized bed that must have been bought specially for the occasion. The quilt on the bed was made of strips of fabric in many different colors sewn together, forming an abstract pattern.

“Shall we try the bed?” she suggested.

Boromir smiled. “Good idea.” Stretching out on his back, he bounced on it experimentally. “Mmm, soft. A nap is just what I need.”

She frowned. “I did not mean sleeping.”

“No? What did you mean then?”

“I meant–”

His hearty laughter interrupted her and she jumped on top of him, straddling his broad chest. “You knew what I meant from the beginning,” she accused.

“Aye.” His eyes sparkled with mirth.

“You are always teasing me.” She tried to tickle him as punishment but failed because of how easily he caught her hands and held them.

“Always.”

“Lucky for you I love you anyway.”

“I do not deserve it.” Still with her hands caught between his, he flipped her on her back and locked her arms above the head. “Now, were we going to try the bed?”

“Yes, please.” She closed her eyes expectantly as he cupped her face and covered her lips with his.

The kiss was intense from the beginning; Boromir’s emotions were always near the surface, especially his desire. As their lips moved together, he pressed himself against her with untamed passion while his large hands roamed her curves.

She reciprocated by stroking his shoulders, feeling hard muscle under the rough wool, and wished he would take his tunic off so she could revel in the sight of his bare chest.

Leaving her lips, he began a trail of needy kisses down her neck. His breath was cool against her heated skin, making her heart race and her body ache with want.

He reached her neckline and opened the first button. “I like this dress,” he mumbled huskily. There were buttons all the way to the hem.

“I… chose it… with you in mind…” she replied breathlessly as he popped them open one by one. “But now it is… your… turn… to undress.”

He pulled off his tunic and shirt in one swift motion. “My pleasure.”

She looked at him with admiration. “No. My pleasure.”

❈❈❈

Sméagol regarded the bountiful table suspiciously. “It is all cooked,” he whispered to his wife.

“I can see that, and don’t you dare be rude about it.” She gave his cheek a quick peck, taking the edge off the words.

The fat hobbit came over, carrying a plate laden with some whitish, fluffy mess. “I made mashed taters for you.”

Lol-Nani-Ogg gave Sméagol a warning look. “Smell good and look good,” she said in broken Westron. She had never bothered to learn that language entirely since they mostly kept to themselves, and at home they spoke Drúedain.

Sméagol forced a polite smile. “Yess, very nice.”

The hobbit had noticed his wry face and his grin became broad. “I’m only teasing you. Look, here is Rosie with your fish – raw and wriggling, just the way you like it.”

Sméagol regarded the plate of glistening trouts hungrily, relieved and pleasantly surprised. Turning back to the fat… no, to Sam, he said with warmth: “Thank you. We lovess fish.”

Sam patted his back. “Don’t mention it.”

More guests were filing in now, the taller ones bending their heads to pass through the doorway. Luckily the room was spacious and the table large.

Last of all entered Merry and Pippin, neighbors of Master Frodo. Sméagol didn’t know them very well, but they had been in the Fellowship too and seemed quite popular with the others for they caused a loud and hearty round of greetings.

When at last they were done and everyone was seated there was still one empty chair. The nice king looked at it, eyes brightening expectantly. “Is that for…?”

Frodo beamed at him. “Yes, indeed.”

The door opened a final time and a bearded old man walked in, hitting his head first in the door beam and then in the chandelier. “Why, your house keeps getting smaller, Frodo!” he grumbled.

‘Gandalf!’ exclaimed everyone – except for the elves, who exclaimed ‘Mithrandir!’. So typical of their kind, always wanting to be different.

The wizard’s arrival meant more greetings. Sméagol glanced at the fish plate, stomach growling. Was it never time to eat? He was starting to regret accepting Master Frodo’s invitation. Only to think, he could have been nicely tucked in at home with his wife, having all the rice-and-raw-fish cakes he could eat and perhaps taking a stroll by the river in search of birds’ eggs, but instead he was here among strangers, ravenous and feeling out of place.

Frodo rose, calling forth silence by tapping his glass with a knife. “I bid you welcome to Bag End and to this reunion. I am overwhelmed and happy all of you made it here! It feels just like when the Fellowship was formed, but even better now with the addition of so many new friends. But, no more talking; you must be starving, so without further ado: let us eat!”

Finally! Sméagol sent the master a grateful look and grabbed a slippery trout, sinking his sharp teeth into the tender meat.

The meal became more pleasant than Sméagol had anticipated; the food and drink soon revived him, and the others took turns talking about their adventures so nobody seemed to mind his silence. Part of their tales were quite interesting too, particularly the one concerning the master and Sam. Apparently the evil wizard Saruman had escaped from his tower after the war and settled here in Bag End, from where he did plenty of mischief in the country before Frodo and his friends returned. But they fought him bravely, leading hundreds of hobbits to battle and finally driving him out. In the end Saruman’s own servant sliced his throat before he too was killed, and that had been the end of what was now known as the Scouring of the Shire.

This had happened a month or so before Yule the previous year, and during spring the hobbits had worked hard to rebuild everything and restore the broken land. Sam had spread dirt that was a gift from the elf queen Galadriel, and thanks to its elven magic this year’s harvest had been the most bountiful ever in the history of the Shire.

“And part of that is what you are eating now,” he said, indicating his beloved mash.

“The potatoes are really quite good, love,” whispered Lol-Nani-Ogg. “You should try them.”

Tentatively Sméagol took a small spoon. The white fluff melted on his tongue and to his surprise the mellow flavor was really pleasant, with a perfect balance of salt and butter.

He sneaked a look across the table. Sure enough Sam was watching him with a decidedly smug smirk.

“Not too bad,” Sméagol grudgingly admitted. “But we likess fish better.”

“We do,” agreed his wife, flashing him one of her radiant smiles that always filled his chest with happy flutters. He would never understand what she saw in him, but he was not complaining. Though he knew he didn’t deserve it, the Creator had blessed him in his old age and made him a very lucky man.

When everyone had eaten their fill they moved the chairs closer to the fire and as evening fell they continued talking. Sam served mulled wine and Kat – Legolas’ strange wife who used to be a cat – told them a Yule tale about a child in her world that was the son of the Creator, and something about a stable and a star.

“... and later he was killed as punishment for our crimes. So now everyone has been forgiven for all the bad we ever did, or will do in the future.”

“We are not from your world,” said Boromir. He looked a bit sad about that.

“I think it works in Middle-earth too. That the worlds have the same Creator.”

He smiled wistfully. “I would argue there are many who do not deserve pardon.” He didn’t say it, but Sméagol got the impression he was talking about himself.

“Nobody deserves it,” she agreed. “But we get it anyway.”

“I believe you,” said Boromir’s brother.

“And I,” said Lol-Nani-Ogg unexpectedly.

Sméagol felt his throat grow a little too tight as the face of his dead best friend floated up before his inner eye.

Forgiveness… could he really have that?

“Let’s tell riddles now,” said Pippin cheerfully, breaking the serious moment. “I can begin. When young I’m sweet in the sun, when middle-aged I make you gay and when old I’m valued more than ever. Who am I?” He winked and sipped his mulled wine.

“Peregrin Took, your timing is awful,” the wizard muttered, but not unfriendly.

The rest of the evening went by quickly and Sméagol could not recall many times he had enjoyed himself more. When he went to bed that night he reflected that he no longer regretted coming; he had almost forgotten how great it felt to have friends.

Exhausted after the eventful day, he dozed off with his wife in his arms and slept better than he had in years.

❈❈❈

A cold heap of snow hit Kat squarely in the shoulder. Darn elf; archers shouldn’t be allowed in snowball fights. His aim was uncanny.

“Twenty-two,” called Legolas’ smugly across the field.

“We’re still one ahead of you, lad,” shouted Gimli back at him, dodging as another ball was hurled his way. The dwarf used his own, special tactic; he preferred to catch his opponent and wrestle them down so he could pour fistfuls of snow directly in their face.

“Over here!” Éowyn waved for Kat to come down into a trench Boromir was making. She had nearly as good an aim as Legolas so she was a useful ally, and Boromir’s brute strength came in handy for the digging part.

Soon Team Éowyn had an effective battle machine going: Kat was speed-rolling hard balls, Boromir provided her with snow for building material and Éowyn launched a continuous barrage on the enemy so fast her gloves became a blur. At the other side, Legolas, Aragorn, Faramir and Nellas were forced to huddle in their snow fort, unable to fight back in the relentless bombardment.

This was Gimli’s cue. Sneakily he advanced on them from behind and pounced on Legolas. “Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

It would have ended with victory for Team Éowyn if not the hobbit team had unexpectedly chosen that moment to attack. Everyone had forgotten about them because they had spent so long digging snow tunnels rather than engaging in the war.

“For the Shire!” they yelled in one voice, jumping up from the ground in several places at once. Between themselves, Frodo, Sam, Rosie, Merry and Pippin easily bested the surprised enemy leaders and had soon poured so much snow down their clothes they became chilled to the bone.

“I yield,” said Boromir between chattering teeth.

“Me too,” said Aragorn.

“I count forty hits for the Shire,” said Merry.

“Only thirty-five for us.” Gimli shook icicles from his beard.

“Victory!” yelled Pippin, making a funny little dance. “Well done, team.”

Legolas left his protective fort and stretched out a damp, gloved hand to Kat. “Peace?”

“Just a moment…” She swiftly produced the snowball she had kept hidden behind her back and threw it squarely in his chest. “There. Even!”

“Sneaky.” He caught her in a wet hug and kissed her with cold lips.

“Come everyone, let's go in and have a second breakfast,” said Frodo. “I prepared chicken soup before we went out; it should be ready now.”

When they hustled inside, they found Gandalf, Arwen, Sméagol and Lol-Nani-Ogg comfortably drinking tea by the fire.

The wizard gave the disheveled, shivering warriors a disapproving look. “Fools.”

“Foolissh, indeed,” Sméagol huffed. “We doesn’t like ssnow.”

After a change of clothes and with her belly full of hot soup, Kat joined the group by the fireplace, taking a seat in Legolas’ lap to save chairs.

Her heart felt full as well; full of warmth and love, and completely devoid of the stress she remembered from every Christmas in her old world. Here nobody bothered about costly presents or advanced home decorations. She could simply be. Just enjoy the peaceful silence, the pleasant company and her husband’s warm, comforting arms holding her close. It was all she needed.

Kat rested her head against Legolas’ chest, listening to his calm heartbeat and the occasional crackle from the fire. Her limbs were pleasantly tired after the morning’s snowball fight.

