Ranpoe Wedding Idea
So I had this concept for Ranpoe’s wedding.
I feel like they would go off on a normal case and one day they come back with matching rings. No one really notices except for Yosano. When the three of them are alone, she asks about the new jewelry and they tell her that they’re engaged. Poe would be generally happy/shy/giddy about it while Ranpo would be like “It was bound to happen, it’s no big deal” but also he’s really happy and proud.
Yosano asks about what kind of wedding they were planning on. And they realize, they really never thought about the actual wedding bit. Without hesitation, Yosano brings out a big’ol book that has “Celebrations” on it. On the off chance anyone in the agency were to get married or have a life changing event in need of celebration, she and Kunikida set up a variety of potential plans for the occasion. From weddings to funerals, this book has it all.
Ranpo is A-ok with this as he doesn’t really want to go through the hassle of sitting down to plan a wedding. Poe is initially a bit overwhelmed by the concept, but is flattered by the thought being put into it. Still, he’s a bit hesitant saying that it could be alot and for Yauno to not worry about it too much. She insists it’s fine and the plans begin.
Kunikida is in charge of the various bookings as well as the event schedule, Atsushi and Tanizaki are in charge of the guest list, Kenji and Kyouka are in charge of flower arrangements and decorations, Dasai and Yosano are in charge of food, and Ranpo and Poe can make any alterations as they see fit.
Each agent had a little adventure with their tasks (Atsushi and Tanizaki getting into trouble trying to see if any of the guild members could come, Dasai not only thinking of poisoning the food but messing with Kunikida’s scheduling, as always, Kenji and Kyouka trying not to pick flowers that symbolize bad luck, lost love, death, or any bad omens in flower language, etc.), but ultimately had a lot of fun in the process.
Poe, a bit overwhelmed by it all, asked if he could be in charge of the outfits, specifically the ones he and Ranpoe would wear. Yosano had no objections and a little life seemed to return to Poe.
As everyone is running around trying to get this wedding together, coming up and asking Ranpo and Poe for inputs for themes, cakes, music, etc., It's becoming more and more noticeable to Ranpo that Poe is becoming uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and withdrawn. But Poe insists he’s alright and that he’s glad everyone’s having fun.
Their wedding is to take place in the evening, a sunset wedding. The day of, Poe still seems off but is happy to give Ranpo his outfit. It’s so last minute because Poe kept making something, redoing it, redesigning something, adjusting something else, just wanting it to be perfect for his fiancé. He even made a little tie for Karl.
They get dressed in separate rooms, but they do meet one more time before they meet everyone who is waiting for them in another room. When they see each other they are caught off guard by how beautiful the other looks.
As Poe gazes at Ranpo, his nerves finally catch up to him. Ranpo asks if he’s ok and Poe finally relents and explains how all of this seemed a bit much and happened so quick and how he’s happy that everyone was supportive and kind and put in so much effort for their wedding, but he feels guilty for not wanting to go through with it, not that he doesn’t want to get married, it’s just..
At this point he has to prop himself up on the nearest desk to keep his legs from giving out.
Ranpo sighs, crosses his hands behind his head, and smiles. He walks past Poe saying “Did you know, all it takes to be married is to sign a few papers? Who even likes going to stuffy weddings.”
Poe looks at Ranpo.
After a brief pause Ranpo continues, “I say we skip to the good part and find where they hid the cake.”
“But they did so much planning..”
“And they had fun planning. But it is our wedding…” Ranpo picks up Karl from nearby and puts him on Poe’s head with a soft smile. “And I say that makes us in charge!”
Poe slowly relaxes and begins to smile remembering how happy everyone was doing their tasks.
With a deep breath, Poe agrees,“O-Ok.”
Yosano’s not even angry they didn’t show up to their own wedding, but it did tick off Kunikida. The rest of the agency was a bit concerned and went searching for the grooms. They later found the two eating the cake, slightly covered in it as they had smashed each other's face in the cake already.
--------------ALLL OF THIS TO SAY-----------------
I drew some Ranpoe based on this fic idea I have no energy to fully write.
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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic
Simon Riley / female reader - warning: postpartum depression
requested by multiple: mama's family
"Where's my baby?!"
You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as you give your aunt a tight lipped smile. "He's due to get up any minute." She sighs, like it's an inconvenience, your mom hot on her heels.
"Hi honey," she says, glancing around your now pristine flat, "how are things?"
"Oh, fine." It's the same thing you've been saying this whole time. I'm fine. I'm good. Everything is great. "Went to the pediatrician the other day, Ry is perfect and healthy." You omit the rest of your news, the sudden reappearance of Simon, the stable, consistent presence in your life, the man who was supporting you in anyway he could.
