#Seasonal Wedding Decor Ideas

[shaadistock]

Elevate your wedding planning with our presentation, "Seasonal Wedding Trends - A Year-Round Guide." Explore the latest trends that capture the essence of each season. From spring's blooming romance to winter's cozy charm, we'll inspire you to create the perfect celebration, no matter the time of year. Don't miss out on your guide to a truly timeless wedding. Visit Shaadistock for more on Wedding.

[shaadiwish]

Save These Sofa & Blooms Wedding Decor Ideas For 2024 Wedding Season

[moonwoodhollow]

HOHENZOLLERN ALLEE 72-76

a German-inspired 1950s apartment build + a furnished flat

A build download that was in the works for almost a month and made me realise how much I love building local architecture even though it's not the easiest within the constraints of TS4.

It's meant to represent a realistic German apartment build, that is a bit run down and yet still feels homey and nostalgic to those of us growing up near or in these buildings. There's one furnished flat that is ideal for 2-3 sims and furnished in a retro 60s-90s look, that I hope you'll enjoy! This is also a BIG 1K followers gift, with which I want to show my deepest appreciation to all my followers, thank you so much!!

More info, screenshots + DL link behind the cut!

First a little history/backstory to this build:

This build is something you'd see very often in Middle to Northern Europe, less so in the UK, because brick builds there look similar but also different and I based my build off of Northern German brick builds.

The red brick used for these builds dominates the townscapes in quite a few cities where I live and has been used for a few centuries (see Brick Gothic). This build that I based on a real building, however, is more modern and was probably built after WW2, as the design choices, like using tiles on the facades of brick builds is something distinctively 1950s. I know there are older examples, but these buildings usually have more design and decor elements on the facades. These red brick builds were built en masse starting with the 1920s and were usually meant for low-income households. The same goes for the 1950s brick builds, which were built on top of ruins of older buildings destroyed in the war and oftentimes were cheaply constructed and usually don't receive the same appreciation that older pre-war brick builds get, so quite a few are already being demolished for more modern builds.

So what do you get with this build?

Hohenzollernallee 72-76 is a 40x30 lot that I placed in Evergreen Harbor on the Sprucewood Square lot. I created 2 versions of the building, one as a normal residential lot and another as a residential rental. Just choose whatever you want! There are 6 different flats, that have been renovated at different times, which is apparent from the condition of their kitchen and bathroom.. Each flat has its own basement room and the garden is shared between all tenants and there's a shared laundry room in the basement as well.

You'll also have a restaurant shell, the Burger Lab that is not functional currently, but you could make it so if you want.

The furnished flat is playtested and ideal for 2-4 sims max and is heavily 'lived in', meaning very cluttered. I personally see an older woman living there, whose husband already died and her daughter left as soon she turned 18, but the interior was never changed or renovated. I don't know, you could probably come up with a lot of story ideas!

CC is mostly included. You'll find an Excel file with the specific file names and the dl link for all CC that is not included. The build will probably still look okay-ish without the excluded CC but I strongly recommend downloading it, if you do not already have it.

Thank you, especially to these lovely creators: @budgie2budgie, @sforzinda, @surely-sims, @pluto-sims, @syboubou.

@myshunosun, @charlypancakes, @peacemaker-ic, @kkbsmm, @leaf-motif

@awingedllama, @kirsicca, @baufive, @lumenniveus, @kiwisim4 and many more!! it's because of you that this build looks the way it does <3

Uses items from the following packs: For Rent, Growing Together, High School Years, Cottage Living, Snowy Escape, Eco Lifestyle, Discover University, Island Living, Get Famous, Seasons, Cats and Dogs, City Living, Get Together, Get To Work, Werewolves, My Wedding Stories, Dreamhome Decorator, Strangerville, Vampires, Dine Out, Tiny Living, Laundry Day, Backyard Stuff, (Kits): Party Essentials, Basement Treasures, Greenhouse Haven, Bathroom Clutter, Everyday Clutter, Desert Luxe, Little Campers, Décor to the Max, Industriel Loft & Courtyard Oasis

Download: Google Drive | also up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you'll need the cc files from the Drive folder!)

-> Info: I tried to not include merged files, but there are about 3-5 that I missed, sorry :(

TOU: please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues (wrong files, etc.) please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the house, I’d love to see it in your games.

[rederiswrites]

You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

[pennylanefics]

Orchids - Quinn Hughes

a/n: not the happiest with this but i really love the idea :) it's such a cute little trope and i can never get enough of it <3

summary: you attend a wedding with quinn and his mind starts to wander about your own relationship

word count: ~1.3k

Quinn sits beside you at the overly decorated table, candles surrounding the area, creating a romantic and soft lighting. Flowers upon flowers are spread all over the entire place, and chatter amongst the guests fills your ears, making your head feel a little fuzzy.

Wedding season was in full swing, and this was the second wedding of the year for Quinn to attend, this time it was a friend and teammate he had in the AHL, who was traded to a different team about a year after. They were still close, so of course Quinn was invited to his lavish wedding.

You felt slightly out of place, not knowing a single person beside Quinn and maybe one or two guys here and there. You made acquaintences with the people at your table, though, finding out they are family of the bride.

Quinn’s hand hadn’t let go of yours since you sat at the table, waiting for the bridal party to enter. He takes in all the decorations while saying hi to people passing by or catching up with someone who stops to chat with him for a little.

He was the best at detecting when you were uncomfortable or shy, or even overstimulated or overwhelmed with a situation, no matter how hard you tried to hide it from him.

“We can leave after dinner, or whenever you’d like,” he whispered in your ear, moving to set his arm around the back of your chair.

“I don’t want to take away from supporting your friend. I’ll be okay,” you grin over at him, squeezing his hand to reassure him a bit more.

“Just let me know. I don’t want you being super uncomfortable.”

“I will,” you agree, kissing his cheek.

The entire time that the wedding party is announced two at a time, one bridesmaid and one groomsmen, and finally the newly wedded couple, Quinn had this special glint in his eyes. The lights shining around him brought out the brown flecks in them, but even with that, there was a deeper meaning to them…he was lost in thought about something.

Dinner is served soon after, wait staff walking through the tables and dropping off plates of steak and chicken with mixed veggies and potatoes, a very fancy yet simple choice you were thankful for. Conversation quietly bubbles amongst every table, everyone lost in their own little world.

Quinn, however, was in his own imagination still. You could tell something was up when he was looking all over the event space, grinning softly as he chews his food.

“Something up, Q?” You finally ask him, nudging your hand against his thigh. His head whips towards you and he shakes his head, swallowing his food.

“No, just looking around. It’s beautifully set up, there’s so much to look at,” he brushes off, but just like he knows you, you know him just as well. And you were wanting to get to the bottom of it by the end of the night.

The festivities continue after dinner, dessert is brought out and while it’s delicious, you can’t help but focus your mind on Quinn and his slightly odd behavior; it wasn’t odd, in a sense, but something was up with him. He was far quieter than his usual self that he was at weddings.

Once the speeches were over, which were filled with stories and laughter, the DJ announces that the couple will have their first dance, and then the floor would be open to everyone. Quinn’s hand returns to yours as his eyes were glued to the magnificent white dress that adorned the bride and how her new husband was holding her like she was the most delicate antique he’s ever seen.

You take notice of the glint that returns to his eyes, seemingly smiling to himself, or at the happy couple, it honestly could be either. Taking a step into your plan to get him to clear his mind, you place your head on his shoulder, startling him a little since he was so focused, but he settles back, turning to kiss your head.

As the night progresses, you soon find yourself in Quinn’s arms, slow dancing on the floor with countless other couples, your head tucked into his neck. His hands rest on your waist and he hums softly along to the music into your ear.

“Do you ever think about what kind of flowers you want at your wedding?” He asks, his thumb gently rubbing the spot where it sits. You had to keep yourself still for a moment because you were about to raise your head so fast, you would have smacked him in the chin.

When his question finally settles in, your head lifts from his shoulder and you look into his eyes, which were shining with so much adoration for you, a slight grin on his lips. His eyes rake over your face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“I love daisies or dahlias, daisies would be perfect for a spring wedding, and dahlias in general are so beautiful. I feel like roses can be overrated sometimes, so I’d want something non-traditional,” you explain, still swaying side to side with him. He nods along and his smile widens. “Why? What kind of flowers do you imagine for yours?”

“I’d love orchids for the main flower. Obviously we’d need more, but I was reading something the other day that orchids represent, well, they represent a lot of things, there’s a lot of different meanings for different colors.” He blushes under the dark lights and looks down at your entwining hand, his left hand trailing down to hold your right one.

“I read that in the Victorian era, orchids were given to someone to show love and appreciation and as a way to tell a woman that she is beautiful.” His other hand raises to your face, cupping your cheek to make sure you kept your eyes on his. “They also represent rare and delicate beauty, and I can’t think of any better flower that encapsulates you.”

Your cheeks heat up under his touch, your breath hitching in your throat. 

“I’ve been imagining our wedding all night, my love. What decorations we’d have, what our color scheme would be, how romantic our first dance would be, but I’d kind of like to have that be in private, between us, and not let anyone know. So they’d be thinking they’re watching the first dance, but it’s really our second.” The pink hue remained on his face as he continued to describe his thoughts, finally giving you and insight into what was on his mind the entire night.

He had been thinking about what it would be like to marry you. Imagining yours and his wedding.

“Is that why you’ve been so distant tonight?” You tease him, tracing your finger across the dress shirt adorning his chest, messing with the chain of his necklace.

“A little. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. Thinking about seeing you in a beautiful white dress, with your hair all done up in a perfect way, a shining ring on your finger that shows everyone you are loved.”

His words send shocks through your body, your heart racing like crazy in your chest. You were in awe that Quinn had been thinking about this. You’ve only been dating for a couple years, which isn’t short, but it’s also not a long time yet. You expected him to feel this way five years in, so it surprised you a little to know he was thinking about it.

You hadn’t thought of it at all, maybe once here and there, but never in-depth, to the point where small details are planned out with such an immense amount of thought, down to the meaning of certain flowers. However, as you gaze up into his eyes, his touch feeling hot and heavy on your body, you take a moment to think about it.

And the moment the idea of marrying him enters your mind, it feels right.

“You wanna marry me?” You wonder, even though it’s a very obvious answer.

“Of course. You are it for me, my soulmate. There’s no one else I could imagine marrying, my darling.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

[glorified-red]

Auburn Traditions (Damian Wayne x Reader)

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

It came as no surprise when Damian popped the question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damian tsked, “You wish.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My better half.”

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

[strawberry-cow-smut]

"It's always been there."

Character: Gojo Satoru, Jujutsu Kaisen

Reader: Gender Neutral

Exploring: First Meeting, Love at First Sight, First Date, Relationship Moments, Gaslighting (about small and inconsequential things), Awkward Moments, Lots of Fluff

Gojo Satoru is known for his boyish demeanor; full of fun, laughter, and a playfulness that rivals any other. Sure, he's possibly the most powerful sorcerer to have ever existed in the written memory of mankind and likely the closest thing to an actual god that humanity currently has on its side, but none of that really changes anything; at least when you look at him.

Satoru is like a mischievous cat. He'll mess with your hair and move essential items onto higher shelves then hide the stepladder just so you have to come ask him for help. He'll lurk around corners just to "casually" walk out just as you're coming around them to cause a crash of bodies in which he can ever-so-heroically save you from "certain death". To put it frankly, he's an asshole (affectionate).

But he's your asshole.

Gojo Satoru asked you out back when you were both in middle school. He'd decided to walk a different path on his way to the local convenience store after class had ended. For you, on the other hand, this path was your chosen way home from your own middle school.

It was a cold spring and the cherry blossoms had yet to bloom; decorating the landscape with trees that vaguely resembled themselves after the first powder of a chilly winter season. Some buds had already fallen and were floating their way down the stream next to his path.