After a while her eyes landed on Rosie Cotton. Sam’s wife was a charming hobbit lady, pretty and cheerful, and had entertained the others with an endless supply of riddles yesterday. But didn’t her stomach look slightly swollen? Under the thick winter clothes it was hard to see clearly.

She sent a silent thought to Legolas via the renewed mental connection they had discovered on the wedding night: Don’t you think Rosie looks a bit on the heavy side? Bellywise, I mean.

Aye, they are expecting. Sam told me yesterday.

And you didn’t tell me? she scolded.

I was busy.

Kat had to grin at that; the previous night had been rather intense. The crackling fire, warm colors and low ceiling in their cozy room had kindled romantic feelings.

She thought more about that night, eyes still lingering on Rosie’s discreet bump. As usual they had taken measures to prevent a such, but maybe…

I suppose it’s a good time to have a baby now that there is peace in the world, she thought tentatively.

Legolas' arms tightened around her and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. Aye, it is a good time.

I have suddenly become a bit tired. She faked a yawn. Time for an afternoon nap?

Good idea. He gave her forehead a soft peck.

Shortly thereafter they left together, hand in hand, to share another moment of sweet love and hot passion – this time without precautions.

❈❈❈

A/N:

Happy holidays! This is a standalone bonus chapter for my long fic Cat of the Fellowship. Welcome to read the full story on AO3 or FFN if you like. :)

#boromir #boromir x oc #legolas #legolas x oc #gollum #smeagol #smeagol x oc #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #christmas fanfiction #christmas fluff #fellowship reunion #everybody lives au #fix it #friendship #fluff #Cat of the Fellowship

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quirrrky · 2 years

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🔮 @hatchii-meji—who will you marry? 🔮

DISCLAIMER: Please keep in mind that this reading is just for fun! If anything resonates, then it’s even more fun! 😊 Also, please don’t be mad at me if you don’t get your selfship characters 🥺

🔮 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲

the high priestess, knight of wands, queen of cups, page of wands, boat teheee, your future husband is a very passionate and charismatic person. He’s that one person that when he enters the room, people will fin him attractive. No exaggeration like he’ll definitely catch attention and I’m seeing people talking about him. He’s very in tuned with his emotions and can be very romantic. When in love, he can be quite motherly as well. Very caring and nurturing individual. He is a highly intuitive person. He may have a sharp intuition regarding what other people feel. He can pick up if you’re feeling upset and or sad. This person is not afraid of strong emotions. In fact, he may have intense emotions as well. He’s very expressive though. That’s why whatever negative feelings he may have can dissipate in an instant because he’s open and free in expressing them. He’ll be very gentle with you and your emotions. The type of lover who will never want to see you sad because it makes him sad too.

ace of wands, queen of wands, queen of pentacles Your future husband can be very flirty. He’s charming and he knows it. He may be the type to not keep a relationship until you, but I don’t see this person as non-committal or cheater. It’s just that he’s too focused on building his career sometimes or some of his ex-partners may easily get insecure by the attention he’s getting from people.

camera, passion, palm tree, 8 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles, 6 of pentacles, 6 of wands Your relationship will be very stable and secure. Trust will be very important for the both of you though like as I’ve mentioned above, your future husband might have a lot of people admiring/looking at him and he will be needing you to trust him that he has no one in his eyes but you uwu I’m not even kidding. The visual cards that dropped for you had the masculine looking after and admiring feminine. It seems that your hubby will never get tired of courting you everyday. Like he will never skip a beat in letting you know how much he loves you and you’re the only one for him. You will take a lot of trips and traveling with your future hubby and there will be so much passion and chemistry between the two of you. I see him getting a different kind of satisfaction whenever he pleases you and makes you blush. You guys 🥺😍

💒- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

the cloud, the snow, the fiery, the sand, the tower, ace of cups, knight of cups, six of cups, 2 of pentacles, justice You will feel very happy during your wedding like you were in a cloud 9. You’ll feel very fluffy inside while your future husband will be very excited and hyped up about this. He’ll be very confident about this day with you because finally he can be with you already...like officially you’re husband and wife.

You’ll wear a beautiful white dress. There will be a lot of whites in this wedding regardless of your culture or it can simply signify the purity of your feelings for each other. Purity has so much significance in this with wedding. Pure love is what I’m perceiving like you and your future husband will marry because you love each other. It’s that simple. No more complications. You, your person or both of you might cry during the ceremony. The ambience will be very soft and romantic. Like powder and white colors like as I’ve mentioned. You will be laughing and feeling carefree like your wedding will bring back the childhood happiness you both might’ve forgotten and it will seem like a fairytale. Not in a grandeur way fairytale but the sweet kind of fairytale. This wedding is just giving me the feels of softcore aesthetic uwu.... Your hubby will be very sweet and romantic to you like I can see him whispering something flirtatious or funny in your ear during the reception lmao... Overall a very sweet and cute wedding you’ll have 💗

💍 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞/𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫

-/ honestly,,,when I saw the first twi cards I thought it’s gonna be sugawara energy but when the others drop down, I think I can say for 90% your future hubby has an oikawa energy about him tho I still sense a little of sugawara like if he’ll end up being an introvert he still has that aura where everybody finds him refreshing <333 I love your person’s energy 💗

🔮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

#🔮—future spouse #💌 hatchii-meji

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sanctificetur · 2 years

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t1. francis & alayne.

as francis wakes up in the midnight hour, he decided to go shopping. yet first, he went over to the window near his bed to look outside, slender fingers grasping into the light brown curtains shivering in a veiled version of outside.

it’s already light, and the stars ran away with the night.

with it blocking out most of the sunlight. he sees a whole mountainous congestion of buildings below and above, which depresses him a little, while also being in awe that he was in a place where he could travel with ease in his independence. as he continues savouring the wondrous sight with his eyes closed in bliss, the light glows a little deeper yellow behind his eyes. and he opens.

what does he see in the sky? as he lifts his eyes up? and surrounding buildings? white fluffy cloud shapes in blue sky. as he peers closer to the window, the distant sun suddenly pierces his eyes -- red starting to mix in with his subconscious darkening light the whites around the black-blue pupil ; and sunny memory sudden inflects on his conscious.

and he has to lower his eyes briefly from the sudden burst of light. better not look too close, he thinks. just at a distance at my own time and pace. flying into and rising with the sun... above & below cloud sections ; giant cloud shapes surrounding mini drfiting apart cloud tufts shaped like a silver fish. what other shapes of memory does the vision of looking outside reminds me of ... white feathers.

he dresses and walks into the shopping centre, the two part doors sliding open for him as he nears. he was taking a break from his musical studies, as he was feeling quite stressed. the reason he was going here was to browse for new clothes. which clothes. he ponders. he had been feeling confusion on new styles, as he taps his chin thoughtfully while looking at his giant clothes walk in closet. he eventually decides on a black ribbed turtleneck, to protect himself from the slightly chilly atmosphere in terms of a little wind as it was only eighteen degrees sunny and a bit windy ; but not needing to don his faux fur lined tan coat of beautiful flirtation.

as he walks in, a neon orange and black sign glowing on edges jumps at corner of his eye, and he shields eyes momentarily from sudden visual. he had been feeling a spiking onslaught of strange visions of...something. a tree bare branched in the forest... he shakes his head, disliking the accompanying hole pattern surrounding the sign, ‘Stark’s stock’. He thinks, not very nicely, who would choose this colour scheme? i could do so much better... is the world out to get me? poking holes in my subconscious much? like a madman, i sing my laurels... yet what are the true laurels of my soul?

he was the prodigal son, the son his mother catherine loved above all else. he was a prince, future king of France... What?! he shakes his head, that was crazy!! he wasn’t that special… Yet then he thinks again with honouring his right brain — and the memory continues —- Mother had said he had a wild imagination, in a fond tone, patting his gold massy curls with crowned green leaves … when he was a child.

And now, the duties were even more enforced as he was growing into his own person, he was to be sovereign king over this country of France. They weren’t going to be around forever. And France was fickle, enemies everywhere — Scotland was invading — and his duty to protect ; but he had no marriage prospects as of yet? Catherine says, “training to be king and finding a girl to wed and have heirs is paramount into securing a strong future”. But, she says, of course, “you can continue your creative hobbies -- as long as you’re happy.” only on the side ; just for fun…

as he steps in and searches, alayne is arranging stuff on white metal shelving ; the cold metal burns — I’m burning for you — through her dark pink purple sweater : buffed enough to withhold a plethora of items. she is in the stationery aisle, until francis asks her, “hello, ma’am. May I find the glassware section?”

Francis then tosses the gold ribbon in haste into the colouring book stack, “I have to get to my violin lesson to practice the song Sleep Sugar ; it’s nearly two pm ” soft edged exclamation ; the top cover representing a mosaic colourful parrot.

Alayne’s pants depict an infinity symbol on black and white tarot carded window ; none of them facing inside ; yet the infinity symbol? and she wears a ruffled blouse, with a purple flower necklace with M trinket in centre.

Francis and Alayne go to a cafe for lunch. They go to a window seat, the green wild vines ensnaring the window, and a sunflower patterned curtain shivers from the hot breathy fight between the two patrons before them. it involved what meal to order at first.

Francis rolls his eyes, his light feathered lashes dancing around his eyes,

“if you’re a bird, I’m a bird. but we are also strange birds.”

“I do not eat like a bird!” Alayne says in annoyed tone, in response to Francis teasing her.

They eventually compromise in meal, sparking an initiation of better days to come. She raises her hand to order food, rather steadfast in her gesture ; although still shaking a little from when… he rescued her from drowning in sea in past life… wait, where did that thought come from?? they technically only knew each other for a short time…

Half an hour later … a waitress wearing the name-tag: Athena bustles up to their table, and places a large coloured flower decorated plate : two fluffy clouds of rice bowls for each ; stir fry of scrambled eggs, green veg, light pink salmon… they thanked her, and in the moment of picking up and delving in with their individual chopsticks, with a big public spoon on the dish plate ( to spoon from dish at their own time and pace ; not fall ill from the other’s saliva — heliobacter.

they continue with their conversation, while eating, as well as just admiring the beauty of the world in their surroundings… Separate posts for new scenarios, they say, looking down at the triskelion medallion…

#post 1 : Francis and Alayne #francis ic.#writing.

