#hydrangea path | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollyswishingwell · 1 month ago

Text

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ The morning of the wedding

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, i can’t believe we’re almost done with the wedding series :(

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ It’s the morning of your wedding

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The morning light spills across the wedding venue, turning the white curtains gold. Your makeup’s already flawless, the satin train of your gown cascading behind you like waves, soft, fluid, regal. You’re radiant, glowing, a little pouty because you hadn’t seen your fiancé since last night. And it was killing him too. Thomas had to pry Rafayel away from the bedroom door this morning because he tried to sneak in at least five times under the excuse of “checking the dress isn’t crinkled” or “baby probably needs a cuddle.”

Now, he’s standing at the center of the garden courtyard for the first look. Blue hydrangeas line the stone path, and the sound of the sea murmurs softly behind him. He’s in a pale pearl-toned suit that matches your bouquet, a tiny shell-shaped pin tucked into his lapel. His fingers twitch at his sides, anxious, breath held.

“Okay,” the videographer whispers from behind the camera, “you can walk toward him now.”

You smile, lifting the hem of your dress just slightly as you move toward him. Your perfume carries on the breeze, he notices immediately.

“She’s here,” Rafayel mutters under his breath, body stiffening. “That’s her perfume. That’s my pearl. Oh god, oh god, Thomas I’m gonna cry. Do I look sexy when I cry?”

“No,” Thomas answers flatly. “Stay still.”

You gently tap his shoulder.

Rafayel turns around slowly, and the moment his eyes land on you, he freezes. His lips part, stunned, then he stumbles back half a step, like you physically knocked the breath out of him.

“Pearlie…” His voice cracks. His lashes blink rapidly, already glassy. “What the—are you kidding me? Are you joking right now?! You—! You’re like a—like a—!”

“Princess?” you offer smugly.

“No! Not just a princess. Like, like a divine ocean spirit who came from the sea just to ruin me emotionally and financially!” He swipes a hand down his face, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “I’m gonna be so annoying about this for the rest of my life. You look—baby, you look unreal.”

You twirl a little for him, causing the dress to shimmer.

He gasps, openly gawking. “Okay but you already said yes, right? Like you already signed the forms? Because if you say no now I will jump in the ocean and die dramatically.”

“Too late,” you say sweetly, walking right into his arms. “You’re stuck with me.”

Rafayel squeezes you tightly, resting his forehead against yours with a teary grin. “Good. Because if you had any plans of running, I already dismantled your car engine. Just in case.”

You snort. “Seriously?”

“I took the wheels off too. Romantic, right?”

You laugh into his chest, and he kisses the top of your head over and over, murmuring, “You’re gonna be my wife. You’re gonna be my wife. Mine.”

He spins you in his arms for the camera and tells the crew, “Tell the world I got the prettiest girl alive. And no, they can’t borrow her. Not even for five seconds.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The prep room had been quiet, too quiet. Zayne had been sitting alone, suit crisp, collar uncomfortably starched, fingers resting on his knee in the calmest version of barely-contained tension. He was always composed. Always the controlled one. But today? Today his throat was tight. He hadn’t even touched the espresso the staff brought him.

The moment had come. You were ready.

Outside, in the glasshouse garden set up for the first look, snow-like petals flutter gently from the cherry blossom trees surrounding him. Zayne stands at the center, back turned, jaw tight, hands in his pockets, but you can tell from the slight rise and fall of his chest that he’s not unaffected.

When the videographer whispers, “Alright, go to him,” you don’t rush.

You glide.

The silk of your gown whispers against stone, and your veil catches in the sunlight like a glimmering frost. The moment you get close, Zayne straightens slightly. You’re not even touching yet, but he knows you’re near. The soft hush of your perfume. That warm, familiar pull in his chest.

You reach out and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns.

And he stops breathing.

For a moment, Zayne doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His eyes scan over every inch of you, your gown, your lashes, the way you’re glowing just for him. And then his hand comes up, slowly, reverently, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch something so divine.

“…Sweetheart.”