He remembers seeing your reflection in the water of the river first, then moments later being awestruck as your figure popped out from a corner and began heading towards him. Normally, Satoru wouldn't think much of a person walking towards him, but something about you just had his heart in shambles the moment he laid eyes on you.

Is it really all that unusual for a middle schooler to hear wedding bells when he's barely even gotten over the idea of cooties?

The distance between you two was closing at a slow yet steady pace. He'd been frozen in place since the moment you'd appeared, but you hadn't stopped walking at all. Once you were roughly six or seven meters away, he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

"HEY!"

The sudden yell caught you off guard; bringing your own body's movements to a grinding halt.

"DO YOU WANT TO GO OUT SOMETIME?"

With a boyish smile and bright eyes, Satoru stared eagerly, waiting for an answer. Sure, the delivery wasn't the most impressive, nor had you ever seen this kid before in your life, but what did you have to lose?

"No."

Apparently, your dignity.

Not giving him another second of your time, you turned tail and walked away, leaving him frozen in the same spot, with a much sadder posture.

Satoru stayed still for a few minutes, processing what just happened and what he'd just done. What he'd just done was make an absolute fool of himself and blow what possibly could have been his only chance with you. He wasn't about to give up so easily, though.

For the next month and a half (or forty-three days, to be precise), Satoru walked that same route every single day at the same time, even on days when he didn't feel like heading to the convenience store, just hoping to see you again.

You, on the other hand, purposely walked a different path in hopes of avoiding a weird white-haired kid with a tendency to yell out his unfounded love confessions. On the forty-third day, you incorrectly decided it was safe to return to your normal path, and encountered the doofus once more.

Once again, he was awestruck. He did wait for you to approach a bit closer this time, though. Once you had passed by and were a few steps behind him, he stuttered out his name, accompanied with a rather charming voice crack. You muttered your own in response, and he lit up. He jogged a bit to catch up with you, abandoning his trip to the convenience store in favor of a conversation with you.

In all honesty, he was a bit of a pest. He was loud and a bit obnoxious with hardly any regard for personal space, but something about this weird kid with his sights on you seemed oddly right; maybe not a good idea, but right all the same. Reluctantly, you conceded and agreed to meet him for a movie after class next week.

Your first date wasn't all that great. He was so amped up about the idea of seeing you that he'd practically yelled every sentence he spoke. Whenever he awkwardly attempted to hold your hand, he'd squeeze a bit too tight.

But still, he'd opened the door for you, bought both the tickets and popcorn, made sure you had the best seats in the theater, and had tried his best to manage both the date and his enthusiasm.

Oh god, his enthusiasm.

You'd arrived to your first date exactly when you said you would, but Satoru had already been standing outside the theater gates for two hours before the movie would even start. He'd visited two different flower shops on his way there, trying to decide which ones were the perfect ones to get for a first date, then ultimately decided holding flowers during a movie wouldn't be all that comfortable and forgetting about that idea altogether.

He didn't plan on you ever knowing that, wanting to seem as cool as possible in front of his crush, but the box office cashier made sure to tell you all about it. Of course, Satoru was bright red by the time they'd finished, but so were you. It was a new feeling to have someone be so excited to see you, and even more new to know they'd been thinking of you so intensely beforehand.

Before you two parted after the movie, you did mention an ice cream shop you'd be at that Saturday. Despite all his annoyances, they were still charming annoyances; and he'd earned a second date.

Throughout the years, you two would go on hundreds of other dates where his annoyances would make themselves known time and time again, each of them becoming endearing and something you'd almost look forward to.

He'd tell you there's a cool bird outside to get you to turn your head, then steal a bite off your plate when you weren't looking. When you'd invite him over, he'd open your sock drawer the moment you left him unattended and would switch around all the paired socks with others that were very obviously not their mate. He'd leave cute notes that said "I love you" or something similar in places you'd undoubtedly find them: your glovebox, your dresser, the kitchen counter, inside the fridge; although they'd always have a silly little poorly drawn penis in the bottom right corner. He'd reenact the famous "Long Live the King" scene from The Lion King with your stuffed animals then flop back in your bed, claiming to be the only thing you need to snuggle at night.

With all this in mind, it's truly a wonder how willing you were to trust him when he started gaslighting you.

It started small, and it certainly wasn't intentional the first time. As far as you know, the first instance was when you noticed a large stash of your favorite snack sitting in your shared pantry. Not wanting to lose his cool like he'd done so many times before, Satoru played dumb and acted like he hadn't ever seen the snack before in his entire life. You held firmly to your suspicion that he had something to do with the tiny mountain on the shelf, but it's not like it mattered, nor could you prove anything... and you did really like the snack, so you just shrugged it off and went with it; genuinely considering the possibility that you'd forgotten accumulating so many treats for yourself.

He really didn't think it'd be that easy to convince you. He turned the situation over in his head a few times that night, thinking about what your gullibility meant for the future of your relationship, but he didn't see many downsides; at least with how he planned to take advantage of it.

"Yes dear, the TV was always that big. No, it certainly didn't grow overnight. Are you imagining things?"

"Oh, you really like the fabric of our bedsheets? It's your favorite texture? What do you mean they're new? Oh, Honey, we've had these sheets forever and you're just now telling me about this?"

"You haven't worn that outfit in a while. What do you mean you've never seen it before? It was always in the back of your closet. It was just behind that old shirt you stole from me when we first moved in together. Yeah. You mentioned it was your dream outfit, but you've always had that."

"No, a jeweler didn't call today. You must be going crazy. I didn't even hear the phone ring and I've been home all day long. You're so silly."

One morning, the sun started shining a bit brighter than usual, or at least it appeared to since Satoru had forgotten to close the window before bed last night. He said he would before he laid down to sleep, but apparently forgot to keep his promise. While you slept peacefully. he'd been up the majority of the night. He'd been stirring about the house the entire night; sitting in every chair, making a thousand Google searches, playing Jenga by himself, and debating on whether or not to crawl into bed with you. Eventually, he would give into this little desire, but not before tending to another small task first. Satoru completed his little task before climbing into his side of the bed and snuggling up to you as per his usual.

You woke the following morning with the sun's rays leaping through your window and assaulting your face as it rose on the horizon. The arm around your waist kept you cemented in place. As you attempted to roll over to escape the warmth of another day, tired grumbles sounded from the face hidden from the same criminal in the small of your back.

"Five more minutes."

Given how he towered over you in both strength and stubbornness, you sighed and gave in to his grumbling without much of a fight. If you're going to be stuck here, you might as well make the most of it, right? Five minutes for him can at least mean four more for you too. As you lay your head back down on your pillow, a sudden and bright sparkle from your bedsheets caught your eye.

What the hell could that be?

In your sleep-drunken state, you attempted to reach out and grab the object, only to realize the shimmering object moved at the same pace as your fingertips... or did it?

The mysterious twinkle seemed to be attached to your hand; your left ring finger to be precise.

The extra heft was surely noticeable once you'd awakened enough to gain some form of higher thinking. There is absolutely not a single logical reason as to why this giant ring, almost gaudy in its presentation and glittering enough to make oncoming cars swerve, would be on your finger. Sure, Satoru had made some jokes in the past, but you swore he'd never proposed to you.

He stirs and grumbles again, obviously disturbed by your refusal to lay back down.

"Satoru? What's this?" you inquire without breaking your gaze at the ring. Satoru sits up slightly and yawns; blinking a few times before waking up enough to respond properly.

"... Oh! I know this one! It's a ring!"

Wow. So intelligent.

"Of course it's a ring, dumbass. What's it doing on my hand?"

"It's your engagement ring, silly. Don't you remember? I proposed like a month ago."

"......... Are you sure you did that?"

"Absolutely positive. Never been more sure of anything in my life."

"I think I'd remember something like that."

"Hmm... I don't know if you would. You've been forgetting a lot of things lately. Good thing I can remember it enough for both of us. We were in that cafe you like with those cute plants on the windowsill and it was snowing outside. You ordered a hot chocolate in their signature seasonal Santa mug and I had my glass of steamed apple juice to go with it. I got down on one knee and you said yes before I even had a chance to ask the question. It was so cute how eager you were." Satoru took a deep sigh and gave your body a slight squeeze, burying his face in the small of your back once more.

You're immediately calling "bullshit" in your head, but the slight tremble in his breathing makes you go along with it this time, fully understanding exactly what he's trying to do. With a sigh, you lay back down as well, rolling over to face him and cup his cheeks. Looking into his cerulean eyes, you give a soft smile and a gentle peck on his lips.

"I'm so glad you remember. I'm sorry I don't, but maybe you can do it again so I can remember this time?"

Satoru froze for a moment; taking the time to think through his next words carefully.

"Of course, my love." He cupped your cheek with one of his large hands and pressed his nose to your own; bright eyes peering directly into your soul.

"My beloved dove, I have loved you with everything that I am, and, if you'll allow me, I'd be honored to love you with all that I will ever be for all eternity. For the rest of our lives, I want to wake up next to you, just like this, and hold you in my arms, just like this. Whether we're fighting the clock and rushing out of the house after another 'Just five more minutes' or taking it easy and sleeping in until noon, I want that to be our every day together. I want to stay with you as long as you'll let me, as close as you'll have me. When I'm with you, the days turn into hours and the hours into minutes and minutes into seconds. I fear that forever may not be long enough to truly show you how much I love you, so I'm afraid I'll have to cut my little speech short. What I'm really trying to say is... Will you marry me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~Author’s Note~~~~~~~~~

Happy holidays to @saintsugu!! I'm your Secret Santa! This one's written especially for you, Ezra! This is the first JJK piece I've written so it might seem a little funky, but I sincerely hope you enjoyed getting to experience this little love story with Gojo <3

Heart dividers made by @/cafekitsune

[fantasyescapes17]

Scandal (Part 3)

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

Genre: Wonwoo x Female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Joshua's sibling so your maiden name is Hong but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: This part has some discussion around character(s) struggling with mental health and dark thoughts including one or two which are not explicitly (but could maybe be perceived as borderline) suicidal.

Word Count: 7k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Series Masterlist [Reading Candle and Manners, the earlier installments in this series first is strongly recommended as main character dynamics are introduced there.]

The Jeons' countryside estate was vast and spacious. Mr. Jeon Wonwoo was the eldest son of a rich noble family and although his wealth could not compare to the fortune possessed by a Viscount- it was still nothing to sneer at. The Jeon manor towered over a lake and was surrounded by a pleasant little garden and blooming green fields.  

It was more remote than you had expected. The estate was followed by swathes of farmland and the nearest village was well over a mile away. 

It was late evening by the time your carriage rattled up to the front entrance. 

Mr. Jeon helped you down and you were greeted immediately by a host of servants that lined up outside the front gates upon your arrival. The head housekeeper hurried forward to greet you; she was an older woman with greying hair and a kind smile. 

"Mr. Jeon!" she welcomed him warmly.

You looked at Mr. Jeon from the corner of your eye, and were shocked to see him give her a small smile. You had never seen him smile other than a mere dispassionate curl of his lip or a smirk. 

This was a genuine, warm smile. 

"Mrs. Betsy. It is really wonderful to see you looking so well," Mr. Jeon greeted her kindly before turning to you. "This is Mrs. Betsy- she has been the head housekeeper at the estate since before I was born."

You nodded simply. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Betsy."

She beamed at you. You realised immediately from the warm reception and big smile on her face that she had no idea of the circumstances of your wedding. The household staff were evidently under the impression your marriage with Mr. Jeon was… normal. 

"We always knew Mr. Jeon would find a young lady that could persuade him to marry," Mrs. Betsy gushed as she took Snowball from your arms and led you up the entrance stairs. "Of course- I never imagined- is it quite true, madam, that your brother is a Viscount?"

Mr. Jeon was not far behind and he cleared his throat. 

"Mrs. Betsy…" he said in a gentle warning tone. 

The housekeeper blushed. 

"My apologies, Mrs. Jeon. We are merely curious about the young lady that could capture our master's heart. Supper is ready; you must both be very tired from the long journey. I will show you up to your rooms and the ladies' maids will help you dress."