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fandomficsnstuff · 21 days

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Wolves And Hounds-9

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry you see it that way-”

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

“Punishment?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon they arrived at the new chambers, the handmaidens waiting inside and when they saw the pair arrive, one got a brush ready, the two of them preparing to… well… prepare her for bed. As they walked over to begin help her undo everything, Sandor walked over and damn near slapped them away “fuck off!” he growled, the women hurrying out and Karliah couldn’t stop shaking, her head held high yet tears formed in her eyes as he stood behind her, her fists clenched, as was her jaw, but she was still shaking like a leaf as the door shut, leaving them alone in the room. He reached up and began to undo the laces on her dress, hearing her whimper quietly, eyes shut tightly, clearly bracing herself for the worst night of her life. Sandor scoffed and continued in annoyance until she would be able to get out of the dress herself, stepping back and looking around the room, Karliah turning around to stare at him with confusion and wide eyes, tears running down her cheeks in steady streams and he frowned at the sight “I’m not my brother” he grumbled before taking off that blasted jacket and vest that made him look like some noble shit. He went behind a divider and soon emerged in casual and loose breeches and a tunic, laying himself down on the bed with grunt, eyes already closed and Karliah was still shaking as she watched him, approaching hesitantly, peering at up at him on the bed, his hand over his stomach, one leg still over the edge of the bed, the candle on the table next to him still lit.

She let out a shaky breath before closing her eyes, taking a moment to steady herself before getting herself ready for bed. Once she was in her nightwear, she watched him and the empty spot next to him on the bed, her heart racing with confusion and she hesitantly approached his side. She felt tiny next to him. Tiny and weak and meek and useless. She might as well have been a child, afraid of her own shadow, and she loathed how that made her feel. So, in defiance of that little girl who was oh so frightened by the big scary shadow, she made sure she had her dagger strapped to her calf, just under her knee, and walked up to the bed on as sure feet as possible, pulling the covers back, blowing out the candle before getting under the covers, settling down on her side, unaware that Sandor had opened a single eye to watch her, his eyes moving over her form, her brown hair much longer now that it was unbraided and he leaned up, blew out the candle and did as her, moving to lay on his side with his back to her, both of them trying to get some sleep while keeping as much distance as possible.

#got #game of thrones #got fic #game of thrones fanfic #karliah stark #sandor x oc #sandor clegane #sandor x karliah #Wolves And Hounds

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rangikuxmatsumoto · 5 months

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He's definitely going to need to cut down some after this.

Most would be oblivious to such holiday, but in several years of their relationship, it has certainly become a habit of sorts to find these odd festivities as special excuses to celebrate. This time, the blond would be persuaded (read: rushed) into entering her Gigai - meaning, this time it took place in the World of the Living. The amount of organization he's done for this... Definitely wasn't enough. But such, are worries for later.

Standing in-front of a spacious bath room, a large tub in the middle with water still running; bubbles and foam forming progressively, overflowing from the spacious tub's edges as Ikkaku opted to casually ignore the overflowing water levels. God bless the World of the Living and their wacky solutions to problem. "Did you know?" He started, taking the lead and removing his clothes in one swoop; lacking his Fundoshi, as he naturally prepared for this occasion more than she had - as usual, leaving the details to be a surprise of sorts. "Today's bubble bath day!"

An odd thing to celebrate, certainly. Especially considering the concept barely existed, far as he was concerned. But it was highly likely the Female Shinigami Association knew more about it than, well, most anybody else. Definitely not anyone in the 11th. Promptly taking her hand in his, the bald man dipped in the hot water, wincing at the temperature. Nothing he wasn't used to through hot springs, but still unpleasant upon initial entry. "Never knew what we're gettin' into, so. Consider yourself lucky enough to have this first with me!" He declared, plopping himself comfortably into the water - causing the level to rise further. Perhaps splashing some on his girlfriend in the process. Definitely not by choice.

Fine. Maybe by choice.

A luxurious hotel reserved in the World of the Living, with the best facility his lackluster research skills could allow. A big hit to his wallet? Absolutely. Worth it? Absolutely. ...Hopefully. So far, this bubble bath thing wasn't too exciting. But still -- "Happy Bubble Bath Day, or whatever. Now get in!"

Unprompted Asks | Always Accepting

Most couples celebrated their anniversary – if they were the sentimental sort, perhaps even ‘their first kiss’, but dating anniversaries gave way to wedding anniversaries. There were of course the holidays designed for couples, Valentine’s Day, White Day. And of course, couple or not, one always celebrated birthdays. But there were so many holidays to celebrate – some stranger than others – and between the two of them, they managed to make each one more memorable and meaningful than the last.

Hands firmly held in one another’s grasps she trailed a step behind him as he led her down the street in the World of the Living. Most of their silly celebrations didn’t take them here – was there a National Shopping Day? Were they going shopping? Her hopes of a shopping spree were slowly being dashed as they passed by store after store without stopping. Not even for that absolutely adorable dress on the mannequin in the window!

Ugh. On the way back, they were definitely stopping.

Nothing had prepared her for him, leading her into the grandest hotel she had ever laid her eyes on – nor the luxurious spa like set up of the bathroom. Water cascaded down the side of the tub but didn’t spill out upon the marble floor – only the fallen heaps of bubbles sat like fluffy white clouds plucked from the sky to adorn the space. It was a blink, and you’d miss it moment, the way he disrobed so effortlessly, once again leading her towards the intended destination.

“Bubble bath day…” She remarked, a sly little smirk growing on her features as he eased into the hot water. His presence disrupted the water, more spilling out, splashing the hem of her long skirt. “All this for a bubble bath…” Still, she wasn’t about to complain, not when he had clearly gone through quite the trouble to arrange all this for them. Clothing was effortlessly discarded before she stepped forth, placing a hand upon his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped in. The water was certainly warm and after a brief adjustment she sank down, letting the bubbles pool around her chest and up to her chin.

Hands swept small piles of bubbles into a larger collection before her hands dipped under the water to scoop them up into her palms, the free water spilled as she moved over to gently place the crown of bubbles upon his head before she shifted, sinking down into his lap, back against his chest, head lulling upon his shoulder as her eyes fell half closed.

“Happy Bubble Bath Day, Ikkaku.”

#ꜱʜɪᴘ; ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇɴᴅɢᴀᴍᴇ | [ɪᴋᴋᴀʀᴀɴ]#rp;#madaramee;

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borathae · 3 years

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↳ Index [Chapter 01 - I Hate You]

Warnings: alcohol consumption, they hate each other, nudity

Wordcount: 11.4k

You peel your eyes open, already regretting it the moment bright sunlight blinds your vision. You groan in annoyance, rolling onto your side to escape the sunrays hitting your face. Something you regret doing as well as you are now facing a heart-eyed and smiling Jungkook.

“Good morning beautiful”, he whispers, brushing his fingertips down the bridge of your nose.

“Kook. Don’t”, you warn, rolling onto your back to escape his touch.

But to no avail. He follows you, now hovering over you with his elbows on each side of your head and a big grin on his disgustingly handsome face. His naked chest brushes your equally bare one with every breath he takes, eliciting goosebumps on your skin.

“Why?” he pats his eyelashes at you in confusion, “still have insecurities about your ruffled bed hair? After all those months together?” he teases, running his fingers through your messy hair softly.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“Shut up”, you gently push at his chest.

It makes him grin, well, smirk more so, his eyes starting to sparkle even more than before.

“Fine if you wish”, he rasps as he cups your face to pull you into a hot kiss.

But before his lips meet yours, you turn your head away, making him kiss your cheek instead.

“I said don’t”, you warn.

His naked skin on yours doesn’t feel exciting anymore, it feels suffocating. Or maybe it is because your whole body wants to feel his’, every nerve in your body craves his touch and every cell in your brain screams at you to just give in, do you feel like suffocating.

Jungkook pulls away, clearly confused and hurt.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, despite knowing the answer already.

“You know what’s wrong”, you growl, staring at the ceiling now that Jungkook had rolled off your body and his face isn’t able to distract you anymore.

“Don’t think about it. We still have time. One day, just let me distract you for today and we’ll see about tomorrow when tomorrow comes, not anytime sooner”, he says, already tracing his fingers up and down your arm again.

But you only listen to him half heartedly. Your thoughts are racing with unlived memories of tomorrow.

“Kim fucking Taehyung”, you scoff.

Jungkook’s fingers come to a halt, his jaw clenches.

“Out of all the rich sons my father wants to expand his fortune with, it has to be Kim motherfucking Taehyung”, you groan, rubbing your eyes.

Jungkook grumbles your name in warning, swallowing down the lump which had formed in his dry throat. The morning wood, he had sported just seconds ago and had loved to put to good use, is definitely gone by now.

“I have to marry Kim Taehyung. Can you believe that?” you laugh breathlessly, shaking your head before rolling your head to the side to look at Jungkook.

He is staring at you with cold eyes, grinding his teeth.

The lovely Sunday he had planned for you is definitely ruined now.

He knows it and he knows you know it too.

“Are you ready to go ma'am?“ your assistant asks you, entering your dressing room after having knocked three times. He is carrying a big bouquet of white and pink roses, smiling brightly at you.

You turn around and touch the top of your long white wedding dress. It feels soft under your fingertips, almost like you would imagine touching a fluffy cloud would feel like. You hate it, it shouldn’t feel good, it should feel like sandpaper or razors cutting your skin. Not like fairytales and happiness.

“Do I look ready?” you ask, wanting nothing more than for him to say no just so could have an excuse to rip that god awful dress off your body.

“You look beautiful ma’am. Mister Kim is so lucky”, he smiles, completely oblivious to your clenched jaw and sagging shoulders. Or at least that is what he lets you believe. Truth was, he knew exactly how you were feeling, but didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. So he pretend not to know.

“Thank you”, you mumble, playing with the golden ring on your finger.

Your brother had gotten it for you as his promise to always stay by your side no matter what will come. You look down at it, watching the light dance in the ruby stone. A small smile hushes over your lips, the ring is the only thing you genuinely enjoy right now.

“Let’s go now ma'am. Your brother is waiting for you”, your assistant says, offering you his hand to help you down the step on which you were currently standing.

You accept it, stepping down the unnecessarily high step. He hands you the bouquet of flowers, brushing his thumb over your skin in comfort. Secretly and quickly, but it is enough to show you that he cares enough to know.

The way to the limousine, which was parked right outside of your parents house, was silent. You were too lost in your own thoughts and your assistant was far too busy with trying to hold your long veil as high as possible so it wouldn’t get dirty. Not that you minded the silence, on the contrary at least you could wallow in self-pity in peace.

You are greeted with a proudly grinning Yoongi in the entrance hall. He is wearing a black suit with a burgundy red tie and a white shirt underneath. He looks like a proper gentleman, the image making you almost laugh. You know him wearing his floor long dressing gown and ugly fur slippers around the house, so seeing him all dressed-up, feels almost foreign to you. Oh how uncomfortable he must be right now.

“Wow you look beautiful”, Yoongi gasps.

“You think so? Thanks, I personally hate it”, you retort.

You can see Yoongi be lost for words for just a moment, as he swallows down what he wanted to say and looks at your assistant for help instead.