Even though you absolutely do not want your mom or your aunt to meet him, let alone know about him-
you still kind of wish he was here.
He told you yesterday, regretfully, that he had meetings on base all day today, and you told him your mom and aunt were coming by, but probably wouldn't stay long. It was good, that he wouldn't be around.
Before he left for the night, he made you promise to call if you needed him. Text him to check in. You did as he asked, but didn't hear much. Not a surprise, since he said he wouldn't have a lot of time to respond, but still wanted updates.
"That's great honey." Her smile is genuine, and you know she means it. She does mean well, mostly. It's not her fault you're bad at asking for help, or that since you left home, you've become stubbornly independent. You even spent a few years "gallivanting across the globe" as your sister liked to say, shirking responsibility after uni.
Your family was used to you being a bit of a ghost.
"- don't you think?" Your aunt's voice brings you back to earth, and you nod robotically, unsure of what you're agreeing to. You're about to apologize for missing the conversation when the baby monitor on the kitchen counter lights up, Orion's fussy 'I just woke up mom, come get me' cry crackling from the speaker.
"That's for me." You joke half heartedly with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You know the battle with ensue as soon as you come back into the living room with the baby, and you dread it.
"Hi baby." You bend at the waist, scooping him out of his crib. "You're gettin' too heavy for mama, big boy. Don't know what I'm gonna do when you're older." The thought stops you in your tracks, the acknowledgement that he'll get older, that soon he'll be six months, and then a year, two. He'll learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. It's exciting, and anxiety inducing. What if you mess him up? What if you don't give him a good life? What if you're not a good mom, or he gets sick, or there's an accident, or an attack or-
No. You're not going to do this. You're not going to fall into these obsessive what ifs. It will only make you sick to your stomach.
You get him into a new nappy and clothes before slinking back into the living room, cowed with your head down. His head turns against your chest, seeking, and you know he's starting to realize he's hungry.
But the vultures don't care.
"Bring that boy over here, let me hold him." Your aunt croons, syrupy sick voice conjuring a roar of nausea.
"He's probably hungry." You start to warn them that this won't last long as you lower him into her arms, but you know it will fall on deaf ears. "So-"
"Just get a bottle from the fridge dear, I can feed him no problem." You fight the urge to to snap at her, unreasonable rage swelling inside your heart. No one feeds him except you, and Simon. Bottles are fine when you're asleep and can't nurse, or between feedings, but he doesn't eat as much from them. Of course, you've tried to tell them that, multiple times, but it never seems to stick. Your mom knows, but she never stands up to her older sister.
Like mother like daughter, you guess. You've never been a doormat per se, but you don't have a strongest backbone, and becoming a mom has changed you, a lot. You've become even more soft, more sensitive. It's... a problem.
"How are you feeling, honey?" You know she's asking mostly about your body, your stitches, your physical aches and pains, which were plenty considering what you went through when Ry was born, but your mom's voice is gentle, like she senses you frustration, and you give her a weak smile. It's nice she's expressing interest, but that's usually as far as it goes, unless you count the meals she's brought over that you barely picked it, not having enough energy to even feed yourself, or shower, or the suggestion that you give her the baby all the time so you could 'take a break' even though he screamed the moment he was separated from you. Not helpful. Nobody cared that you had scary thoughts, scary moments, scary days. Nobody offered to be here at night with you, when you were all alone with the baby after dark, terrified, crying in the bathroom with your face buried in a towel so you wouldn't wake him. No one was here when you were afraid you might hurt him, or yourself, and no one seemed to hear you when you shrugged over and over again, your lack of interest in everything explicitly clear.
You sucked at asking for help, so you didn't. And when you did, you never got it right, or got the right answers, so you stopped asking. Everything became fine. Good.
"Fine, good." She opens her mouth to say something, ask some question, probably about Ry, when your blood goes cold.
The sound of your front door opening rings out like a bang, your eyes widening in panic, and you nearly run to the kitchen.
Oh fuck. Oh no, no no no-
You turn in slow motion to see your baby's daddy, the man who has a key now, stepping through the doorway. As soon as you lay eyes on him, you split down the middle. You're horrified, because of what's about to happen with the two hens on the couch and-
your libido roars to life. Simon's not wearing his usual jeans or joggers and black hoodie, but a camouflage military uniform. One that he fills out, broad shoulders and broad chest fitted snug inside the material. You think you're staring. Or drooling. Or both.
His lips quirk up on one side with a secretive, almost seductive smile, and he peeks over your shoulder before turning his attention back to you. "Hey mama."