You were guided by the ladies' maids into a large bedroom that was beautifully decorated. The pastel-colored linens were fresh and the dressing table was ornate, spotless, and filled with everything you could need. 

Two maids worked quickly to help you dress for supper. 

"We have placed you in the master suite since the elder Mr. and Mrs. Jeon are settled year-round in London and rarely come down to the country," the maid informed you as she swiftly did your hair. "Mr. Jeon Wonwoo's room is adjacent and…" she trailed off and let out a giggle. "There is a connecting door between your rooms."

You looked towards the door and sighed in relief. 

Thank goodness. You would have preferred the bedrooms to be entirely separate, but that was wishful thinking. At least the servants did not expect you to share a bedroom with your new husband. A connecting door could easily be closed and you and Mr. Jeon could each retain your privacy. 

Once you had been allowed to change into an evening dress, you were guided down to supper by the maids. To your surprise, they turned away from the enormous dining room and instead led you into the garden. Underneath a large oak tree, the household staff had set up a small, intimate table, two chairs, and a number of twinkling candles. 

You swallowed nervously as all the servants left. 

Mr. Jeon stood and pulled out a chair for you. 

"I apologise if you are uncomfortable," he said quietly as you sat down and he took the seat across from you. "Mrs. Betsy took it upon herself to arrange what she believed would be a… romantic supper for our wedding night."

"She seems very thoughtful," you mumbled. 

Mr. Jeon nodded. "I did not think you would want me to inform the servants about the particulars of our marriage. They are unaware. But if this is uncomfortable for you, and you wish for me to ask them not to overstep-"

You shook your head. "It is fine."

Mr. Jeon relaxed into his seat. The distant chirping of crickets filled the silence of the evening. It would have been a very romantic dinner if the circumstances had been different. If you had actually married this man out of love, or at the very least some mutual admiration. The serenity of the garden at night, the way the candlelight cast teasing shadows over Mr. Jeon's sharp jawline and dark eyes….

He  reached across you to seize the bottle of wine on the table, and uncorked it in one fluid movement. 

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to your empty glass. 

"That is…" inappropriate, you caught yourself about to say. But it was not. You were alone in your home having supper with your husband. A little alcohol in his presence was nothing unusual or improper. "Yes," you corrected yourself. "Yes, please."

He poured you a glass and gave it to you silently. You sipped the wine and took a deep breath. 

"Mr. Jeon-"

He interrupted you. "You are free to address me by my given name. The servants will consider it strange indeed if you continue to call me Mr. Jeon in our home."

You bit your lip. Enough boundaries had been crossed between you both for one day, in your opinion. Intimacy of that level would not come easily. 

"Perhaps… in time."

Mr. Jeon blinked in surprise but did not press the point. He poured himself a glass of wine and sipped it quietly. You looked at the delicious food and then at the silent, brooding man sitting across from you. 

It was pointless to expect him to make conversation- you knew Mr. Jeon better than that. He was perfectly comfortable with silence. 

"Did you grow up here?" you asked lightly. 

He nodded. "Yes; my sister and I spent our childhood at this estate until I left for my schooling at Oxford."

"The housekeeper seems to know you well."

"She does."

The conversation died out. There was nothing left to do but sip your wine. The glass was soon empty and Mr. Jeon watched-but made no comment- when you reached for the bottle and poured yourself a second glass. 

Once the second glass had been duly ingested in silence, you could feel the light buzzing in your head and your tongue felt looser. 

"Of all the things I imagined about my future since I was a child," you began slowly, prodding at your half-finished  plate with a fork. "I could never have imagined that my wedding night would be like this."

Mr. Jeon raised an eyebrow. 

"Did you spend a lot of time as a child imagining your wedding night?"

You gave him a sharp look. "You are a man. What would you understand about what a young girl thinks about? Marriage is the singular most important event in a woman's life. Everything she does from the moment she is old enough to speak is all leading up to the eventuality of her marriage."

Mr. Jeon was silent. 

"Learn French, Latin and Greek- practice drawing, dress impeccably, smile the right way, practise the art of engaging conversation-" you trailed off and raised an eyebrow at your husband. "I am quite sure nobody has ever asked you to practise the art of engaging conversation, Mr. Jeon."

"Perhaps not," he remarked lightly. 

"I did it all. Every bit of it. Years of lessons, and practice and training to ensure that I was the most desirable young lady in the room. You might call it vanity, Mr. Jeon. But that is what young women are taught to value. Their beauty, their talents and their virtue."

"You still possess all those things," he told you quietly. 

"Yes," you said with a dry laugh. "And now I have no need of them. They are the most useless things in the world to me. They failed to protect me. For all their worth, they could not protect me from complete societal ruin caused by a momentary lapse of judgement."

Mr. Jeon's silence continued. 

"But," you said with a sigh. Your head was beginning to ache. "Of course, this is a waste of time. I will hardly find a sympathetic ear in you, Mr Jeon- a man who considers me so vain and spoiled that he believes I intentionally make my friends cry by attempting to outshine them at the piano."

"That is not-"

"And for your information," you cut him off with a frown. "I was not trying to make Miss Brooke feel inferior by playing the most difficult piece I knew. Miss Brooke was the last thing on my mind.  I was trying to flirt with you. All my attempts that evening had fallen quite flat and I thought at least an impressive performance on the piano would make you pay attention to me."

Mr. Jeon's ears had turned pink. He pressed his lips together and gently took your empty wine glass away from you. 

"I think perhaps you have had too much wine," he said softly. 

You bristled at the suggestion. 

"You need not worry, Mr. Jeon. I am under no delusion that I might have any impact on you. You are perfectly welcome to sleep in your own bedroom and go about your own business and seek… pleasure elsewhere, if you so choose. Please do not feel any compulsion to cater to my vanity. It is quite clear to me that our happiness is not to be found in each other."

His expression was unreadable. He swiftly corked the wine bottle and stood up.

"I think we had best retire for the night."

"That sounds excellent," you replied. You stood too quickly. Your legs felt shaky, but Mr. Jeon was by your side immediately and took your arm to steady you. 

"Careful-"

"I am fine," you mumbled. Your senses were flooded with Mr. Jeon all at once- his large, warm hands grasping your bare arms and his soothing scent invading your thoughts. You looked up at him. His dark eyes were watching you with a tinge of worry. 

"You will fall, if you are not careful-" he pressed. 

"I am fine. I can walk, thank you."

He released you. You stepped away from him and went upstairs to your personal bedroom, where you ordered the surprised ladies' maids to leave you alone before locking the connecting door between your bedrooms. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

If the lack of marital relations on your wedding night did not make it abundantly clear to the household staff that something was wrong with your marriage, then your continued distance from your husband over the next few months was more than sufficient to send the message. 

Wonwoo threw himself into handling business and matters of the estate. His reasoning (though he never said so) seemed to be that the less you saw or spoke to each other, the less chance there was for conflict or arguments. He spent long periods of time away from home handling these ‘matters of the estate’ that you were told little about. On the rare occasions that he was at the manor, he locked himself in his study for hours on end. Sometimes it felt like you lived alone with the housekeepers and maids. 

There was nothing to do.  You were simply alone for the most part with nobody but Snowball and your increasingly melancholy thoughts to keep you company. 

Mrs. Betsy tried, the kind soul. She showed you the large library and persuaded you to take walks in the garden and engaged you in light conversation. She even insisted you accompany her on her weekly trip down to the village to buy supplies; but you found little pleasure in the activity. The villagers seemed wary of you and everyone involved appeared to think that the new wife of the local nobleman had no business walking around the vegetable market. 

Endless days turned to weeks and months. 

Nothing interested you. You received letters often; from Joshua, the Viscountess, your mother, and even Ella. But gossip from London was only a dull reminder of the life you had left behind. News that would have excited the old Miss Hong had almost no impact on the new Mrs. Jeon. Your responses to them were rare and brief. What could you even write about? There was nothing to report. Every day was exactly the same. 

Being alone with your thoughts was the worst part of this. Snowball was, of course, your companion- but his inability to converse or comprehend your emotions meant that even his presence could not drag you out of the downward spiral that you found yourself falling into. You were at the mercy of your own thoughts night and day. 

Was this life? Was this how it was to be? 

What were you even living for? 

The question cropped up in your mind often and you contemplated it deeply; not out of despair but as a genuine, genuine curiosity. You could not return to London society, but at the same time, you had no purpose here. You were married to a man who did not care to speak to you. Indeed, you were nothing more than a burden to Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. You ate the food he provided and sat in his drawing room and lived in his home without providing anything in return.

His home. 

For although the months passed, it only became increasingly clear to you that no length of time would ever make this place your home. 

You sat absently at the fireplace one evening, wrapped in a warm blanket and staring into the crackling fire while lost in your grim contemplations when Mr. Jeon entered the room. 

Snowball ran to greet him; the little Pomeranian had warmed up to your husband early on in your marriage. He gave her a little pat before turning to you.

“Have you had supper?” he asked you. 

You nodded. 

“Mrs. Betsy says that you have not moved from that chair all day,” he said slowly. You looked up at him. Mr. Jeon was in his riding clothes. He had evidently just returned from a journey. You did not know where he had been. His dark hair was tousled and his jaw clenched tightly. 

You blinked. “My apologies. Was I expected elsewhere?”

He stiffened. “No, I did not mean- are you well? The village has a doctor and if he is not competent enough, then we can send for one from the next town over.” 

“I am not ill.” 

“But you do not look healthy. When was the last time you left the manor?” 

The question should have made you angry. If you had been the same person you were before marrying Mr. Jeon, you might have issued a sharp retort about how your movements (or lack thereof) were none of his concern considering that he certainly told you nothing of his coming-and-going. 

But the anger would not manifest. It was as though the part of you that pressed the trigger on your characteristically quick temper had gone completely numb. 

“Two days ago,” you answered his question simply. “I took a walk about the gardens.” 

“I have told you before that if you wish to go anywhere, the carriage is always at your disposal,” he continued. “You need only inform the butler and he will have it brought out for you.” 

“I am aware.” 

You saw a flicker in his eyes; it was a brief flash of something that you could not place. A mixture of realisation, despair or perhaps even frustration. Mr. Jeon had always been a closed book to you. Living with him for months had done nothing to make his silences or intense looks easier to comprehend. 

There was nothing you understood about this man that you had not already known on your wedding day. 

“I insist that you go down to the village with Mrs. Betsy tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be pleasant,” he said. 

“Very well.” 

Mr. Jeon stood there for a long moment, watching you in silence before he turned and left the room. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Mrs. Betsy was always in good humour. You were surprised that despite your long silences and reserved demeanour towards her, she never ceased her attempts to engage you in pleasant conversation. There were entire days when her voice was the only cheerful one you heard. 

She rambled on eagerly about the seasons’ cabbage harvest as you walked around the market with her. Cabbages were not a topic that interested you; but then again, nothing seemed to pique your interest of late. You held Snowball’s leash loosely in your hand. The spoiled little pup refused to move past the butcher’s stall, so you paused to purchase a scrap of meat for him. 

“Miss! Could I pet your dog?” 

You turned and saw a young boy of barely eight or nine with a bright smile on his face eyeing Snowball. He was accompanied by an older woman who looked horrified. 

“Fred!” the woman scolded him sharply before offering you a clumsy curtsey. “My sincere apologies, Mrs. Jeon, I am afraid Fred is a little outspoken. I will ensure he does not trouble you again-” 

“Not at all,” you reassured her lightly. “It was polite of Fred to ask permission before approaching. You are welcome to pet Snowball, Fred. He is very friendly.” 

You did not say what you wanted to say- which was that this young boy was the first villager who had treated you in a friendly manner. You could not blame them for their wariness. Your husband was the local nobleman and controlled their livelihoods, so it was natural that they feared offending you. Fred, however, was delighted to kneel down in front of Snowball and scratch him behind the ears. 

“Are you his mother?” you asked the older woman who stood back and watched Fred anxiously. 