“Yeah”, he clears his throat awkwardly, “let’s go”, he decides on saying in the end, locking his arm with yours to lead you to the car.

Once inside your car, Yoongi on the backseat next to you and your assistant in the front, the suffocating feeling inside your chest gets only stronger. Yoongi, who had watched you bite on your nails for a good ten minutes now, finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Want some champagne?” he asks, offering you a glass of the sparkling alcohol.

“Thanks”, you say before gulping down the sour liquid in one-go, not once batting an eyelash.

“Whoa, take it easy there champion”, he gasps, holding onto your wrist to stop you from reaching for the bottle and pouring yourself another glass.

“Why? It’s not every day that your little sister gets married to someone she doesn’t even love. We have to celebrate this wonderful occasion”, you spit.

Yoongi sighs, combing his fingers through his black locks.

“You know”, he starts as he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his body, “I didn’t love Jiwoo at first either. For a fact I despised her. But now look at us, all happy and in love. I am sure you will feel the same for Taehyung one day.”

You know he means well, but just imagining feeling anything other than hatred for Kim Taehyung makes you want to gag.

“That’s different. Jiwoo is actually nice and turned out to be an amazing wife to you. But Taehyung, he is just so-“, you stop yourself for a moment just so you wouldn’t say the wrong thing right now, “-so not my type”, you say in the end.

“I’m sure he will be one day”, he pats your shoulder softly, giving you an encouraging smile.

“No. But let’s just say so for now”, you retort, feeling stubborn and not wanting to give Yoongi any kind of satisfaction.

Just as he says your name to start scolding you, the car comes to a sudden stop. The driver opens the little window, which separates you from the driver booth and just in the next moment your assistants face appears in the frame.

“We arrived”, he announces before getting out of the car to open the door for you and Yoongi.

You can already spot your father waiting for the two of you outside the building with a proud smile on his face. He raises his right hand to wave at you, calling out your brother’s name first before yours falls off his tongue. Would he look at you funny if you simply turned around this instant and fled the scene? You could easily do that. Take a shortcut through the flower beds, ruin your dress in the process and then hide in a far away café. Surely you would be faster than your father or your brother, you always have been. But before you could go through with your escape plan, you are by your father’s side, facing him with a clenched jaw.

“My darling daughter”, he says, meeting you in the middle of the staircase. He puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a loving squeeze, “look at you, even more beautiful than I had imagined”, he continues.

You force a smile to your face, bowing your head at him in thankfulness. He is never that nice. The feigned kindness makes your skin crawl.

“Thank you father, I have to agree my stylists did an amazing job today. At least now I can look my best whilst having to marry a complete stranger”, your fake smile grows.

Your father’s smile drops, his eyebrow crease.

“There is nothing that I can do here. Behave just like you were taught”, he warns, the loving tone in his voice is gone.

You scoff. You’re impressed, your father held up his façade longer than you had imagined. You know full well what would happen if you continued stepping out of line, just the thought alone scares you. So despite your tongue itching to throw another snarky remark at your father’s head, you mumble a quiet apology and keep your head low.

Your father, clearly happy with your behavior, pats your shoulder, smiling like nothing had happened.

“The company is so proud of you, my daughter. Come”, he says, taking your hand, “meet your husband”, he says as he leads you up the remaining stairs into the big venue.

You feel like throwing up.

Slow piano music starts to play the moment you enter, some classical piece you had never heard of before. Probably Bach or Beethoven, who cares, they all sound the same to you anyways. The guests are already standing when you step through the threshold of the ceremony hall. All eyes are on you, staring at you with as much admiration as jealousy. What are they jealous of? What is there that they could possibly desire? Your dress? Your jewelry? Your future husband? They can have all of it if they so much desire it.

You look at the man so many women in this room envy you for. He is wearing a midnight black suit, it must be custom-tailored judging by the perfect fit. His dark hair is styled out of his face, revealing his forehead. Other people would have swooned at the view, but all you wanted to do was to turn around and leave this god awful place. And judging by the iciness in his stare, he was thinking the exact same thing than you.

You quickly look away, searching the rows and rows of people for any familiar face. Some work colleagues of your father bow their heads at you when you pass them by, your mother’s oldest friend waves her small hand at you when your eyes meet, a businessman from abroad, your brother had worked with a few times in the past, smiles at you when you accidentally make eye contact with him.

Perhaps he didn’t come today. You wouldn’t blame him, if it was you in his shoes you wouldn’t have come as well.

You pass your sister-in-law next, your brother is already sitting next to her, handing her his silken handkerchief so she could dry her teary eyes. It makes you chuckle, she has always been an easy crier. But your smile falls the moment you notice the empty spot next to her. Someone must have gotten up just moments ago. Has it been him?

You stop all of a sudden, getting ripped out of your thoughts and back to reality. Your father is looking down at you, signaling you with a stern nod of his head into the direction of the official that you had arrived in the front.

Your throat feels so dry, not even swallowing helps.

“Don’t disappoint us, daughter”, he says and then he is already gone from your side, leaving you all alone on a stage you didn’t want to be on. Of course all you get from your father are threats. He couldn't even give your arm an encouraging pat.

You turn your head to face your future husband. He looks even angrier up close, his nostrils are flared and his jaw clenched. He hates you, and god do you hate him too.

The official clears his throat, raising his hand to stop the music. The guests sit down. The room is so silent now, you can actually hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You hadn’t even realised how much it had raced. You swallow, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. Taehyung’s eyes narrow, not once breaking eye contact with you in a means to taunt you. You can’t say it isn’t working, your heart begins racing even more.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man, and this woman in official matrimony. Into this agreement these two people come together to be joined. If any person here can show cause why these two people should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace”, the official speaks all of a sudden, nearly startling you.

Taehyung turns around, looking into the faces of his guests and silently pleading them to speak up. It shouldn’t have affected you, but it did, even broke your heart a little if you were being honest. You want this marriage as much as he does, but begging someone to speak up is cruel even for your standards.

Silence, not even a cough can be heard. He lets out a scoff, turning around again. His eyes meet yours, sparing you one angry look.

The official nods in contentment and continues.

“Marriage is a sacred union between husband and wife and shall remain unbroken. It is the basis of a stable and loving relationship and is a joining of two hearts."

Taehyung scoffs at this, making the official stop for a moment. He sends him a warning glare, clutching the book in his hand until his knuckles turn white.

“We are all here today to witness this joining of two hearts”, he continues, once convinced Taehyung wouldn’t act up again.

Your niece had walked up next to you with a red cushion, which carried the rings, in her small hands. She is smiling up at you with her gums on full display, something she had gotten from Yoongi. You smile back at her, patting her little head gently.

“Thank you love”, you tell her, making her smile just all the more.

Once you have accepted Taehyung’s ring, your niece waddles up to the frowning man beside you. She looks up at him with nervous eyes, clearly scared by the unfamiliar face. You had already expected him to shoot her an angry glare, but instead a smile hushes over his face for just a moment.

“Thanks little one”, he says softly, accepting the ring.

She giggles, hiding her face behind the now empty cushion before she runs down the stairs and into the safe arms of her mother.

You must have stared at him in total shock, because when he raises his head again and your eyes meet, confusion rushes over his face. You quickly look away, studying the golden ring in your fingers instead.

“Do you Kim Taehyung take Min ___ to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the official asks.

Taehyung stares at you for a moment, his jaw clenching. Silence can be heard in the big hall, only the loud breathing of one of the guests is ringing in your ears. Please say no, please say no, please say no and run away.

“I do”, he finally speaks, shattering even the last remainder of hope in your chest.

“Do you Min ___ take Kim Taehyung to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

You look into his eyes, they were still as cold as ever. You could still say no and run away. It would probably ruin your life and your parents would most likely disown you, but at least you would have your freedom. Your freedom and the man, your heart was actually beating for. You take a look into the crowd of people. The spot next to your sister-in-law is still empty. So he didn’t come. Of course he didn’t.

You blink the tears away and look back at Taehyung.

“I do”, you speak, your voice nearly breaking.

“Now repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed”, the official signals Taehyung to put the ring on your finger.

He takes your hands into his. They feel as cold as ice against your heated skin.

“With this ring, I thee wed”, he says coldly, slipping the golden ring on your finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed”, you speak, following his actions.

You let go of his hands as soon as the burden of the ring was on your finger. You want nothing more than to wipe your hands on your dress. You can still feel the spots his fingers touched, it makes you cringe.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride”, the official announces and closes the book from which he had read the speech before.

Your eyes race between Taehyung’s. You feel so scared all of a sudden, like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. This is the part you had treated the most. You rather eat a knife than kiss him and yet here you were, having to kiss him.

Taehyung takes your head into his hands, looking just as nervous as you do. With the hint of anger in his eyes of course. He leans down, not closing his eyes. And neither do you.

It was a quick kiss, a peck rather than a kiss. His lips only brushed yours before he pulled back again with cold eyes. Relief washes over you, this wasn’t so bad after all. You can live with that half-assed kiss, you can’t even remember how he felt like anymore.

And whilst the two of you are staring at each other with resentment in your eyes, your guests were applauding.

So this is going to be your life from now on.

Two months prior

“So I heard you will be marrying the Kim Taehyung”, your sister-in-law said as soon as she entered the bar and sat down in the booth next to you.

It had been your third drink in which you had been currently poking around with the straw when she had so rudely interrupted your sulking.

“I guess so”, you mumbled with your voice already strained from drinking too much.

“That’s so exciting, wow. My sister will marry the biggest playboy of all of Seoul”, she laughed and waved a waiter to your table.

“Sister-in-law”, you corrected her, feeling terribly moody.

“I never had a little sister, just an annoying little brother, so please let me have my moment right now”, she said.

“He isn’t that annoying”, you murmured under your breath and you were sure she would have poked questions at you if the waiter hadn’t arrived right this moment.

“Yes ma'am?” he was in his twenties, probably a student working at this bar to earn some extra money for his studies.

“A Tequila Sunrise please and for my sister a Mojito, but with double the rum”, she told him.

Your eyes grew big, before a fond smile appeared on your face. The waiter bowed, before going back to the bar and telling the barkeeper your order.

“You know me too well”, you mumbled, taking a sip from your half empty Mojito.

“I know you need it”, she said, taking one of your hands into hers.

“Now, do you want to tell me how you could convince Kim fucking Taehyung to marry you?”

“Of course, are you ready for the romance story of the century?”

She nodded slowly, unsure if you were being sarcastic or not.