His voice is low. Stunned. Cracked at the edges.

You smile, teasing, “Are you gonna cry, doctor?”

He scoffs under his breath, stepping forward to cup your cheek, thumb trembling as it brushes under your eye.

“I’m… overwhelmed,” he admits softly, lips twitching into a crooked smile. “You look—snowflake, you look like a dream I don’t deserve.”

You tease, “Too late. You signed the contract. No refunds, no exchanges.”

Zayne laughs softly, but his eyes stay on yours, serious now. “If you want to run, I’d let you. Just say the word.”

You frown slightly. “What?”

“If you’re scared… if you’re unsure,” he says gently, voice low and private even with the camera nearby, “I’d let you go. You could hate me for the rest of my life and I’d still love you.”

There’s a long pause before you raise a brow. “You done being dramatic?”

He blinks.

“Because I’m not letting you run,” you say, grabbing his tie and yanking him down just a little. “You’re mine. No take-backs.”

And for the first time today, Zayne really smiles. That rare, warm, slow curl of his lips reserved for you and only you.

He kisses your forehead gently, breathing you in like medicine. “Alright then, darling. Let’s go wreck the world together.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The celestial-themed observatory terrace was quiet, save for the soft whirr of drones capturing footage from above and the hum of wind drifting through the open dome. Golden light bathed the curved stone floor where Xavier stood, back turned, hands folded neatly behind him.

He looked ethereal himself, tailored black and silver suit, snowy silver hair slicked back (for once), his star-etched ring glinting in the sun. But anyone watching closely would notice the tiniest signs of nerves: the way his thumb brushed the ring over and over. The gentle flex in his jaw.

You walk out, dress trailing behind you like stardust, veil sparkling under the sun.

You don’t say a word. Just walk until you’re close enough to whisper, “Xavi.”

Xavier turns slowly.

And his breath catches in his throat.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. His blue eyes are wide, starstruck. Like he’s staring at something holy.

He parts his lips, and for a second you think he’ll say something profound, but instead…

“…You look like a constellation,” he says, almost dazed.

You blink. “That’s… not even a full sentence, Xavi.”

He lifts a hand to his chest, clutching where his heart should be. “I think I’m going into cardiac arrest.”

You laugh, stepping closer, and his hands hover, unsure where to touch, what’s safe. Like you’re delicate. Sacred. His bride.

“You okay?” you tease.

He nods slowly. “I just… I’ve imagined this. But you’re more beautiful than anything my mind could make up.” He pauses, eyes flicking to the veil, the bouquet, your lips. “You’re perfect.”

“You’ve seen the dress already.”

“Not like this.” He finally touches your cheek, brushing your skin like he’s trying to confirm you’re real. “This version is… married to me.”

You giggle softly. “Almost.”

He raises a brow. “You’re not planning to run, are you?”

“Not unless you are.”

“Mm.” He leans in, kisses the tip of your nose. “If I ever ran, starlight, it would only be to get you more rings.”

You snort. “Multiple rings?”

“Seven. One for each day of the week. One for each realm. One for every time you look at me like this.”

The camera crew melts in the background while Xavier just stares at you, mesmerized, thumb brushing your lips like he’s studying his favorite artifact.

And then, suddenly:

“…Wait. Did I forget to bring the vows?” he whispers urgently.

You blink.

“Xavier!”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

The venue had a beautiful red glow, surrounded by dark roses, glass panels, and an eerie, elegant calm. The skyline stretched out behind Sylus like a battlefield he’d already conquered.

He stood with his back turned, hands in his pockets, posture so relaxed it almost looked fake. He was dressed in sleek black with subtle red accents, his cufflinks shaped like tiny obsidian crows. No nerves on the surface. Just that signature cocky stillness.

Until he heard your heels.

Click. Click. Click.

Then silence.

The moment you stop, he speaks, without turning.

“…Tell me you’re not about to make me cry in front of six camera drones and an entire PR team.”

You grin, voice light. “Depends. Are you going to run before I can trap you into eternal domestic bliss?”