She shook her head quickly. “No, Mrs. Jeon. My name is Sister Lynn. I work with the orphanage."

“I did not know there was an orphanage in the village.” 

Mrs. Betsy spoke up brightly. "Indeed, there is. It is small but very well managed. Mr. Jeon's grandfather established it many decades ago. Even now, it survives almost entirely on donations from the Jeon family. There are about 11 children there currently and Sister Lynn runs it  single-handedly." 

Fred looked up at you with a toothy grin. "We have a dog at the orphanage as well! His name is Tucker. He would love to meet Snowball!"

Sister Lynn laughed nervously. "Fred…"

"I think it is an excellent idea for Snowball to meet Tucker," you replied simply. "Lead the way."

Sister Lynn seemed anxious as you followed Fred to the orphanage. She was certainly not prepared for an unexpected visit from the wife of the orphanage's primary benefactor. The orphanage was a quaint little house on the edge of the village and you felt a sudden warmth emanating from the place the moment you stepped through the opening in the fence. 

"Everyone! Come meet Snowball!" Fred called out eagerly as soon as he entered the drawing room. 

But Sister Lynn had had enough. 

"No. First you will all stand in a line and introduce yourselves to Mrs. Jeon," she ordered all the children who came running up. The children hesitated and organised themselves clumsily into a  line in front of you. The youngest boy was no older than four, and the eldest was a pretty young girl who looked just over fourteen. 

They went in a line to state their names and ages- and for the first time in what felt like months you allowed yourself a small smile. Their clumsy curtseys and stammered introductions were the picture of innocence. For a few brief moments, the creeping dreary thoughts that had so thoroughly invaded your mind were kept fully at bay. 

Once the introductions were complete, the younger children ran to surround Snowball. Your Pomeranian, delighted at the attention, lay down on the carpet and freely offered his belly to the children for pets and scratches. 

"The children seem quite happy and well cared for," you remarked to Sister Lynn. Her eyes widened and she seemed almost relieved at your words of approval.

"They are a wonderful bunch, Mrs. Jeon," she replied warmly. 

"What happens to them when they become of age?" you wondered. 

"The boys usually leave for work- Mr. Jeon is usually kind enough to find something for them to do to earn their keep. The ones who are good at numbers are hired to help with accounting for the estate, and the Jeons have even helped others acquire jobs in London as clerks and bookkeepers."

You nodded. "And the girls?" 

"Some of the girls get married- others go on to become seamstresses or take other simple jobs. I wish I could do more for them. Some of them are very clever and could probably go on to become governesses if they only knew a little French and had someone to teach them drawing and music."

You raised an eyebrow. "You cannot find them tutors?"

Sister Lynn flushed. "The best tutors are teaching young noblewomen such as yourself in London, Mrs. Jeon. Even if we had the money I could never persuade anyone to come out to the countryside to teach our young girls. But they do a very good job of teaching themselves with books."

You nodded. "That is admirable indeed. I should like to see what they learn."

"Marie is our brightest one," Sister Lynn told you before calling over the eldest girl. "Marie! Escort Mrs. Jeon into the study and show her your books and writing, my dear."

Marie came over and curtsied prettily for you before guiding you into the schoolroom. She was an intelligent, soft-spoken young girl and she showed you some of the poetry she had written. 

"Your handwriting is excellent," you told her kindly. "As is your English. These are the books you use?"

Marie nodded at the shelf of textbooks. You pulled one down and frowned. 

"This geography textbook is almost 15 years old. Are you still learning from this?" you asked her.

Marie blushed. "It's the only one we have, Mrs. Jeon," she admitted shyly. "Sister Lynn does her best to educate us, but there is only so much she knows, and there is no school nearby which will accept girls."

You nodded. "I see."

Marie guided you into the next room. "And here we have the playroom-"

You froze. The playroom was a fairly large room filled with toys and drawing boards and unfinished art. But the first thing that caught your eye was a large wooden piano in the corner of the room. 

"You have a pianoforte?"

Marie nodded eagerly. She hurried over and pulled out the stool in front of the instrument. "It was donated to the orphanage by the Jeons' a few years ago when they redecorated their manor. They had no room for it-  and there was nobody in the family who liked to play. I taught myself a song from an old piano book I found. May I show you?" she asked hopefully. 

You nodded. 

Marie blushed but sat down in front of the piano and played a simple tune. She was shaky- her fingers were not always in the right positions and it was evident that she had no formal training. But it was a pleasant song all the same. 

"That was very well done," you told her. "You learned that yourself from a book?"

Marie nodded. 

Mrs. Betsy, who was standing a little distance behind you, gave you a smile. "Do you play, Mrs. Jeon? I am sure a Viscount's sister would certainly have been taught to play at least in her youth."

You bit your lip. "I do play.'

Marie's eyes brightened. "Would you play something for us, Mrs. Jeon?"

Sister Lynn was about to scold her for making an inappropriate request of her benefactress but before she could get the words out, you had seated yourself in front of the instrument. The keys were old and worn but it was evidently still an excellent instrument. 

It had been months since you had touched a piano but your fingers danced over the instrument as though you had practiced the tune just yesterday. It was pure muscle memory- some of the happiest times in your life had been spent in front of the piano, and for a moment you almost forgot where you were as you allowed your fingers to dance on the keys to their heart's content. 

The children burst into applause. 

You let your fingers fall from the piano and turned to see everyone watching you. Marie was staring in awe and Mrs. Betsy had a warm twinkle in her eye. You felt a sudden rish of adrenaline. 

For the first time in months, you felt alive. 

Sister Lynn rushed over to you. "Mrs. Jeon, that was the most beautiful performance I have-"

"I am afraid I must leave now, Sister Lynn," you informed the older woman briskly. "But there are some things I will require from you."

Sister Lynn nodded. "Of course, Mrs. Jeon."

"I should like a list of any textbooks in the schoolroom that are over two years old- I will have them all replaced myself, as soon as possible. And you will need to make room in the girls' schedules for extra lessons. I think French on Wednesdays, and music on Fridays would be suitable."

Sister Lynn looked bewildered. "Extra lessons? But who will teach them?"

"I will."

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Teaching the young girls at the orphanage was, at the least, a welcome distraction that kept the melancholy thoughts from consuming you for a few hours every week. 

Mrs. Betsy was happy to ensure that the carriage was ready and waiting to take you into town every Wednesday and Friday. She could not accompany you herself, since her duties did not permit so much leisure- and perhaps it was for the best. Mrs. Betsy's presence was not unpleasant, but you were still uncomfortably aware that her loyalties lay with your husband. 

Marie was your star pupil. You could tell that the young girl admired you greatly, and she was a very fast learner. Hardly two months into your lessons she was reciting French poetry with a near-perfect accent and was a better piano player than Miss Brooke could ever hope to be. 

You returned from your lessons one Friday evening later that winter to find that Mr. Jeon was, to your surprise, sitting in the drawing room. He seemed tense. 

"I thought we might have supper together," Mr. Jeon suggested to you lightly. The words were calm, but you saw something in his eyes that was familiar. Something that was often reflected in your own eyes.

It was a familiar kind of sadness. 

"Of course," you replied. "I will dress and join your shortly."

You noticed the stiffness in Wonwoo's shoulders as he sat across from you in the dining room. You both ate in silence; not unusual for the few meals you shared. He looked up at you about halfway through the meal.  

"I received a letter from my friend, Mr. Kim Mingyu," he informed you slowly. "The social season in London has come to an end, as you know, and Mingyu will be stopping by our estate tomorrow evening and spending a night here before resuming his journey through the countryside."

You nodded. "Alright."

"You have no objection?"

You blinked at him. "This is your home. Why should I have any objection to you hosting your friend in your own home?"

"Because-" Mr. Jeon began, but stopped himself. "Never mind. I only wanted to ensure that we would not be causing you any discomfort. You need not dine with us if you do not wish to."

You nodded. "I am sure as old friends, you would have much to discuss. I would not want to be in the way."

"That is… considerate of you."

"Of course."

Mr. Jeon took a deep breath and turned his attention back to his meal. You watched him silently for a few moments. He was ever the brick wall; as always, you had no idea what went on in your husband's mind or what he thought about. 

But this silence… it could not go on forever. 

"I have been visiting the orphanage," you told him slowly. "A few times a week."

Mr. Jeon nodded. He did not seem surprised. "I heard. Mrs. Betsy mentioned it to me. And my clerk informed me of the books you purchased for the schoolroom."

You flushed- suddenly realising that you had spent money without consulting Wonwoo. You had been so accustomed to the Viscount covering all your expenses that the thought had not occurred to you that Mr. Jeon was now responsible for your finances. 

"I should have spoken to you-"

"Not at all, " Mr. Jeon cut you off. "If I had known that the schoolroom needed new books, I would have purchased them myself. And in any case- it is equally your money to choose to spend as you see fit."

You swallowed. "Right. Thank you."

He simply nodded. The rest of the meal passed in the usual silence, and you both went upstairs to your separate bedrooms. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

You were acquainted with Kim Mingyu from past social seasons in London. You had danced with the man at a few balls, and remembered him as a very handsome, charming and easy-going gentleman who had a reputation for capturing and breaking the hearts of London's young ladies. 

The Kim Mingyu that arrived at the Jeon estate on horseback the next evening looked nothing like the man you knew. He appeared, to put it simply, to be on the receiving end of  heartbreak for the first time in his life.  

"Mrs. Jeon," Mingyu greeted you with a stiff nod as he descended his horse. There was no smile on his face and he looked tired. "I apologise for intruding upon your hospitality at such short notice. I hope I am not disturbing you."

"Not at all, Mr. Kim," you greeted him politely. "You are most welcome."

"We will not disturb you. There are matters of business we wish to discuss, so we will be dining at the inn tonight," Mr. Jeon informed you as he laced up his riding gear. The stable boy brought out another horse for your husband. 

You nodded. "I see. Very well."

The two gentlemen rode out without further ado. One of the maids standing near the foyer was pink in the face and clearly suppressing a giggle. You raised an eyebrow at her. 

"And what is so amusing, Rosie?" you asked her lightly. 

Rosie blushed. "Sorry, madam. I was only remembering the last time Mr. Kim was here at the estate. It was when he and the master were on break from their studies at Oxford. They drove out to have dinner at the inn a few towns over but the elder Mr. Jeon had a manservant follow them and discovered that they had gone… well, certainly not to the inn."

You blinked. "Sorry?" you asked, confused. "Where had they gone?"

Rosie blushed further. "Miss, I really can't say- please don't make me. Mrs. Betsy would have my backside if she found out I was telling you-"

"Is Mrs. Betsy your employer?"

Rosie hesitated. "No, madam. You are.'

"Then tell me."

She twisted her hands anxiously and then spat out "They had gone to see some… ladies of the night. Mr. Kim admitted that it was entirely his fault and the elder Mr. Jeon was furious, so he had Mr. Kim banned from the estate."

You felt nauseous.

"Ah. Yes, I see," you replied awkwardly. 

Rosie's eyes widened. "I am sure that it is not where they have gone now!" she cried. 

You gave her a sharp look. "Of course not," you told her firmly, though you felt absolutely none of the confidence that you displayed. Regardless of what your husband was or was not doing, you could not allow a servant to gossip about it. "Mr. Jeon is a married man."

Rosie nodded. "Of course! Of course, Mr. Jeon is a very honourable gentleman and I am sure that even on that night in question-"

"Thank you, Rosie. That will be all."

You quickly walked away from the maid, who looked horrified. You had not seriously considered that your husband might be using ladies of the night, as Rosie called them, to satisfy his carnal needs- after all, the two of you had not even consummated your marriage. You had even told him on your wedding night that he was welcome to seek his pleasures elsewhere. 

You tried to push the thought from your mind as you had dinner and went to bed early. But sleep would not come. 

You laid awake for what felt like hours, straining your ears in an attempt to hear the noise of your husband going to bed in the adjoining room. It was almost midnight when you finally heard the sound of Mr. Jeon’s door click- followed by complete silence. You tossed and turned restlessly before rising and putting on your dressing gown and going downstairs. Sleep would not find you tonight. You passed by the drawing room and were surprised to see that the fire was still lit and there was someone inside. 