“Once upon a time there were two adults. Both of their parents owned big companies. They had never met before and definitely hadn’t planned on meeting. But that all changed when one day the parents of the daughter met up with the parents of the man and without their childrens’ consent they agreed on uniting their children in marriage. The end”, you sighed, watching the ice cubes melt in your glass. The limes had been ruined by your ruthless poking from before, the green pulp swimming in the translucent liquid.

Jiwoo studies your face, her perfectly groomed eyebrows knitted deeply.

“So that’s why I have never seen him at your parents place before. You are basically being sold to someone."

You click your tongue, pointing at her.

“You hit the nail on the head, sis”, you took a long sip of your drink, “and I god damn hate it."

“But that could be a good thing, you know. Uniting your companies is a good idea. Kim Enterprises has the biggest net worth nowadays and with Yoongi married to me, Min Superior will gain enough power that the possibility of becoming first place won’t be that impossible."

You scoff at her words, sending her an annoyed glare.

“Hey, don’t glare at me. Yoongi and I also hadn’t met before our marriage and now look at us. I couldn’t imagine a better husband for me. And I’m sure Taehyung will be the same for you”, she assured you.

“No he won’t, not when I have already Jung-“, you stopped yourself from speaking her little brothers name.

“What? Who?” she gasped, now wide-eyed and at the edge of her seat.

“Nevermind. Look the cocktails are coming”, you said, feeling sober despite the alcohol in your veins.

Present day

As soon as the applause had died down and the guest had sat down again you excuse yourself, quickly running out of the big hall to get some fresh air. Not that anyone would have minded. Deep down they all knew that this was nothing more than a business marriage. They still liked to play pretend however. It's the only entertainment those sick voyeurs got.

You take a deep breath once outside, closing your eyes for a moment. They are burning. Burning so much that all you want to do is cry to get them to stop.

“You look beautiful”, a familiar voice startles you.

You quickly turn to your right.

Jungkook is sitting at the end of the stairs with his hands folded between his legs and his cheeks obviously wet from tears. The tip of his nose is bright red, his lips are swollen from biting them to keep them from trembling.

It feels like someone had forced a dagger right through your heart. Seeing him here and now, all dressed up but crying, it breaks your heart.

“Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you to stay home?” you ask as you quickly make your way to him.

“I couldn’t. My parents told me to come, they said it would be rude otherwise”, he retorts with a shaky voice.

“Kookie god I’m so sorry”, you breathe, breaking the distance between the two of you.

You are in the midst of sitting down when he stops you with a warm hand on your back.

“You’ll get your dress dirty. Sit on this instead. It’s not like I will ever wear this suit again. With all the bad memories attached to it”, he says, already slipping out of his suit jacket to put it on the cold stone for you to sit on.

You sit down. Your legs are touching, the feeling so warm and familiar it makes you ache.

“Did you watch?” you ask, not daring to look at him.

He doesn’t either, both of you keep staring at the wet concrete with your hands itching to hold the other.

“No. I, I couldn’t”, he whimpers, “I’m sorry. I know I should have stayed, it’s your big day after all.”

“Stop”, you warn with a firm hand on his knee.

You can feel his muscle tense under your touch as his legs open further to get closer to yours.

“You know that I don’t want this, so stop calling it my big day”, you spit, finally looking at him with dark eyes.

He turns his head to you slowly, already teary eyed again.

“I know. I’m sorry I just-“, he swallows, “-can’t help it.”

His hand comes to rest over yours, giving you a soft squeeze.

“I’m so sorry”, you force out before the first of many tears streams down your face.

You don’t even get to lower your head before Jungkook’s hand, cupping your cheeks, supports your head instead. It had come natural to him, cupping your cheeks. He always did so when you were crying.

“I know. Don’t cry, people will ask questions why your makeup is all ruined all of a sudden”, he says, brushing your tears away.

“I’m sorry I just-“, you sob, “-can’t help it.”

You lean closer to his body, silently signaling him to take you into his arms. But before his arms can wrap around your tired body, someone steps out of the doors behind you and calls your name.

Jungkook quickly pulls away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Footsteps get closer to you, stopping for a moment before a tall shadow squats down beside you.

“There you are ma’am. Oh Mister Jeon? We missed you inside when the ceremony started”, your assistant says, bowing his head at Jungkook beside you.

“Yeah I didn’t feel well, far too many people for my taste”, Jungkook grumbles with a clenched jaw.

Your assistant hums in understanding before his attention falls back to you.

“Everyone is looking for you ma’am. You and your husband are supposed to have your first dance together in less than ten minutes."

“Give me a moment Hoseok I’ll be inside in five”, you tell your assistant, trying your hardest not to sound like you had been crying.

“Okay, I’ll tell the band that they should start in exactly five minutes”, he says.

“Yes thank you”, you mumble.

And with that he gets up again and rushes back inside.

“Guess responsibility is calling again”, Jungkook states coldly.

“I guess”, you say just as coldly as him.

Jungkook stands up, offering you his hand to take.

“Let’s get inside then”, he says, helping you stand up.

He doesn’t let go of your hand even after you have stood up already. His eyes are locked on your intertwined fingers, his lower lip is between his teeth. Your own eyes can’t stop staring at his face, burning his beautiful features into your memory.

“I want nothing more in this world right now than to kiss you, but I know that if I give in I won’t be able to stop myself from throwing you over my shoulder and running off with you”, he confesses.

He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“Kiss me then, kidnap me, please take me away from here”, you choke out, holding onto his shirt with shaking fingers.

He leans closer. The feeling of his soft lips on yours is within your reach, burning on your lips already. But it never actually comes.

“I can’t. I’m sorry”, he whispers, squeezing your hand one last time and then his body is gone from yours. “it’s been five minutes, let’s get inside before Hoseok loses his mind over you missing”, he tells you.

It hasn’t even been a minute. But you get his urgency. He is just as heartbroken as you are.

“Okay”, you say, turning around and rushing back inside. If you didn’t rush you would just turn back and throw Jungkook over your shoulder instead. It would be a struggle but at least you could run away from here.

You don’t wait for Jungkook, knowing fully-well he won’t be following you for a long time.

The dining hall with a dance floor next to the tables is located right next to the ceremony hall. Dozens and dozens of tables were scattered around the ridiculously big hall. They were round of nature, decorated with big bouquets of white and pink roses in golden vases. Ten people were seated on each table, five from Taehyung’s and five from your guests. Your parents are currently chatting with Taehyung’s and your sister-in-law is chatting with two men, you assumed to be Taehyung’s brothers. They have the same stance, so you noticed.

“Mr and Mrs Kim I am so happy to meet you”, you say as soon as you had arrived at your parents’ table. You bow your head respectfully, smiling at the both of them just like you had been taught. Taehyung’s father stands up, shaking your hand with a firm squeeze. He smiles at you, relaxing you all to your surprise. He has a really boxy mouth when he smiles.

“I am glad to meet you too my dear”, he says, still smiling.

His mother gets up next to shake your hand as well. She has an even firmer handshake than her husband.

“You look beautiful today. Our Taehyung can be happy to have such a beautiful wife”, she says, never letting go of your hand.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Kim”, you smile at her before turning to the two men now standing next to her.

“And you have to be Namjoon and Seokjin, his brothers”, you say, accepting the handshake of Kim Seokjin. His hands feel terribly soft in yours.

You know who Kim Seokjin was, his face was all over the billboards in Seoul. Kim Seokjin, the oldest son of Kim Enterprises and hottest chaebol of South Korea. Apparently, if one could believe the news, he managed to bring in two percent of South Koreas wealth in the last trimester, hence why his face was all over billboards.

“I am happy to meet you”, Kim Seokjin has a sweet voice, not too deep and not too high, it makes you comfortable.

Kim Namjoon, middle child of the three brothers and the fourth biggest shareholder in Kim Enterprises, has a comfortable handshake. Not too tight, but also not too soft. He smiles, showing off deep dimples on his cheeks.

“It is an honour to meet you Miss. I read about the work you did with the schools in Africa, I must say I was thoroughly moved”, he says, voice deeper than that of his brother.

“Oh that”, you laugh shyly, “thank you so much.”

Why does his family have to be so sweet? You had hoped they would turn out to be complete monsters, but instead you were met with good-hearted people and a terribly guilty heart. You had wanted to hate them so badly, but now it would be cruel to do so.

“Now if you would excuse me for a moment. My assistant told me the opening dance is due to happen and I have to find my husband”, you excuse yourself, bowing at your parents-in-law and your own family before walking off to find Taehyung behind the stage.

He is currently sitting on a pillowed chair, sipping on a cocktail - a Piña Colada as much as you could tell – and frowning with dark eyes. He watches you walk up to him, never letting go of the straw inside his mouth.

“Hey, I heard the opening dance will begin now”, you tell him, studying his face. He is slumped over on the chair, his right leg nervously bouncing up and down. He lets go of the straw with a loud smack of his lips before standing up. He wavers for a second before regaining his balance.

“Let’s go and get it over with so I can return to drinking my brains away”, he speaks, his words coming out lulled from the alcohol. He grabs your wrist rather forcefully, dragging you out to the dance floor.

The singer of the band, a rookie group with big dreams and nervous eyes, sees you enter and announces the opening dance as soon as you give him a nod of your head.

“May the newly-wed couple open the dance floor”, he speaks into the microphone before counting down.

The music starts. It is a slow song, the perfect song to dance to when you are in love, when you want to hug your partner close to your body and whisper sweet nothings into their ears. Given the current situation, it feels nothing more than awkward.

Taehyung drags you to the middle of the dance floor, nearly stumbling over his own feet if you hadn’t pulled him back up again.

“Behave”, you warn him, boring your fingernails into his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what to do”, he growls before he presses you against his body rather harshly.

You are feeling things you did not want to feel. His stomach pressing against yours, his body heat mixing with yours, his hand slowly getting warmer in yours. As well as his hair tickling your skin when he leans closer to whisper something into your ear. It makes you shiver, your desire to escape this god awful situation growing in your stomach.

“The only reason I am doing this right now, is because my father threatened to cut my dick off if I let people know how much I do not want to marry you. I’m not enjoying this one bit”, he growls and pulls back.

He fakes a smile as to not draw suspicion from the guests.

“Don’t worry I’m not either”, you whisper back before accidentally stepping on his toes.

“Ow”, he hisses, staring at you with anger in his eyes.

You laugh out loud, throwing your head back. A loud hush of adoration goes through the room upon seeing the two of you so happy. How stupid these people are, you are really starting to question how they can lead companies with their tiny little brains.

“I apologize I seem to have misplaced my foot for a second”, you chuckle.

“Whatever”, he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

You have to admit at least he knows how to move to the music without making it look awkward. Maybe even for a second, for just a split second when he had twirled you around and had caught you safely again, you had enjoyed the dance. But just for a second, not one moment longer.