He turns.

And that’s it.

Sylus visibly stumbles. Just a step, but for him, that’s seismic. His eyes drink you in, trailing from the intricate neckline of your gown to the shimmer of your veil to the smug little smile you’re wearing because you know you look like his undoing.

He exhales. “…Holy fuck.”

You snort. “That all you got, Mr. Sylus?”

He takes two slow steps forward, one hand covering his mouth, red eyes blazing. “No, no, don’t speak. Don’t move. I need to immortalize this exact image in my mind. I swear to God if one single wind gust messes up your veil—”

You raise an amused brow. “Getting sentimental, Sy?”

“Kitten,” he says softly, dropping his hand, “I’m standing here trying to remember what breathing is.”

You tilt your head. “You’ve seen the dress before.”

“I didn’t see you wearing it like this. I didn’t see you glowing like you were custom-made just for me.” He closes the distance, cupping your cheek, then tracing your waist with both hands like he’s memorizing it. “You’re gonna ruin me. You know that?”

“You say that like I haven’t already.”

He grins lazily. “Mm. True.”

He leans in, brushing your ear with a whisper, “If you’re planning on bolting, now’s the time. I’ll even give you a five-minute head start.”

You laugh, but Sylus tightens his hold around your waist and murmurs,

“…But I will find you. You know that, right?”

You grin up at him, mischievous. “I’m not running. Not from you.”

He kisses your forehead, then your lips, soft and slow, like he’s sealing a deal. “Good. Because I’ve already printed your new passport. Non-refundable.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The Skyhaven garden deck was quiet, private, just the way Caleb demanded. Far above the city, clouds skimmed low over the glass rails, making it feel like the two of you were floating somewhere between heaven and home.

He stood with his back to you, broad shoulders perfectly straight in his charcoal suit, black shirt, and deep purple tie you picked out weeks ago “because it matched his eyes.” His fingers were tucked into his pockets, but his knuckles were white. He hadn’t stopped pacing for the last ten minutes until the videographer told him “just stay still, sir.”

The second your heels touched the wood panels, he went dead silent.

And when you say softly, “Caleb,” his breath catches.

He turns around slowly,

And immediately laughs.

A warm, emotional, teary laugh that he tries to bite back with a hand to his face, but it’s useless. His voice cracks halfway through his smile. “You’re actually gonna make me cry like a baby, huh.”

You pout. “What? No heart attack? No dramatic gasping?”

“Oh no, trust me, my heart exploded. You look…” He steps closer, still laughing under his breath, gaze raking over you with open awe. “Baby, you look like something I used to draw in my notebook in class when I was twelve and obsessed with you.”

You giggle. “Oh, so I look cartoonish?”

“No, you look like a dream. Like the one I’ve had on repeat since I was eight.” He pauses. “You remember that, right? When i made Grandma do the fake wedding in the backyard?”

Your eyes light up. “And we used the washing line as an aisle!”

“And I made you say your vows while holding a flower crown I stole from the neighbor’s hedge,” he grins, eyes glimmering. “And I said I’d protect you forever, and never let anyone else marry you.”

“And you made me kiss you on the cheek…Grandma was concerned you were going to faint.”

“Oh, it was worth it.” He takes your hand now, cradling it like something sacred. “Look at you. I knew I was gonna marry you. I manifested this.”

You laugh, squeezing his fingers. “Any last-minute regrets, Colonel?”

He raises a brow, grin sharp. “Regrets? My only regret is not locking you in my room earlier so I could have seen this dress before everyone else.”

You roll your eyes. “Possessive much?”

“Uh-huh.” He pulls you in close now, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re my girl. My forever girl. No backsies.”

You whisper, “You’re not gonna run?”

He scoffs, low and amused. “Run? Baby, I hijacked the shuttle. You’re stuck with me.”

He kisses your cheek, then your ring finger, then the tip of your nose, all while murmuring softly like he’s trying not to sob: “You’re so damn pretty, pipsqueak. You’re so mine. And I’m never letting go.”

610 notes · View notes