Mr. Kim Mingyu sat in front of the fire, staring into it deeply as though it held the secrets to eternal life. 

“Mr. Kim?” 

He jumped and turned to face you in a sluggish manner. Mr. Kim’s  eyes were unfocused; and as you took a step further into the drawing room your olfactory senses were assaulted by the pungent smell of whisky. He relaxed when he saw you, and turned his face back towards the fire. 

“Mrs. Jeon- I apologise if I woke you,” Mingyu mumbled. 

You shook your head. “Not at all. Is everything all right, Mr. Kim? Is there a problem with your accommodations in the guest quarters? I can wake the household staff if you require something.” 

Mr. Kim did not turn his eyes away from the fire. “No. I don’t need anything. I don’t deserve anything,” he said as his head fell back onto the armchair. “I am a monster.” 

He was evidently very inebriated. You crossed the room and stood precariously behind a sofa to keep some distance between you both, but be in a better position to address the man to his face. He slumped back in the armchair with a groan and turned his unfocused eyes to look at you. 

“A monster?” you asked lightly. “And what have you done that is so monstrous?” 

Mingyu chuckled. “Greed, Mrs. Jeon. I was greedy. I saw something that was not mine to take but I simply could not resist. I took advantage of her innocence, I knowingly crossed the lines of friendship and played with her emotions -and now she believes herself to be in love with me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “She believes herself to be in love with you?” 

Mingyu scoffed. “She doesn't know what she speaks of. She is too innocent to comprehend how valuable she is. She is too naive to understand love.” 

“I pity her,” you replied simply. “It would be very painful indeed, to be in love with a man like you.” 

Mingyu frowned. “What?” 

“I don't blame you,” you continued. “It is how you gentlemen were raised. All your life, people have told you that you are more intelligent and logical and rational than women so you have grown to believe it. You presume to think that you are guilty of manipulating an adult woman into falling in love with you; as though she was stupider than you.”

Mingyu frowned. “I never said she was stupider than me. She is certainly much, much smarter.” 

“Then if you had an iota of respect for this young lady, you would do her the courtesy of believing her when she says that she loves you.” 

Mingyu said nothing. He turned away from you and stared back at the fire. He was silent for a long moment and then he took a deep breath. 

"Those…" he said slowly, "may be the wisest words I have heard all day."

"I assume you had not consulted any women."

"You assume correctly," he replied. Mr. Kim turned to you with a small frown. "You are a clever woman, Mrs. Jeon. Far too clever to be wasting away in a remote countryside estate in a marriage you never wanted."

"And you are too clever to be running from a woman who loves you and finding meaningless comfort in the company of a prostitute."

Mingyu let out a hacking noise that was halfway between a laugh and a cough. "A prostitute? Strange words to call your husband," he remarked. 

You flushed. "I was not referring to Mr. Jeon. I am perfectly well-informed of what dinner at the inn really means."

Mingyu let out a proper laugh. "Oh, Mrs. Jeon. I have overestimated your cleverness, then. I really hope you do not think that Wonwoo is enjoying his time at brothels. I will be extremely concerned by how little you know your husband."

You stiffened. "He is not an easy man to get to know."

"Certainly not. He will go to any lengths to avoid talking about his feelings and he builds not just walls but fortresses around his true emotions. But surely you knew that before you married Wonwoo?"

"Our marriage was not… you know the circumstances in which we married…" you mumbled. 

Mingyu nodded. "I do. I also know that Wonwoo carries with him the burden of having ruined your life and stolen your happiness from you, perhaps forever. The man is drowning under the weight of his guilt."

You stared at him in disbelief. "I never once blamed him for-"

"You did not need to. Wonwoo may appear stoic, but he is a victim to his own conscience. In any case, I can assure you that he is not touring brothels while you sit here. He is aware of how miserable you are and it only serves to enhance his own misery."

You wrapped your dressing gown around yourself more tightly. 

Could it be true? If anyone, anyone could give you answers about what Mr. Jeon hid behind that sharp, unreadable face then you would have expected it to be Kim Mingyu. But how could it be possible? Wonwoo had shown no signs of guilt. He had never once apologised for any of the circumstances leading up to your marriage. 

In fact, your husband had gone out of his way to avoid you, to leave you alone in this empty haunting manor and let you wither away in loneliness. 

But what had you done? You blamed him for being distant and difficult but what efforts had you truly made to understand the man you married? You had simply drowned in your own misery and conveniently accepted the walls he put up between the two of you as fixtures. 

You were complicit in the ruin of this marriage. 

"It is late," you said shakily. "I must-"

You were cut off by a noise- you turned around and saw Wonwoo enter the room. His eyes looked tired and he carried a candle in his right hand. A small frown appeared on his face.  

"What are you both doing awake?" he asked doubtfully. "It is past midnight."

Mingyu stood up from his armchair unsteadily. "I was a little drunk and I sat down here for a while. I must have made some noise that woke you both up. Sorry; I'll be going to bed now."

He stumbled out of the drawing room. Mr. Jeon turned to you with a worried frown. 

"Are you all right?" he asked. 

You nodded. "Yes- of course. Snowball was growing restless in my room so came downstairs to let him out and stopped to speak to Mr. Kim when I saw him sitting here."

Mr. Jeon nodded. "All right. We should return to bed."

He turned to leave. The dim light of the fire lit up the profile of his handsome but tired and worn face. How had you not seen it before? Mr. Jeon carried a sadness within him too; one that had not been there before he married you, and which was growing darker and heavier day by day. 

"Wonwoo," you whispered. 

He froze. His face was turned away from you but you could see the way his broad shoulders tightened and his entire back stiffened underneath his white cotton nightshirt. 

You had never called him by his name before. 

After a long moment, he turned and looked at you. The remnants of surprise had still not faded from his eyes.  

"Yes?" he asked gently. 

"The… the children at the orphanage are putting on a performance for the village on Saturday evening. They have been practising hard all week. I thought, perhaps… it would be encouraging for them if you attended. If we attended."

Wonwoo stared at you. You saw the brief flash of emotion cross his face before he could control it and you knew that he understood your intentions. He understood that this was not a casual suggestion. This was not about the children, or the orphanage. 

This was you taking the first step in your marriage. 

"Of course," Wonwoo said finally. "That sounds wonderful."

You released the breath that you had been holding. 

"I will let them know. They will be very excited, I am sure."

Wonwoo nodded. He opened his mouth for a moment, and then paused, almost as though he had reconsidered what he wanted to say. Then he gave you a small, careful smile. 

"Good night," he said. 

"Good night."

—----------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I'M SORRY THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO END IN PART 3 BUT BEFORE I REALISED IT I HAD WRITTEN 7K SO PLEASE DON'T KILL ME, I PROMISE I WILL END IT NEXT CHAPTER (I think)

[yokohamapound]

Since tis Spooky Season, how about some wedding headcanons for our goth boys Bram and Akutagawa? :3

It might no longer be spooky season but goth bois are timeless. <3

Characters: Bram Stoker, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Contents: gn!reader, nsfw mention

Bram Stoker

Bram is certainly the marrying type. Once he’s found someone he feels he can spend the long years of eternity with, he’ll want to lock you down quickly and make it official. Dating is a foreign concept to him, but he will spend some time courting you. He’s very likely the one who proposed marriage, and like, you have eyes, so of course you were going to accept. Who doesn’t want to marry a handsome vampire lord?

It’s not enough to call Bram ‘old-fashioned’. The man is at least several hundred years old, (depending on whether his age is based on the actual Bram Stoker or Vlad Tepes, basis of the legend for Dracula). He’s between approx 170-600 years old. He’s seen trends become traditions and vanish entirely. The wedding would probably be some flavour of traditional, whether that’s a Western white wedding, or a wedding steeped in his spouse’s culture. If you really wanted to, you could have a historical-themed wedding to make Bram feel at home—just expect him to be finicky on the minor details.

“This is the incorrect type of date for this pastry.”

It might take some doing to find a priest willing to marry you to a vampire, or you can forge the documents and have a civil ceremony. It depends on whether or not Bram can actually set foot in a church. He’s probably relieved to discover civil ceremonies are a thing. 

Bram looks beautiful in a suit. Just imagine it. A suit tailored to his ridiculous, 6’5” height, possibly a tailcoat, with a cravat, his long hair tied back. 

You’ll have to bring him up to speed and explain that, apart from certain cultural traditions, dowries aren’t that common anymore, and that he doesn’t have to offer your father 50 goats for your hand in marriage. 

Bram’s a pretty romantic guy, but he always does it with style. He pulls out your chair, his hand is going to rest on the small of your back, and he takes the lead in the first dance waltz, no matter your gender.

The speeches will be short—he’s had to put up with too many of Fukuchi’s soliloquies to want to hear any more monologuing. The wedding dinner—feast, he insists on calling it—is sumptuous, although Bram doesn’t partake. (You’re his wedding feast and he’d rather enjoy that in private.)

Godspeed on your wedding night. Bram’s spent years without a lower half of his body and now he has it back, and a spouse to enjoy. He is…pent up, shall we say~

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Poor Akutagawa is still reeling over the fact that he’s getting married. I would say that either you proposed, or Dazai planted the idea in Akutagawa’s head that it was time for him to put a ring on it. If Akutagawa proposed, your ring is some beautiful antique with a large stone and a creepy story attached to it. Don’t forget that Akutagawa makes bank in the Port Mafia. 

Please, please, please plan a goth wedding.

Please remember that this is the same young man who said this when asked what he would give as a wedding present: “I'd gift them the enemy's freshly severed head decorated with bloody barren flowers.” Suffice it to say, Akutagawa should not be left in charge of either your gift registry or the flower arrangements. You will end up with a load of obscure antiques, knives, and bunches of rotting flowers “to show the briefness of our lifespans.” 

Maybe compromise with dried flower garlands or even black roses if you want to go full 2007 My Chemical Romance-core. (Look me in the eye and tell me Akutagawa wouldn’t look up if you played him a G-note on the piano.)

He hates being the centre of attention in the actual wedding, so he’s more than happy to deflect it all toward you instead. The moments he seems happiest are when he gets to see Gin wearing a bridesmaid dress, when Dazai stands up to make a speech (during which Akutagawa sits up like he’s in a school assembly while the headmaster is speaking), and during the vows, when he’s focusing on you and only you. 

He looks wonderful in his suit - let him have full tails and black tie and he'll be content.

Your wedding photographs look like one of those austere Victorian family portraits, save for Tachihara throwing up the bunny ears behind Gin’s head. 

Akutagawa has a secret sweet tooth he won’t admit to, which is why he tries to pretend that he hasn’t had three slices of chocolate cake. 

Either get Dazai drunk or put him in a corner with a plate of crab cakes to keep him occupied, because you really don’t need him making sly comments when it’s time for you and Akutagawa to climb into the car and head off for your honeymoon. His wedding gift for Akutagawa is an inhaler and a note saying, “You’ll need this! xoxo Dazai.”

[footiehoefics]

Change of heart

Sikeee, I'm posting it right now hehe. @trentskinator98 my love has been waiting for this one ever since I made the polls HAHAHA so I'm so excited for you to read it and for everyone else as well! I had this idea on my notes for so long so writing it was so fun! I hope you guys enjoy it and if you have any ideas you are welcome to message me or send me an ask :)! TW: none, Angst/Fluff, 3.5k words

gif: @pernillecfcw

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you were satisfied with how your look had turned out. Light yellow dress, white high heels, hair down, bronzed natural makeup and a little bit of jewelry. You turned around to see your boyfriend struggling with his tie, again. 

“Why are this things so fucking hard to put on?” he mumbled to himself

“Mase, baby, there will come a day where I won’t be able to do your tie so you really have to learn.” you said smiling, walking towards him to help him. 

“Stop, don't say that, I am not thinking about your death right when we are about to go to a wedding.” he said, giving up with the black tie. 