Taehyung had let go of you as soon as the last note had been played and the curious eyes of the guest had been gone from the two of you, and had stormed off to the bar instead.

For some godforsaken reason you decide to follow him. Maybe because you wanted a drink yourself or maybe because you wanted to cuss at him for getting drunk before your dance together and nearly having ruined it before it had even begun.

Your eyes are so fixated on Taehyung that they don’t even register Jungkook standing up from his seat to walk up to you. He stops when he sees what you are planning on doing, clutching his hands to fists and clenching his jaw.

“One Mojito please”, you tell the barkeeper, sitting down on the barstool right next to Taehyung.

You look over to your left. Taehyung had obviously noticed your presence, but tries his hardest to ignore your eyes on his face, staring into his cocktail instead with a clenched jaw. You watch him for a moment, trying to come up with the right words to say.

“Someone wants to drink himself into a coma tonight”, you gripe.

Taehyung inhales, closing his eyes to get a hold of his anger. Your words annoyed him. Good.

“I danced with you, our responsibilities are done. So scurry off and annoy someone else”, he grumbles, turning his back to you.

“I’m just trying to save you from a big hangover tomorrow”, you act innocent.

Taehyung turns on his barstool so quickly you are scared he might fall off for a moment. He grasps the bar counter, catching himself before his ass can slip off the leathery seat.

Anger burns in his eyes as he stares you down.

“No you��re not. You are just trying to push my buttons. Don’t-”, he gets off his barstool, taking a step closer to you. Your knee brushes over his thigh, his close proximity making you nervous, “-god damn push them. Not tonight”, he warns with a deep growl.

You want to throw a snarky remark at his head, but he doesn’t give you any chance to do so as he turns his back to you and leaves you at the bar.

You watch him stumble to his seat and fall down on the chair. One of his friends quickly takes his cocktail out of his hands before Taehyung could spill everything on his expensive suit. His friend, small framed but terribly handsome, starts scolding him, giving Taehyung a sobering slap on the back of his head. Given how his friend was currently treating Taehyung, he must be older than him. Taehyung simply nods his head, brushing him off with a wave of his hand before taking the straw of his cocktail into his mouth once again.

You scoff, breaking your eyes away from him. Rude, you could never fall in love with someone as ill-mannered as Kim Taehyung.

A hand taps your shoulder, calling your attention. You turn on your barstool, facing a frowning Jungkook.

“Jungkook, hey”, you force a smile to your face.

"Want to dance?" he asks, offering you his hand to take.

One you gladly accept as you jump off the stool and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor. You could need a distraction right now before you follow Taehyung’s footsteps and drink yourself into a coma.

Although your eyes are on Jungkook’s face the whole time, his own don't pay you any mind, staring at an unaware Taehyung in jealousy. Even as he wraps his arms around you and starts twirling you around to the beat of the music his eyes don't fall from Taehyung. The jealousy basically trips off of him.

"Stop staring Jungkook, people will ask questions", you tell him.

Jungkook blinks, ripped out of his trance, before he looks at you.

"I saw the way he talked to you", he grumbles. His fingers around yours tighten as new anger enlightens in his stomach.

"I had it coming, don't worry about it", you assure him, stroking your hand up and down his arm.

“And the thing he calls dancing looked so awkward, I wanted to laugh out loud at some points”, he continues, grinding his teeth.

“Now you are just being mean. Besides I stepped on his toes so he got what he deserved”, you start playing with his hair at the nape of his neck in a means to calm him down.

A smirk washes over Jungkook’s face before he snorts a laugh.

“I saw, it was hilarious”, he cackles, the sound of his voice making you smile as well.

The song changes to an upbeat rock song and with it your dancing changes. Jungkook practically flies over the dance floor with you, twirling you around and pulling out moves you had never seen on him before. Your whole body shakes in laughter at this point, your eyes are teary from laughing so hard and your stomach aches in giggles. Even without trying but just being himself Jungkook had managed to distract you from the harsh reality of tonight. You even nearly crash into another couple with your giggly antics, both of you instantly apologizing to the frowning couple with a deep bow of your heads.

“It’s your fault for nearly launching me into the air. You need to control your strength a little better”, you accuse Jungkook with a chuckle.

Jungkook looks at you with big eyes, clearly faking being offended.

“Oh so now it is my fault? You beg me ‘to do the move’ and all I did was follow through with it. How is that my fault?” he pouts.

“You’ve grown too strong Kookie”, you giggle, tracing the outline of his sculpted chest with gentle fingers.

“You think so?” he grins proudly.

“Mhm”, you nod your head, now feeling up and down his firm arms.

As if in reflex Jungkook leans closer to you, staring at your lips hungrily, wanting to kiss you like he always does in situations like these. For a moment you had nearly given in, for just a moment you had gotten on your tiptoes and had held onto his shirt to pull him closer. For just a moment you had nearly forgotten your composure.

“Wait”, you gasp when reality had set back in.

You pull away, clearly confusing Jungkook with your actions.

“We shouldn’t be doing this”, you tell him.

Hurt washes over Jungkook’s face, the sparkle in his eyes extinguishes and his smile turns into a frown. He sighs in defeat, tightening his arm around you in the process.

"You are right", he agrees as he pulls you closer to his body, "let's enjoy the moment otherwise then."

His smell tickles your nose, his hand feels comforting on the small on your back and the way his thumb caresses the hand he is holding, makes your heart beat faster in your chest. Just moments ago the band had changed songs again, now playing a slow ballad. The perfect song to dance to with your lover, the perfect song to stare into each others eyes and kiss the others lips softly. If only there wasn't a wedding ring sitting heavily on your finger and five hundred guests were currently celebrating your marriage to a man, who wasn’t Jungkook. Your heart feels heavy in your chest at the realisation.

"I never want this to end", Jungkook confesses before he rests his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your hair.

You know he has his eyes closed. He sighs, pressing you even tighter to his body. This isn't dancing what the two of you were doing right now, he is basically hugging you in the middle of the dance floor for everyone to see.

"Don't you think we are a little too close for it to be still considered dancing with your sibling-in-law?" you ask, stealing a glance at your parents direction to see if they had noticed your discretion.

They hadn't, they were far too busy with talking to Taehyung’s parents.

"I think we both know that I am far more than Jiwoo’s annoying little brother for you", Jungkook rasps, ghosting his lips over your jawline in a hushed kiss.

You shudder at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to close your eyes. Jungkook smirks against your skin when he feels your fingernails bore into his shoulders as your attempt to find your composure.

"Jungkook didn’t I tell you to stop before someone sees us?" you warn, pushing him away so there would be a healthy distance between the two of you again. You keep a firm hand on his chest to stop him from hugging you one more time.

Jungkook pouts.

"Why should I? I'm horny for you", he confesses, catching you totally off-guard.

A couple in their sixties suddenly stops dancing next to you, now staring at you. They had most definitely heard you, judging by the distaste written on their features.

Not wanting to make the situation any worse, you drag Jungkook as far away from the couple as possible. As he stumbles behind you, giggling like an excited little boy and nearly falling over his own steps if your hands hadn't such a firm grasp around his, realisation about his current state washes over you.

"Are you drunk? Is that why you can't behave yourself right now?" you growl, grabbing his face by his cheeks and studying his face for any signs of intoxication. His pupils are blown out, his eyes glassy and his cheeks red.

"Great, you are", you scoff, "Sit down, I'll get you some water to drink", you tell him, forcing him to sit down on the next best chair you could find. Thankfully the table you were currently at was empty, so no unwanted eyes were able to watch you right now.

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can turn around and leave him to get some water. He nearly manages to pull you onto his lap if you hadn't slapped his hand away in the last moment.

"Don't be angry at me please", he pleads, reaching for your wrist again.

"I'm not. Yet. Don't try me", you warn.

He pouts, finally having given up at trying to hold onto your wrist again, now sloughing on the chair.

"You are going to turn your back on me and walk to your parents table, am I right?" he asks.

"No", you pull him to his feet by his arm, "we are both going to go to my parents table, sit down at our assigned seats and act like nothing had happened. And then I will ask a waiter to get you some water and sober you up."

"But-" he complains but gets silenced by a firm squeeze of his arm.

“No buts, you are far too young to be that drunk”, you grumble.

Jungkook scoffs.

“I’m twenty three. I’m not too young”, he complains with a pout.

You arrive at your parents’ table, leading Jungkook to his assigned seat and sitting him down despite his complaints. Everyone, including your dear husband, was watching the two of you with confused eyes.

“Yo Jungkook, are you drunk? Why are you sloughing like that?” Yoongi asks, putting a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Kook you didn’t, what did I tell you about getting drunk”, Jiwoo starts scolding her little brother all to his distaste.

Now that Jungkook was in good hands, well semi-good hands, you are sure Jiwoo will make sure he sobers up, poor Jungkook. You circle the table to sit down at your seat. Right next to Taehyung.

To your surprise he leans in to talk to you. His breath smells of alcohol and his eyes can’t seem to focus on your face.

“What’s his problem?” he asks, eyeing Jungkook.

“Low tolerance”, you lie, “but what do you care?”

He sends you an annoyed glare.

“You are right, I don’t.”

He pulls away again to stare into the menu instead.

Someone kicks your shin under the table, making you whine under your breath. You look around, finding the culprit the moment your eyes meet those of Yoongi. He signals you to smile. You shake your head. His brows furrow, he tries again, now telling you to try talking to Taehyung. You sag your shoulders, telling him that you don’t want to with just a look of your eyes. He shrugs his shoulders, clearly not caring about that. Go on, his eyes tell you. Fine, you give in with a slow nod of your head.

“Do you already know what you will be getting?” you ask in your best customer voice. Yes you decided that using your customer voice was best suited for Taehyung.

He turns to you, raising one of his eyebrows in question.

“Why the nice voice?”

“Because I may have been a little too harsh with you, so let’s start over”, you offer him a toothless smile.

“Can you remember the thing I told you about pushing my buttons?”

You nod.

“Then don’t.”

His brother clicks his tongue in distaste beside him, hitting his arm.

“Taetae don’t be rude to her, she is trying”, he murmurs, sending you an apologetic look.

Taetae. You can’t even imagine how a nickname so sweet can be Kim Taehyung’s.

“I’m not hungry anyways”, Taehyung grumbles as he shakes Namjoon’s hand off and stumbles to his feet to disappear to the bar again.

“I’m really sorry for my sons behaviour. I guess that I will have a long talk with him about it”, his father apologizes with shame in his rough voice.

Seokjin and Namjoon exchange a look at that, shifting on their chairs rather uncomfortably. You don’t really see it however.

“Don’t worry sir”, you assure him, despite the annoyance in your stomach.