"H-hey. Uh. Hi." Your hands uselessly flit around, like you're trying to swat some invisible bugs away or something. "My mom is still here. And my aunt," you can't help yourself, you take him in from head to toe one more time, "you look... nice."
"Price makes me wear my BDU for on base meetings." He grunts, slightly exasperated. Who?
"BDU?"
"Battle dress uniform. It's... the approved, standard uniform. I don't wear it... in the field." His lips press together, and your mind wanders, curious questions about 'the field' popping up like fireworks, but you push them away. Now is definitely not the right time. His thumb brushes your cheek, under your eye, and he frowns. "Everything alright?"
You step to the side, motioning to the living room, where your aunt and mother are whispering fiercely. You roll your shoulders, and take a deep breath. "Do you... want to, say hi?" The question is weak, your voice small. His brow furrows. He looks hesitant, and you don't blame him. They're a lot. It's a lot. He glances down at you again, head tilted in consideration. "Or you could just go. If you ran out that door... well I'd only wish I could come with you." You whisper, and he cracks a smile.
"No. 'm not runnin' from any part of you, sweetheart. C'mon. They can't be worse than..." he trails off, odd look in his eyes before it clears, "they can't be worse than a lot of things."
He follows you around the corner of the kitchen, crossing the threshold of the living room with two large strides.
Your mother gasps. Your aunt makes a sound that you can only describe as a goose being strangled, and Orion starts to cry. Perfect.
"Oh, oh shhh, shhhh." Your aunt tries to soothe him, but you know it won't work.
"Mom," you call over the noise, gesturing to the giant man standing next to your coffee table, and you, "Mom! This is Simon." She stares at you, confused, shocked even. You never told her your one night stand's name, just that you couldn't track him down, so she doesn't make the connection.
Still, she gapes at him. Clears her throat with a question.
"Is this... your boyfriend honey?" Your aunt's expression is not much different, and you freeze. Is he? Is that what this is? You half expect Simon to reject the term boyfriend flat out, but instead-
"Something like that." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you lean into it, relishing the comfort. Just the presence of him in the flat is enough to soothe you, lessen the tension you feel building in your chest. "Sounds like he's hungry, mama."
"Yeah, I think he's more than ready." You reach for Ry, eager to pick him up, but your aunt shifts her body, shying away, turning her shoulder to you. You're used to this, the keep away, the way they always try to convince you he'll calm down, to let them hold him for too long, to get him a bottle... but Simon is not.
He goes rigid at your side. You can feel the muscle in his arm turn to stone, and his eyes narrow, upper lip curling. Your mother's eyes go wide, but your aunt remains oblivious. "I can feed him, dear. Go get a bottle warmed up and-"
"No." Simon snaps, rough pitch of his voice dipping deeper into the manc accent, and she bristles. This bitch wouldn't be scared of the devil himself.
"Excuse me?" You watch the muscle in his jaw flex with fascination, wondering what he'll do next. You're brought back to when you met, when he stared down the guy who pushed you out of the way at the bar like he was going to murder him, before calling you over to settle next to his thigh. He put his hand on your waist, shielded you from everyone else for the rest of the night.
You were a goner before you ever had a chance to begin.
"Orion wants his mother. You can hand him over without a fuss, or I can throw you out of this flat. Your choice." His words are hard, cold steel, a sharp knife slicing away, exposing vulnerable parts and smashing them to pieces.
Your aunt has the gall to look scandalized, but when you glance at your mother, she has a different expression. It's warm. Approving. She mets your eyes with a small smile as you scoop Orion up, and then she stands.
"We'll get out of your hair, honey." She tugs you into a half hug before looking over. "Nice to meet you Simon." Your aunt is ranting and raving all the way to your front door, but once it's shut...
"Bloody hell." He mutters, and shakes his head. "I won't let anyone push you 'round like that, sweetheart. Family or not. Especially not in your own home, I-"
"Thank you." It's all you can say. "I um, kind of suck at sticking up for myself, sometimes. It means a lot, that you would do that. For me." He steps close, hand covering Orion's belly and chest, even though he's still crying.
"Kitten doesn't have any claws," he murmurs against your ear, and your eyebrows knit together. Uh... what? "Don't worry, you won't need 'em. Not now that you have me." There's something dangerous in his tone, something lethal and profound. It’s as fervid as his proclamation about his commitment to you, to Orion. Like dark water, bottomless and black, it draws you out deeper, sends shivers up your spine, but doesn't turn you away. It makes you curious, intrigued, desperate to peel back his layers, to dig into him until you know it all, inside and out.
Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say?
You weren't afraid of him that night, and you're not afraid now. You know Simon is not an ordinary man. You know you've bitten off a lot, by having his baby, rekindling this connection, giving him a key-
but you plan to chew.
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