“Oh my God,” you laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that weirdo, I just mean maybe one day I won’t be with you getting ready.” you said, grabbing the tie getting closer to him. 

Your face was almost touching his, your arms wrapped around his shoulder trying to fix his tie situation with the stubborn collar he had. “You look beautiful by the way.” Mason said, making you blush. “You still blush at my compliments?” he asked you, smiling. “Of course I do.” you said now looking at him and giving him a peck. “And you…” you said, giving him another kiss, “look  very handsome. You need to wear a suit more.” He smiled at you, kissing you again. He brushed his tongue over your bottom lip asking for access but you knew if it got heated you wouldn't leave in 5 minutes. “Mmm Mase no” you mumbled in between his kisses. “Why not?” “Because we have to leave now, the wedding is in 30 minutes.” You detach yourself from him, smirking at yourself at how horny your boyfriend was. 

You grabbed your purse and walked down stairs to head out. You were excited about the wedding. One of yours and Mason’s friend was getting married to his highschool sweetheart who you both knew very well. Marc, your friend, actually introduced you both 6 months ago. It had been 4 months of heaven with Mason. It had its bumps since his football career was not great towards the end of the season, but you tried to be there for him while giving him his space and he appreciated it more than anything. 

Pulling up to the venue, you saw Ben, Kai and Sophia waiting for you two at the entrance. 

“Wooww you look insane.” you said to Sophia while getting out of the car. “Thank you.” Ben replied, smiling. “Not you Ben.” You told him, rolling your eyes playfully at him. 

Both of you greeted everyone with hugs and made your way into the wedding ceremony. Hand in hand, you both were in awe of the venue and the decoration. It looked beautiful. It was an outdoor ceremony during the afternoon with a perfect view of the sunset. The party however, would be inside one of the ballrooms of the very fancy hotel  which you were now dying to see. 

“This is so beautiful, wow.” you said in awe of everything. One of the servers came towards all of you and offered drinks which you gladly accepted. 

“Kai, we really need to start looking for wedding venues.” Sophia said, admiring the whole place. You laughed at her comment and Kai just rolled his eyes. 

“When are you planning on doing the wedding?” Mason asked, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Next summer, after the season is done-” Kai tried saying when Sophia interrupted him “Which means I will do all the wedding preparations while he is playing football every 3 days.” Both you and Mason laughed at her comment. 

“Soph, are you going to be like a bridezilla?” Mason asked giggling. “Oh stop, I hope for my sake not.” Kai replied 

You were engrossed in their conversation and the jokes when you noticed someone entering the venue. 

You couldn’t miss him, and it was not a surprise to you he was here. After all, he and Marc were friends. Joe, your ex boyfriend started greeting people once he entered. You gulped nervously. Having your boyfriend and your ex boyfriend at the same wedding was not ideal.

Joe and you had broken up almost a year and half ago. It wasn’t a quick relationship, you were with him for 4 years. He had proposed to you even. He had invited his whole family, leaving your family completely out of it, and proposed on a lake. When he proposed you were shocked. You were not expecting it at all, due to the fact that he had cheated on you a month prior. He did not know you knew he had cheated, so the audacity of him to propose after cheating made your blood boil. You found out about his infidelity 3 days before he proposed. You of course rejected his proposal, leaving him in a state of shock. 

You loved him, of course you did. However, there was never a point in your relationship where you thought you would marry him. He was not the dream man you always thought you’d end up with. To be completely honest, you had stayed with him for so long because it felt easy. It scared you leaving him after building a life with him and finding someone new, even though you knew you needed someone else. 

When you found out about him cheating, it hurt, but not nearly as much as you had thought. Maybe because you could finally use that as an excuse to leave him? 

When he started getting on one knee, you immediately knew what he was doing. You wanted to grab his arms and pull him up and avoid the embarrassment. It pissed you off. He took that away from you. Your marriage proposal was supposed to be one of the best moments of your life, and he took away that moment from you. 

Long story short, you said no and explained why. He turned white as a ghost and didn't even try to deny it. You spent almost 30 minutes figuring out what to do with his family who were in the cabin waiting to surprise you both. You decided to go to a hotel and stay away from him. To this day you don't know what he said to his family. The next day you went to the cabin, grabbed your things and left him. 

Mason knew all of this. He knew he had proposed, how he cheated on you and everything shitty he did to you during your relationship. One of the first dates with Mason was a golf date and dinner at a pub. You stayed in that pub until 3 am talking about everything. You opened up so much to him. Ever since that day you both knew you were it, although you had never said it to each other. 

As soon as you saw him, you got visibly nervous. You didn't even want to say hi to him. You also didn't want Mason to talk to him. Joe loved to rile people up, you knew if Joe said anything to Mason, he would get pissed and a scene would happen. You didn't want the wedding to become a fighting pit. Today was not about you, Joe or Mason. It was about the love of your friends.

Mason snapped you out of your thoughts by handing you another drink. “You okay?” he asked, grabbing your hand and rubbing it with his thumb. “Yea I’m fine…should we go sit down?” you asked him, smiling. He nodded his head, but he knew you like the back of his hand, and he could tell something was bothering you. 

—-

The ceremony was beautiful. Vows always made you tear up, resulting in Mason making fun of you and Sophia lending you powder to fix your make up. 

The bride and the groom made their exit and you were all guided to the party. Outside looked like a painting with the sunset in the background, but inside it looked like you were in a Palace. It was beautiful, there was a big bar, a dance floor, the buffet filled with delicious food and all the tables beautifully decorated with flowers. 

You were seated between Mason and Sophia. Your table was great, it was a mix of Mason’s friends and yours. You were having a really lovely night you had forgotten Joe was there. 

That was until everyone got up to dance.  All of you had a bit to drink so everyone at that point was tipsy including you both. You left the dance floor to go to the bar and grab more drinks for everyone. 

You were about to thank the waiter when you felt a cold hand on your shoulder making you turn around. 

“Hello stranger.” Joe said, smirking. You saw his piercing blue eyes stare at you, you didn’t know what to say. 

“Long time no see right?” He asked kind of hugging you sideways. You didn’t want to be rude so just smiled and lightly hugged him back.

“Yea long time no see.” you took a sip of your drink, not sure what else to say. I mean, there was nothing to say really. 

“Who are you here with?” Joe asked you sitting down on the stool in front of him 

“Oh I’m with my boyfriend.” you replied

“That’s right you’re dating Mason right? The football guy? Yea, Marc told me about that.” he said, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Um yea, we’ve been dating for a little while…” you wanted to get out of that conversation. You had no idea how to hold the conversation, and you knew it looked weird. You also didn’t want Mason getting a bad impression of what was happening. 

You started looking everywhere for him, your eyes darting from left to right, trying to avoid Joe’s gaze. 

“You looking for him already? I bored you that quickly?” he asked, laughing. 

“No…I just um…need to give him his drink-” you stuttered but got cut off by someone hugging you from behind.

“Ayoooo guys I’m so happy you’re here!” It was Marc. He looked wasted. You could smell the tequila, and you could see a red stain of wine already on his shirt. 

“I’m so glad you guys are talking! Do we get some shots?” Marc asked, almost yelling in your ear. 

“Oh no thank-” you were about to say. 

“Yes please!” Joe replied laughing at Marc’s state. “What do we want? Tequila? Jagger? Vodka? The lady chooses” 

“Um, just tequila, with lime please.” You replied. You were feeling uncomfortable being there. Marc was now in between you two with one arm over your shoulder and one over his shoulder. 

You took your shot, instantly regretting it. It was really strong. You were about to say goodbye, but you felt a pair of warm hands grab your waist. You turned around, and were relieved to see your boyfriend. 

“Oh hey. I was about to go and give you your drink.” you said smiling trying to get as far away as you could form Joe so they didn’t start talking. You handed Mason his drink and saw he was looking directly at Joe. 

“Well, well Mason!” Joe said enthusiastically. “We finally meet, I’m Joe, your girl’s ex boyfriend.” Joe said, smirking at him. Mason shook his hand with a blank expression on his face. You wanted to go hide in the corner from the awkward tension you felt. 

“Heyyy what about another shot now with Mase!” Marc exclaimed. “Marc, I think you had too many shots already.” Mason said with a tone of concern as he watched his friend stumble towards the bar table. 

“Oh c’mon it’s his wedding, let him enjoy himself.” Joe said, patting Marc in the back. “I would’ve gotten this drunk if we had gotten married.” Joe laughed along with Marc. You were now red in the face. This was exactly what you wanted to avoid. You just laughed awkwardly, trying to not make it awkward but Mason was stone cold serious. 

“Too bad you cheated on her and were a piece of shit…” Mason said, almost mumbling to himself taking a sip of his drink but all of you could hear him clearly. 

Joe stood up from the bar stool, “What did you say?” he said, visibly angry at Mason. 

“I said you are a piece of sh-” “Okay, okay, how about we go back to the table and leave Marc and Joe?” you said getting in between him and Mason. 

“Yea guys c’mon we are having a good ti-” Marc fell off the stool trying to break the situation. “Oh shit.” you tried getting him up, but Joe got a hold of him and took him outside to his now wife. 

Once you saw he was with his wife, you turned around and Mason was not there anymore. You started walking back to the table, and saw he was walking in the same direction as you. 

“Mason!” you tried calling him over the loud music. He didn’t stop at the table, instead he went straight towards the bathrooms. You followed him there and called him out again. “Hey don’t ignore me please” you said grabbing his arm making him stop. 

“What do you want?” he had never used that cold tone with you and you didn’t like it. 

“Babe, I’m sorry about that.” you didn't know how to start, but sorry seems good enough. 

He didn’t answer you. “I mean, what was I supposed to say? I didn’t want to cause a scene-” you tried saying. 

“Oh yea so me shutting up was the solution.” He put his hand in his pocket, and replied with an annoyed expression. 

“What? No. I just…” his response kind of shocked you. You both had never argued before and never had this big of problems. “Mase I just didn’t want this to turn into something more okay? We are at a wedding, Jesus.” 

“Yea whatever, you can go and hang out with him more if you want.” With that he turned around and entered the men’s bathroom leaving you speechless. 

Did you fuck up? Maybe. But the situation made you uncomfortable and you were terrible at handling those types of situations. His comment and reaction upset you, but he had the right to be mad. 

—-

You got back to the table, and it was empty. Everyone was on the dance floor  having a great time. The whole night had been magical and amazing. That was until 20 minutes ago when Joe had approached you. 

“Your boyfriend went missing again?” you heard someone say behind you. You turned your head around to see Joe smirking. 

“Don’t Joe, please.” you said, rolling your eyes and turning your head away from him. He grabbed the chair next to you and sat down. If Mason saw you again with him after what happened he would get more pissed. 

As soon as he sat down, you stood up and started walking away. “Oh c’mon, is your boyfriend gonna have a melt down if he sees you with me?” Joe said, making you stop in your tracks. 

“Listen to me, I don’t want to talk to you okay? I don’t want you to fuck this up for me! I respect him enough to walk away from a bad situation, unlike you with me who had no respect for me whatsoever!” you said angrily. 

Joe was taken back by your response. “You really need to get over it my God…” 

“Joe, I did, I probably wouldn't be dating anyone otherwise you idiot.” you said calming down a bit more. “I got over the fact you cheated on me and had the fucking audacity to propose to me after the fact, you took that away from me, a moment that was supposed to be the best moment ever, you took it away. So please, fuck off, leave me alone, and let me enjoy the night with my boyfriend okay?” Joe looked at you not knowing what to say, so he just left. 

—-

After an hour or so sitting at the empty table, everyone was instructed to sit down and listen to the speeches. Mason came to sit down by your side, this time not holding your hand or placing his hand on your thigh. It was weird being that close to him and not touching him. You knew he was still mad so you gave him space. 

“You okay babe?” you heard Sophia whisper in your ear. 

“Yea I’m good don’t worry.” you sheepishly smiled at her. She knew there was something going on, but didn’t want to ask you right at that moment. Instead she just leaned her head on your shoulder to offer comfort and you leaned your head on hers. 