The rest of the wedding celebration becomes one big blur for you, the three cocktails and five shots which you had downed after dinner were doing their job. You didn’t want to talk to Taehyung, nor did you try to keep your composure now that Jiwoo had sent Jungkook home to sober up. So of course you got drunk just so you wouldn’t remember anything of the awful night come tomorrow morning.

The next place you find yourself in, is the backseat of a limousine with Taehyung snoring next to you. You have no clue if it is already morning or still night nor do you know where exactly the driver is taking you to. You feel your stomach twist when the car drives over a little bump in the road. Oh how you wanted to throw up right now.

“Mister Choi, could you please drive a little more carefully”, you whine, holding your stomach.

“Sorry Mrs. Kim I didn’t know you were awake”, he apologizes, reducing the tempo of the car.

The title with which he had addressed you, makes your stomach twist even more. You glance over to your sleeping husband. His mouth hangs wide open, little snores escaping his throat whilst his head rolls around, leaned against the window. His tie he has loosened and his expensive suit jacket lies safely on the empty seat between the two of you.

“Stupid prick”, you whisper, eyeing him with disgust.

A moment later the car comes to a full stop making you gag from the movement. That was close, your stomach practically aches from the desire to release.

“Excuse me Mrs. Kim”, the driver apologizes once he sees your pained expression in the rearview mirror.

“It’s okay”, you try to smile, but failing miserably as a new cramp in your stomach makes you gag again.

You quickly open the car door to stumble outside. The air is cold and fresh, making breathing so much easier. You are leaned against a high brick wall, taking deep breaths to keep the contents of your stomach down.

“Mrs. Kim are you alright?” your driver asks as he quickly rounds the car and rushes to your side.

You nod, hiding your mouth behind your hand.

“Just take care of Mister Kim. I can manage”, you assure him.

“Of course, I will”, he says bowing deeply at you before he rushes back to the car and pulls a half-awake Taehyung from the backseat.

You turn your back to them, making your way inside your new mansion instead. It was a newly built mansion with a big garden around it. The driveway, made out of grey porphyry, leads down a small decline and high stone walls on each side of the path protected it from the stares of the neighbours. Small lights along each side of the driveway next to the walls illuminated the way to the front door. It was made out of glass with black aluminium holding everything together.

You hold your finger to the scanner next to the doorbell. A short peep follows before the door opens magically all by itself.

“Welcome home Mrs. Kim”, the voice of a computer-generated woman greets you, making your stomach twist once again.

“I already hate this name”, you huff, stumbling inside.

It smells like fresh paint inside, something your sensitive stomach wasn’t happy about. You groan, swallowing down the urge to gag.

Once your uncomfortable shoes are finally off your aching feet you stumble further into your mansion, looking at as much as possible.

You have to admit the mansion was as beautiful inside as it was from outside. White marble floor lined through every room and the clean white walls made it seem even more open.

On your right side lies the big open living room. Tall windows enabled a beautiful view into the garden and the illuminated pool on the terrace. A big white sofa with grey fake fur pillows was located in front of a big television. In the corner next to the sofa you could spot a black piano and a fireplace, which was unlit at the moment.

“Why do we have that? I can’t even play piano”, you mumble before turning your attention to your left side.

A corridor leads to three closed doors, which you figure must be either your own bedroom or your guestrooms. You decide to ignore the right side for a moment, walking to the kitchen on the far end of the house instead, which you could already see from where you were standing.

You plop down on one of the bar stools, resting your head on the big cooking island made out of black marble. The cold stone releases some of the dizziness and after a few deep breaths you feel ready to stand up.

"Okay let’s go. One, two, three." You breathe out, gathering strength for standing up and getting a glass of water.

The moment the water touches your mouth you are sure you had never tasted water as delicious as this one before. You take another gulp, closing your eyes and enjoying the cold feeling in your stomach.

“Finally I feel better”, you gush, smiling.

“Well I still feel like shit”, Taehyung groans, startling you.

You hadn’t even realized that he had come into the kitchen and had watched you gulping down the water.

“You want some?” you offer him a bottle.

He stumbles to your side with stretched out arms, staring at the water bottle like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He basically rips the bottle out of your hands, opening it and gulping it down until even the last drop of the water was down his throat. He ignores the water spilling all over his chin as he does, even as it runs down his neck and soaks his shirt.

“Thanks”, he says, crumbling the bottle and handing it back to you.

“You’re welcome?” you blink, staring at the empty bottle in your hands. Couldn’t he have thrown it away himself?

“I am going to bed”, he says, turning around.

“So no official consummation of your marriage?” you ask with obvious sarcasm in your voice.

“How about you go fuck yourself”, he says, already half way out of the kitchen and not even giving you a second look.

Your mouth hangs open as you stare after him in shock. He didn’t actually just say that.

You are woken up by your stomach screaming for release the next morning. You stand up as fast as your spinning head allows you to and rush to the enclosed bathroom. To your luck the toilet seat was open. In one swift movement you throw yourself onto your knees, your stomach already emptying itself on your way down.

You hate throwing up, you had hated it as a child and you still hate it as an adult, if not even more. Your throat stings and your stomach aches from all of the tensing up. Your whole body is shivering, you feel cold despite the big amount of sweat running down your back. You lean your back against the glass door of your shower, closing your teary eyes.

“God damn alcohol”, you groan before a second wave of cramps washes over you, forcing you to release everything your stomach had to offer into the toilet bowl.

You lean back again, panting. You hate this so much. You never should have drank that much. You take deep breaths, hoping the ache in your stomach will fade and you wouldn’t have to throw up again. Breathe in, breathe out. Just think of happy things, not of wanting to throw up. Breathe in, breathe out. To your luck it stops hurting with every new breath you take.

You stand up, your knees nearly giving up under your weight. If you hadn’t held onto your bathroom wall and dragged yourself to the sink to rinse your mouth from the sour taste, you would have fallen.

You look into the mirror, regretting it once you see your face. You had been too drunk to actually remove your makeup yesterday, which resulted in you looking like a raccoon today. You clean your face with the cleansing oil and the cleansing foam from your own company. You like the products you had invented, as it gives you the best results for your skin. You dry your face with a soft cotton towel and put on a light layer of moisturizer and sunscreen, both from your company as well. You decide to rinse your mouth with mouthwash once again.

You take one last look at yourself. Given the current situation you look pretty okay, definitely okay enough to show yourself to your housekeeper and husband.

“I hope Mrs Choi has finished breakfast already”, you mumble to yourself. You are too lazy and hungry to actually change out of your pyjamas, hoping Taehyung wouldn’t be in the kitchen to see you like this. He would most definitely tease you for the little hearts on your pyjamas and you are not in the mood for that.

You open your bedroom door, inhaling deeply. The smell of fried eggs, rice and hangover soup hits your nose, making your mouth water. Excitement fills your stomach as you waddle to the kitchen.

“Wow Mrs Choi the food smells amazing like always”, you gush, once you have entered the kitchen.

The small woman turns around, clearly startled by your voice. She bows at you deeply, smiling brightly like a grandmother would at their grandchild.

“Good morning Mrs Kim, the food is nearly finished. Did you sleep well?” she asks, already turned around again to stir the steaming soup.

“Not really, my head was spinning too much, also my stomach retaliated greatly throughout the whole night”, you sigh.

“I’m sorry to hear that Mrs Kim”, the older woman says with honest concern in her voice.

“It was my own fault anyways. I shouldn’t have drank that much last night”, you answer before a dark figure calls your sudden attention.

Taehyung is sleeping with his head resting on the black marble surface of the kitchen island, his body slumped over and his mouth slightly opened. Strands of his dark hair hang into his face, moving with every breath he takes. He is dressed in his pyjamas as well, long black pants paired with a black oversized t-shirt and faux-fur slippers which he had discarded at the feet of his stool. At least you don’t have to feel ashamed of being in your pyjamas in front of him.

“Is he okay?” you ask Mrs Choi, studying the sleeping man in front of you.

“I’m totally fine, safe for the fact that you just woke me up”, he answers groggily, surprising you.

He peels his eyes open slowly, staring at you with narrowed brows.

“Last time I checked, the bed is the place where people normally sleep”, you retort, sending him an equally evil glare.

He sighs, sitting up and rubbing the spot between his terribly dry eyes.

“You don’t say.”

He gets up from the bar stool, trudging to the dining table to sit down at the chair closest to the big windows, which give view into your big garden, and lays his head down onto his hands once again.

You follow his actions, sitting down at the chair opposite of him, your eyes never leaving him. He looks fucked, you had thought you looked destroyed, but after seeing him, you aren’t so sure anymore. His body is visibly shaking, sweat running down the back of his neck and his skin paler than last night. How much did he have to drink yesterday? He groans, his stomach probably telling him to go and throw up.

Should you be nice to him? You really want to punch him in his smartass mouth after what he had said to you last night before bed. He would deserve it.

He groans again, furrowing his brows as if in pain.

“Why did I drink so much last night?” he whines, clearly in pain.

No you were raised differently. You shouldn’t be rude to him, especially now in his hangover state.

“You look awful. Do you want some water to drink?” you ask, eyeing him.

He shakes his head, dismissing you with a weak wave of his hand. At least his hangover takes up too much of his energy for him to be too rude to you.

Mrs. Choi arrives at your table with the finished breakfast. It smells and looks mouth watering. You can’t wait to dig in.

“Thank you Mrs. Choi, you can go home for today we’ll clean up ourselves”, you say, putting a spoon full of rice and a fried egg on your plate.

“As you wish Mrs. Kim. I will see you tomorrow then. Have a good day Mr and Mrs Kim”, she says bowing her head before shuffling out of the kitchen to the front door.

“Why did you send her home?” Taehyung grumbles.

“Why not? She deserves a break”, you answer him.

Taehyung scoffs, “she hasn’t even worked a full day here and you are already giving her breaks.”

“So? What about it?” you spit.

Taehyung raises his head for the briefest of moments, regretting in an instant as a sharp pain courses through his brain. He lies back down again, groaning as he does. You cock an eyebrow up at him and click your tongue. Fixing your posture you reached for the bowl of rice.

“How many eggs do you want? And do you want some vegetables?” you ask Taehyung, offering him the bowl full of steamed vegetables.

He slowly raises his head once more, looking between you and the bowl before sighing loudly and sitting up straight. The hunger must be bigger than the hangover.

“Thanks”, he says, taking three scoops of vegetables as slowly as his aching muscles allow him to.

You put two delicious looking fried eggs on his plate, regretting it the instant he looks from your chopsticks on his plate up to your face.

“I can take them myself”, he says annoyed, taking a third egg.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice given the fact that we have to live together from now on”, you answer dryly, acting like you weren’t internally cringing at your own actions.

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes scanning the entirety of your face and stopping at your eyes. This is the first time he directly looked into your eyes without the intoxicated haze between the two of you. It makes you nervous. His eyes almost glowed golden in the bright sunlight hitting his face. They were swollen and red, from not sleeping well, so you figured. You narrow your eyes, feeling weirdly nervous at the intensity of his stare.

“Listen Miss Min, I hope you don’t mind me calling you like that”, he begins and you shake your head. You really don’t mind, on the contrary you prefer it.

“We may be living with each other from now on, but please spare me the polite small talk and nice gestures”, he continues.

You look up from your plate just to find him still staring at you.

“I wanted this marriage as much as you did Mister Kim. So for the sake of our own sanity can’t we at least try to make it as comfortable as possible?” you ask annoyed, slowly losing your temper.

For a moment you both just stare at each other, the faint sound of a car honking outside the only thing ringing in the uncomfortable silence.

“Fine”, he finally says, “if it means that you’ll shut up and I can eat my breakfast in peace”, he agrees, finally stopping to stare at you and looking at his plate instead.

You roll your eyes, sighing loudly, deciding to accept his answer as for now. Your stomach was protesting once again and the smell of soup made you forget about your want to throw a pissy remark at his head.

The both of you finish your breakfast in silence. It was a comfortable silence, well as comfortable as not caring enough for each other to make actual small talk and therefore just accepting the silence, can get. Mrs Choi had outdone herself once again, the soup healed the last bit of discomfort and the coffee washed the last remains of tiredness out of your body. Taehyung must have felt the same way too, as his skin finally has gotten its colour back and his eyes weren’t as puffy anymore.

Taehyung is the first one to get up from his seat, taking as many empty bowls and pans with him, as he can carry. He puts them into the sink and turns the water on. You watch him from where you are seated, surprised by how willingly he wants to do the dishes.

You get up from your seat after having watched his figure for a while, taking the rest of the empty dishes with you.

“I am surprised at how willing you are to do the dishes”, you say honestly, putting the dirty dishes into the sink with the rest of them.

“I hate mess and someone has to do the dishes, given the fact that you sent Mrs Choi, our housekeeper and the person actually responsible for such things, home”, he answers dryly, kneeling down to look through the cupboard underneath the sink.

“Well I didn’t want to risk you making a scene in front of her, so I figured why not give her a day off”, you throw back.

Taehyung appears from underneath the sink, looking totally fed up by your attitude with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Maybe this comes as a surprise to you, but I can actually behave myself.”

You snort, mirroring his posture by crossing your arms in front of your chest as well.

“Laugh all you want, for all I care”, he mumbles already squatting down again.

He continues his quest for whatever he is looking for, rummaging around the spacious cupboard.

“If you are looking for the dish soap it’s up here next to the paper towels”, you finally say, holding the bottle of green soap up into the air.

He stands up, taking the bottle out of your hands.

“Thanks”, he mumbles, squeezing a healthy amount of soap into the water.

He puts the first dish into the warm water, rubbing it clean with vigour. You normally would help a person doing the dishes, you actually quite like doing it, it calms you down. Doing the dishes with Taehyung however seems like punishment more than a reward. So of course you choose the one thing, which seems appropriate in this situation. You decide on leaving him to it whilst you go as far away from him as possible.

“Thanks for cleaning the dishes I’ll go take a shower”, you announce, turning your back to him.

You have already taken three steps when a wet hand, grasping you by your wrist and pulling you back, stops you. You stumble backwards, nearly crashing into Taehyung if he hadn’t taken a step back as well. You twist around, sending Taehyung an angry glare.

“Don’t you dare think I’ll be washing the dishes alone”, Taehyung warns, looking down at you.

“Can you still remember when you told me to go fuck myself last night?” you retort instead

“Yeah”, he shrugs his shoulders, “what about it?”

“See doing the dishes without my help as your punishment for your rude words”, you smirk proudly at the way he blinks in confusion. “So as I was saying, I’ll be taking a shower now”, you turn on your heels to finally continue your way out of the kitchen.

“Miss Min come back here this instant!” he yells, but you don’t hear him anymore.

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sky-drgn · 3 years

Text

Wedding Dress - Dazai x fem!Reader

The result brain rot~ Genre: Fluff, domestic fluff Word Count: 907 I edited the best I could, but there may still be mistakes

Hope you enjoy~ ^-^

It was half an hour past noon when Dazai got home. The brunette was having a good day and felt like the entire day would be a good one. These days were rare, but after a certain event just over two years ago, they happened more often. Often he wished to relive that day. It was by far the happiest day in his entire life. Although, even the bad days had one good element to them. When he got home, no matter what time, the love of his life always seemed to greet him with a smile and a kiss. So when she didn't do that now, he wondered where in the house she could be.

The detective knew she was home. Her car was out front and the lights were on in the house. Yokohama may have peace now, but the former Port Mafia executive couldn't help but worry.

"Belladonna~ I'm home~" Dazai called out in a sing-song voice.

"O-Osamu?! You're home already. I didn't know you'd be home so early!" Dazai was able to relax hearing the sweet voice of his lover. "I'll be down in a minute, I'll make us some lunch, why don't you go see what you want."

Dazai, of course, didn't do as the love of his life said. Instead going up to the spare bedroom of their cute two-story house. "What about my welcome home k-" Dazai froze in his tracks when he saw what his love was wearing. Her pure white wedding gown.

---

The sun shone brightly as white fluffy clouds dotted the sky. It was a perfect spring day. Flowers were in bloom, it was hot but not overly so. The perfect day for an outdoor wedding. Dazai, who was happier than he has ever been, was grateful that the weather was nice. Of course, he and his future wife had backup plans in case it rained, but he knew how much his love wanted to get married outside. And if he was being honest, he too, wanted the wedding to be outside. His sweet Belladonna always looked amazing in the sunlight. The gentle sunlight always made her glow.

The groom knew his bride would look amazing, but looking at her now, he was truly at a loss for words. Her pure white wedding gown, the necklace he had gotten her for their anniversary, he could even see the sparkle of her engagement ring. Dazai was completely speechless. The only thing he could admire was her beauty as she walked down the aisle.

Neither the bride nor groom could stop smiling as they held hands. Dazai even started to tear up as his bride said her vows. Though he didn’t allow himself to cry, he didn’t care to hide the fact that he was close to crying.

“... but most importantly, my sweet Y/N, my love, I’ll live for you,” Dazai said, finishing his vows. Dazai had seen Y/N cry before. But there was something about the happy tears that streamed down her face that made him smile. Gently he wiped away his bride’s tears. Y/N gently leaned into his touch as he had cupped her face. Dazai was sure he melted at that. Her eyes sparkling with what was left of her tears as she looked up at him so lovingly. Really, it was taking all his willpower to not kiss her. He couldn’t do that.

Finally, he was allowed to kiss her, he gently kissed both eyes as if to kiss away the leftover tears. Then finally he captured her lips in a loving kiss. He could hear the happy cheers of their friends, but it all seemed like background noise as he kissed his wife. Dazai could finally call Y/N his wife. The former Port Mafia executive never knew such happiness could exist.

---

"Osamu! I thought you would have picked up the hint to stay downstairs!"

The sound of Y/N’s voice brought Dazai back to reality. The memory of their wedding is fresh in his mind as if it was yesterday. Oh, how he wanted to marry her all over again.

“Dance with me, my love.”

“You’re impossible, you know that.” Y/N giggled but accepted her husband’s hand anyway.

Dazai hummed happily, “So you’ve told me before. Tell me, love, what did you put on your wedding dress?”

“Well, I was cleaning the closet out and found it in the back. I wanted to see if it would still fit. It has been over two years now. Although it feels like it was yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time. Crazy isn’t it?” Y/N laid her head on her husband’s shoulder, just like at their wedding. The happily married couple gently swad across the empty room. Dancing just as they had when they became husband and wife.

“As long as that life is with you.”

The couple continued to sway around the sunlight-filled room. Y/N is still in her wedding dress. The couple happily enjoyed the seemingly rare moment not wanting it to end. Dazai was nearly just as happy as the day he and Y/N became husband and wife.

---

“Say, Belladonna, why are you cleaning the closet?”

“Well, I didn’t have anything to do so I thought I would start working on that now.”

“Love are you?”

“Yes, Osamu, I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a dad.”

Dazai completely stopped functioning after hearing that.

#bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai fluff #bsd dazai x reader #dazai x reader #marrying dazai #happy dazai #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #wedding #wedding dress #bsd dazai osamu

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1025cherrystreet · 3 years

Text

funeral

y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.

a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3

**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories

warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)

word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)

Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.

As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.

The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.

Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.

The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.

Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.

In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.

She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-

"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.

She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.

"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.

"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.

She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.

"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.

"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.

He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."

Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.

"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.

"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."

"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.

Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask. He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.

Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."

This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"

Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.

"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.

"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.

"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.

"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.

"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.

He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.

"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.

"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.

He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.

"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.

"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.

She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."

He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.

"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.

"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.

She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.

"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.

She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.

"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.

"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.

"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."

She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.

"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.

"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.

"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.

As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.

Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.

Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.

"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."

The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.

Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.

***

The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.

"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."

Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)

"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.

Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.

"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."

"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.

"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.

Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.

As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.

The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.

"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.

"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.

She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.

Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.

"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.

She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."

"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.

"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.

"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.

"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.

***

Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.

As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.

Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.

So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.

What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!

She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.

"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.

"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.

She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.

She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.

"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.

"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.

He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."

A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.

She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.

When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.

She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).

She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.

"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.

"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.

"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.

"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.

"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."

She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.

Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."

He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.

She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.

"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.

Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.

"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.

"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.

Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.

"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.

"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.

"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.

"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."

He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.

***

Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?

She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.

Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?

Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?

Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.

"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.

She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.

"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.

Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.

"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.

A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.

He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.

"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.

"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.

"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"

She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.

They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.

She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.

"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"

He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.

"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"

"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"

He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.

"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.

"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.

"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."

Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.

"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.

"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.

"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.

"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.

"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."

She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.

"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"

"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.

"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.

He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.

"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.

Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.

"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.

"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.

"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"

"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.

"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down.

"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.

“F’what?”

“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs.

They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.

***

Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.

She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.

Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).

Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.

That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.

Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.

He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.

"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.

The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.

Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.

Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.

"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.

"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.

The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.

Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.

He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."

"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.

"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.

She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.

"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.

She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"

Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."

"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.

"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.

Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-

Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.

Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.

"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.

She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.

He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.

She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.

Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.

A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.

"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.

"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.

"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.

He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."

She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.

"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me." He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.

"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.

"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.

Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.

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

ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ??

anyways, stay safe and much love <3

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