—-

The speeches were done, and you cried again. Sophia gave you her powder to touch up your make up for the second time that night. 

The DJ started playing slower songs for the bride and groom to have their dance and moment. After two songs, the DJ encouraged everyone to join them and dance.

Mason got up from his chair, you assumed he would go to the bar with Chilly, but instead he held out his hand for you. You were confused as to what he wanted to do. 

“Dance?” he asked, slightly smiling. You smiled back at him, grabbed his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. 

Once you reached the dance floor, he grabbed you by the waist with both hands and you placed both your arms around his shoulder, hiding your face on the crook of his neck. 

Your heart was beating really fast. Should you apologize again or should you let the romantic moment carry on?

“You know I never gave much thought to marriage until I met you?” Mason said, making you look at his brown eyes. 

“Really?” you asked.

“Mhm, I never ever met a girl that made me think “I would want to marry her one day.” 

“So…you want to marry me?” you asked, gently rubbing his neck with your hands. 

“I do, do you?” he asked.

“Of course I do.” you said, whispering it. 

“I always wanted to get married Mase, but I was never with like my dream man.” you said again. 

“Oh so I’m your dream man?” Mason asked, smiling to himself and making you giggle. 

“Yes Mason Mount, you are the man of my dreams.” you said giggling. 

You both stared into each other with a lot of love. 

“You know I love YOU right? No one else, no one else comes close.” you spoke up, resting your forehead on his. 

“And I love you…” he kissed you lovingly. You could hear the soft music playing and the outside noise but in that moment it was you and him. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, I really am. I didn’t know how to-” 

“Shh, stop. I know you are sorry and I know it was that dickhead that wanted to provoke me.” he said, making you laugh. 

“He can be very annoying.” “Pff, he’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I met him for like 5 seconds.” Both you and Mason laughed at his comment. 

You both kept dancing to the song the DJ kept playing, in the same position.

—- 

 Your feet started to hurt, so you decided to go outside and get a bit of rest and fresh air. You sat down near a balcony with the amazing view of the city. 

Mason had given you his jacket since your dress was not made for cold nights. You were sitting on his lap, one arm around your waist and the other intertwined with your on top of your thigh.

“You know… I got addicted to you so easily.” he said, making you look at him. He was still staring at the amazing view in front of him. “I care about you more than you think, I think about you all the time and I appreciate you being by my side this summer when things got hard. I know I can be a pain in the ass when I’m moody but you didn’t care.” he said giggling. Everything he had said, no man or boy had ever said to you in your life. You felt tears building up in your eyes. 

“Mase…” you tilted your head to one side looking at him lovingly, and he hugged you. He knew you were overwhelmed by his love, but you would have it any other way. 

“Weddings make you so soppy.” you said after hugging him tightly. 

“Get used to it because at our wedding, God…” he laughed. 

“I love you so much, more than anything.” you said, cupping his face with your hands. 

“I love you baby.” He kissed you and you kissed him back. 

You still couldn't believe you were dating the man of your dreams and you were going to marry him one day. After Joe, you didn't even know if it was possible. But Mason changed your perspective completely.

No word could describe what you two felt for one another.  

[shaadiwish]

Enhance your wedding decor instantly with one simple combination – Sofa & Blooms!

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 3

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Just some fluff before we jump into some more story.

Part 1 Here. Part 7 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

Part 6 Here Part 11 Here

The atmosphere in Vault 33 was buzzing. It’s not every day the Vault gets to throw a wedding celebration, let alone one for the Overseerer’s daughter. The wedding date was still a few days away, but there were still so many preparations to complete, and everyone had their part to play. Food was to be catered, decorations were to be made, and wedding gifts for the newlyweds were to be collected. The wedding committee had their hands full, organizing a successful event to unite two lives and the communities of two vaults. Even with the added workload and stress of pulling an event like this together, you couldn’t deny the positive impact the upcoming nuptials had on everyone in Vault 33. Weddings do that. All types of love are in the air whenever there’s a wedding. Not just the romantic love of the bride and the groom but also the outpouring of love from the friends, family, and community surrounding those getting married. And it’s contagious. Even Norm was wearing a rare smile these days, and while, yes, part of the reason for that smile related to his sister’s wedding day, he had another reason to be happy. 

His second chance performance review was canceled; thank you, Lucy!

Well, that and the fact that he and (Y/N) were back on speaking terms. Over the last week, the two met up for the occasional lunch break or an evening walk through the corridors of Vault 33, attempting to catch up on the elements of friendship during their years apart. 

Conversations started with informing the other of what they’d been up to over their time apart, though they were unsurprisingly short since they still lived quarantined together in the same four walls. She was already aware of his series of demotions, and he was already poking fun at her decision to join the Vault 33 book club. Norm was surprised at how quickly any lingering awkwardness dissipated, and they fell into a routine. It was as though no time had passed when it came to their friendship; they picked up right where they left off.

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

Norm was running late. He hurried down the systems corridor toward the main atrium. The light reflecting down the corridor walls from the Vault’s telesonic projector indicated he was close. Soon, he’d be greeted with the simulated sights and sounds of the Nebraskan countryside along the Vault walls. Entering the atrium, he squinted, adjusting to the artificial sunlight, and panned the room, looking for a familiar face. He didn’t see you in the main square, but he had a good idea of another place to look. 

He followed the main square, then hung a left along the rows of corn stalks and towards one of the back walls of the Vault atrium. There you were, sitting on the ground cross-legged among the corn stalks, book in hand. Norm approached slowly, trying not to startle you, and joined you on the ground, avoiding the dirt piles as best he could. 

“You know there are perfectly good tables back there, right?” 

“Well aware,” you state, not fully acknowledging his presence yet. You pull yourself from the book, close your eyes, and raise your head towards the fake sun, basking it in. “But there’s something about finding a spot on the ground—almost enough to make you think you’re outside.”

Norm copies your movement, closing his eyes and trying to feel any sensation on his skin. He vaguely remembers feeling the warmth from the simulated sun on his skin—a moment from childhood. The memory itself is fuzzy, lacking details, but the sensation—it felt so real. It’s incredible how well your brain can manipulate your senses, tricking you into believing you experienced the real deal. He’s sure that’s what he’s recalling. His brain’s simulated response to what the sun should feel like. He opens his eyes, slightly disappointed. 

Not wanting to dwell on his disappointment, he changes the subject, “What are you reading?” 

You open your eyes and pass him the novel; it’s your favorite classic. “I’m circling back through the classics' currently.” 

Norm takes the book as you hand it to him and raises an eyebrow at you. “What do you mean circling back through?”

You blush, the wave of embarrassment rising, coloring your cheeks. “Well…I’ve kind of, sort of  read through all the books available in the Vault’s library.”

“You're sick,” he chuckles. “How on Earth is that even possible? There's no way you’re human.” 

You snatch the copy of your favorite novel back from him, trying to hide how red you’ve gotten. “It’s not like we’ve got much else going on down here. Plenty of time on our hands.” 

Now it’s your turn to change the subject. “Lucy, getting excited for the big day?” 

“That’s an understatement. It’s almost exclusively been the only topic of conversation in the MacLean household for weeks. Dad’s been discussing remodeling her room once she moves out to make space for his pre-war Western movie memorabilia.”

“What is it about dads and those Western movies? Mine had that obsession, too. He couldn’t get enough of that one cowboy actor. What was his name?”

“Howard.” 

“Yes, him and power armor models. I swear it's a collective special interest that bonds to their DNA when you have a kid.”

“Yeah, I think mine was like that pre Lucy and I. I’m just excited to move on to something, ANYTHING else.” As he finishes, his smile gives him away. You can see he’s genuinely happy for his older sister. 

“I’m impressed with anyone willing to marry someone they’ve never met; I’d be too afraid to risk it. That’s too much commitment sight-unseen.” 

“We’re probably not the best subjects for that type of experiment. You barely like anyone.” 

“I don’t mind you.” 

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm on your Pip-Boy sounds. 

“Shit, I’m going to be late to book club.” 

“I seriously can’t believe you joined a book club. A bunch of pretentious assholes in a room trying to come up with hot takes on hundred-year-old books to one-up each other. Just skip it. No one will notice if you miss one night.” 

“I can’t really skip when I’m hosting.” 

“Hosting book club? Now I seriously don’t know who you are.” Norm jokes. “How does Ms. Anti-Social get roped into hosting a social gathering?” 

You shrug, beginning to stand. “When you host, you get to pick the book, and what could be more fun than picking the most ambiguous novel I could think of for a group that needs the correct interpretation?” 

Norm mouths “Evil” back at you as you head off to your meeting. 

You couldn't wait to give him the play-by-play tomorrow.

[15-lizards]

As the fandom’s resident fashion historian, do you have any thoughts about wedding dresses/apparel in Planetos? Personally, I weddings are a great place to showcase the differences between the regions especially with traditions, superstitions, economy, and skills. For example, IRL there is a superstition, if a bride makes her dress, each stitch a bride makes is the equivalent to the tears she will shed during the marriage but I can’t see that translating to Westeros where the small folk or even every member of house Frey or house Reed aren’t getting a custom dress. Maybe it’s traditional to wear colorful dresses in Dorne and heavy jewelry made by talented blacksmiths in Westerlands and trading cities use dresses with pearls (because in Meereen pearls=fertility) and myrrish lace to flaunt wealth but the North cause practically and reusability over fashion and maybe they pass down dresses, the Reach probably produces cotton so I imagine they would have more stylish and intricate designs, Qohor might have headwear with religious figures hanging from the fringe... I’ve thought about it a bit but I’d love to know your thoughts! 💚💛🖤💚💛

This will also include the other wedding asks I got and will probably be a two parter since there’s a lot to cover!

Wedding fashions part 1!

I’ve mentioned it before, but I like the idea of a Dornish bride “wearing” her dowry. Usually this consists of a veil made out of coins, or stitched into her gown, or placed into her headpiece. The fabric of the gown itself is also the finest the family can afford, and is expected to be sold if necessary (though noble families don’t usually do that). This practice isn’t only a tradition to show the groom’s family that he is not being swindled out of the agreed upon bride price, but is also a way for the family of the bride to show off their wealth. If a girl is especially wealthy, she may not even be able to wear the entire dowry, so her maids, ladies in waiting, animals, and every other thing she is bringing with her is decorated in wealth as well and presented to the groom

Stormlands women tend to be both proud and practical, so their dresses are made from the best materials they can afford, but practically cut and layered for the constant rainy weather. They’re also sacklike and large with very few adjustments so that the fabric can be repurposed later on. Most new gowns look like this anyway for the same reason, and wedding gowns are usually new. A woman’s dress will usually be in her family colors, and be patterned with their symbols as well, or maybe quartered with the grooms symbols and colors. If it’s not repurposed for other things, a gown might be reworn many times for social events, and even refashioned into a more stylish silhouette.

In the Riverlands, there’s no one type of wedding gown, as it’s so large and many of the brides will just wear one of their nicer gowns they already own, but the typical long flowing sleeves and loose overdress are common. Flower, vine, leaf, and other nature motifs are incredibly popular due to their connection to the fertility of the riverlands. So many girls will take a dress with a pattern, or embroider flowers onto it, or maybe pin real flowers onto their gowns, if they cannot afford to embroider or have a patterned gown. There’s a superstition that a bride with not enough flowers will not have any children, only have sickly/weak children. So the small folk especially incorporate as many flowers they can into their weddings

The Reach women’s favorite wedding tradition is seeing who can have the most expensive dress of the season. They’re even more ostentatious than their regular fashion, if that’s even possible. The puffed and slashed sleeves are made from the finest tulle and softest silk. Bodices trimmed in Myrish lace, patterned skirts that took months to make. Gold jewelry and hairpieces imported from the westerlands. Heavy wedding cloaks that are more pearls and thick embroidery than actual fabric. The cost of the yards of fabric used to make the gown is enough to make a Pentoshi merchant swoon. Essentially reach wedding gowns are just upping the ante of their regular dresses.

The wedding gowns of the westerlands are a bit less openly ostentatious than those of the reach, if only because someone doesn’t want to embarrass themselves in front of Tywin or Tywin-adjacent lords, who think to be too showy is a sign that you’re trying too hard. However the overdresses are still made of detailed brocade, necklines are decorated with pearls, and the lower sleeves are still big enough to drag. They still clearly rival the reach, but are also clearly having far less fun with their clothes. It might be a tradition for a woman to start wearing a type of hood on her wedding day, as a way to honor the mother and start promoting herself as lady of a noble house instead of an unwed girl

[janahanooo]

[Vacation gone... right?] Season 1 ep 4

Sorry that I have been gone for a while. I'm trying to make a masterlist, it has been okay... but we'll see

Yuu: uhhh... this is weird.

Leona: nah, it's an almost everyday thing

Yuu:

Vil: that you get weirdly decorated post cards? It looks like a toddler made them.

Malleus: quite... special

Leona: shut up, they are from that little demon

Yuu: you mean Cheka? So you do love him

Leona: I didn't say that.

Leona: he's just my nephew. Nothing special.

Yuu: uhu..sure

Yuu: anyways, what do you guys think about visiting Sunset Savannah? I miss Cheka and Kifaji.

Malleus: great idea my dear

Vil: sounds refreshing

Leona: nooo....

Leona: damn it.

Yuu: this is nice, I missed this

Vil: it's odly pleasant

Malleus: now, Kingscolar, could you give us a tour? Schoenheit and I haven't been here.

Leona: ...hey Herbiviour, didn't you say you want to see Cheka and Kifaji? Lets go meet them, we can leave these two here.

Vil: rude much.

Falena: if it isn't my little brother! And look at that! You brought guests too!

Malleus: Greetings, King of the Sunset Savannah

Vil: a pleasure to meet you, your highness

Yuu: hi Falena!

Falena: Yuu!! Oh how I missed my sweet in-law! Cheka has also missed you dearly!

Malleus: in-

Vil: -law?

Falena: yes, of course. Yuu has recived my blessing on their relatinship with my brother.

Yuu: uuhhh, this is new?

Leona: oh right. I was suppose to tell you that. Sorry.

Yuu: really?

Vil: I feel betrayed

Malleus: I was not fast enough it seems

Falena: ?

Falena: oh! No, no. I gave my blessing for four people you see.

Yuu: oh, cool. So that means we can get married?

Malleus, Vil, Leona: ...

Yuu: just kid-

Falena: I mean, I did prepaire a wedding venue just in case, if you guys decided to get married here.

Yuu: oh

[rcksmith]

Last night of the world — Five Hargreeves

You can find the 3 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2, anonymous 3.

Resume: Luther's wedding was an ironic joke for Five Hargreeves, especially with the apocalypse knocking at the door. But, that night, when Five looked at you and his breath escaped his lungs, he understood his brother. Beause he would marry you too on the last night of the world if he could.

Fluff prompts:

5. ”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

11. “Wow- you look…amazing.” 

15. “Because i love you god damnit!”

16. “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass..” “I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

20. “How am i supposed to spoil you when you wont accept my gifts?”

40. “Come cuddle.”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.

Warnings: just swearing, little angst, mention of death, VERY FLUFF.

Word count:3k.

A/N: Spoiler from season 3.

Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile 3 orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. 

We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️

———

He can remember to this day. The taste of heaven on the top of his tongue, his heart suddenly racing into an uncontrollable rhythm, the sensation of an icy shiver coursing through his body and igniting a hot flame deep in his chest. It was like seeing the muse of a Renaissance painting: exciting, destabilizing. And all your splendor made the soul of Five Hargreeves want to kneel for you in eternal devotion.

You were breathtaking. And even after years, he can still remember that moment.

Five is not a man who is easily impressed, nor is he snatched by any woman. He is firm, rational and practical. But meeting you… in all your glory as a God-decorated angel, made him want to admit the existence of the divine and drown himself in your religion.

It only took a few months for Hargreeves to realize that the earth's rotation only made sense when you were by his side, directing smiles towards him that made he feel like he was in the heart of the sun, that awakened the will to…be good. At least the best possible, for you. To have the illusion that he could deserve you.

Maybe if Five Hargreeves tried to be a better man when he was by your side, he could fool the gods, life or fate, that he deserved you. And so no one would take you away from him. Maybe.

The relationship of you two was something inevitable, unstoppable, Five held you like it was a miracle and didn't dare let go anymore. You were one of those once-in-a-lifetime things, and he wasn't going to risk losing you. But, lucky for Five, you loved him just as much as Phyllis loved Demophon.

There was an unspoken promise surrounding the love of the two of you, the unshakable conviction that you would remain side by side, until the end of the world.

"You are so lost in thought." Your voice snapped Five out of his reverie, bringing him back to reality.

A reality many years later. Where the end of the world knocked at the door, once again. Where his dysfunctional family was trapped in that strange and confusing reality. A reality where, in the midst of impending death, Luther was getting married.

When did time go by so fast?

It was at that moment that the blue eyes with ocean hues were in your direction, and just like so many years ago, Five lost his breath, his reason and his understanding of the world. The red silk clung to every curve of your body like an embrace of perfection, your skin was glistening under the lights of the hotel's ballroom, leaving you looking like a fantasy too good to have come true.

Holy fuck.

“Wow-’’  His voice got stuck on the way from brain to mouth, too perplexed how someone like you could be real. “You look…amazing.” 

The sincerity in his voice, charged with a tremor and veneration, made the hairs on your arms stand on end and your heart race like horses in a race. How, after so many years, could he still look at you as if you were the most beautiful deity among the Greek gods? There was a pure love deep in his eyes that always made your soul tremble.

"You look wonderful too." You flashed a big smile, running your hand down his arm. “I love you in a suit.”

Five made a mocking sound, like a half laugh, as he looked away for a second before turning his attention to you.

"You always say that."

"Because it's true"

Your body came close to his without hesitation, being greeted by Five's warm arm around your waist. His touch became firmer as he pulled you a little closer, as if, unconsciously, he firming up territory.

“What were you thinking?” He looked at you in an inquisitive way “When I arrived. What were you thinking?”

"In you." His answer came as firm as his grip, and your heart leapt in chest. “More specifically the first time I saw you.”

There was something about the way Five Hargreeves looked at you. Something mysterious, passionate, hot as the fire of sin and sweet as the gates of paradise. Something that made you feel like you were living a true love story. Emotions curled at the top of your throat, and you knew you would cry if you uttered a single syllable. So you just laid your head on his shoulder, snuggling into the person who was the reason you were still breathing.

“What are the plans for tonight?” Your voice came out when you were sure you wouldn't cry, looking back into his eyes.

“My only plan for tonight is to get fucked up beyond all recognition” Then his mouth got closer to your ear and became wicked when said "And fuck you so fucking hard that I'm going to break the bed"

Hot shivers licked up your spine to the back of your neck, heat in your belly rose to your eyes, and you smiled broadly, full of sinful expectation.

Five's promises were never in vain.

”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” he said.

Your cheeks flushed and you smiled even wider, the blood pulsing hard in your veins, following the same rhythm as your passionate heart.

Hargreeves bit his teeth as he tightened his grip on your waist. “You teasing little thing.”

You laughed loud, letting him lead you to one of the tables and you said softly  “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass...” 

“I heard that!” 

“You were supposed to!”

----

No one knew - or cared - what time it was, the height of dawn was always perfect for rampant alcohol and dubious behavior. Nights were made for choices that weren't made during the day.

At that moment, forever was in that ballroom, with drunk people and loud music. The colored lights pulsed like a car engine, contributing alcohol to cloud and inhibit the rationality of everyone in the room.

The world was ending and each one there found a different poetic meaning for the situation.

Luther found his in his wife, Klaus clung to his father's plans and lived that night not as the last, but as the beginning of something, just like Ben. Viktor found his in the peace that existed in the idea of - finally - putting an end to that drama of apocalypses, which followed him from timeline to timeline.

For Five Hargreeves, his poetic meaning was you.

His eyes were heavy and his mind light, but he would have to be completely blind for not recognize that, whenever he looked in your direction, you were the most breathtaking girl of the universe.

Would he stop venerate you as a goddess? No.

He stood there for a few seconds, next to someone he didn't care who it was, his eyes completely mesmerized on you. Like you was the most dangerous siren at sea, and he was just a sailor totally at your mercy.

Your body, trapped in that fucking maddening red silk gown, was covered in a fine mist of sweat that lit your skin like pirate treasure. Your hair was unruly and coming out of hairstyle, but the strands that fell under the lap of your breasts took his breath away. It should be considered a cardinal sin the way your body was moving, and Five would have dropped to his knees for you if he could spend eternity there, watching you dance.

“I don't think I've ever seen you look like that.” It sounded like Klaus' voice, but Five didn't want to take his eyes off you to check it out.

“I don't have any expression on my face.” He said the first thing that came to his mind, even though he didn't believe his own words.

How could anyone keep a complacent expression when you looked like that? So miraculous that Five questioned his sanity. There was something about you that kept him wrapped around your finger, so fervently in love, whipped with just one look you gave him. Your image was like a renaissance miracle, a glimpse novelists had of paradise.

God sure was a woman…because there was no explanation for you being so divinely beautiful.

“she’s just…wow”

Klaus must have said something, but Five didn't deign to pay attention, his concentration too focused on the way your body moved, the sway of your hips that moved his ocean. Your every move was a tsunami on his sea, every twirl was a rotation on his Earth, you were shaking Five's entire existence and didn't even notice.

You may have fallen in love with him first, but he fell in love hardest.

That's when your eyes met his, in a fatal connection that made Five's soul tingle. Your smile was the second shot at his sanity, and at that moment, at a stupid wedding, Hargreeves wondered why the hell he never made an event like this be a moment of the two of you?

Why did he never ask you to marry him?

And in that second, watching you dance with Viktor, he found no reason not to.

Fuck it.

With each step Five took toward you, charged with purpose, the more the sense of certainty inside him grew, like a thunderous sound.

“I'm going to have to steal the most beautiful woman of the night.'' Five told his brother, who tried to hide his laughter at his drunken, uninhibited state.

A delicious flush crept up your cheeks, coloring your skin to a shy tinge that made Five want to run his tongue at the maddening color.

“All yours” Viktor was still trying not to laugh as he handed you to his night-black-haired brother.

“Come cuddle.” Five's drunk voice teased you as he pulled you as close to him as he could.

“You know that the most beautiful woman of the night is a bride, don't you?” it was your first speech as you settled youself with his warm, masculine, possessive hand on the small of your back.

“Not for me.” His voice brushed your jaw, lowering to your neck as if Five were inhaling the scent of your soul. “Never for me.”

Five was drunk, you knew that, he smelled like expensive whisky and masculine cologne, but there was something about his sincerity abounding in his drunkenness that made your heart pound. Hargreeves could be very good at hiding his feelings on a day-to-day basis, but that fell apart when alcohol drowned out his demons.

Was that what he thought whenever he looked at you? That you were the most beautiful woman, in every single night? Did he look at you with that oblique glow and in his mind he secretly venerate you?

You've never wanted a positive response so much in your life, because that's exactly how you feel about him. Your heart has long had the name 'Five Hargreeves' tattooed in red-hot iron, and the wish you've asked the shooting stars is that yours would also be tattooed on Five's heart too.

it wasn't too much to ask...

“I love the way you smell.” You buried your nose in his neck, letting the male body rock you completely, just not touching you with both hands because he held a bottle of whisky in his left.

Five let out a sound that could be described as disbelieving laughter. "i've been drinking for hours."

“But I can still smell your real scent.” You joked, reaching up to the back of his head whit your hands.

Hargreeves rummaged his shoulders, in a way to draw your attention to his face, pulling your eyes from your favorite hiding place. When you did, there were so many emotions pouring out of the blue Egyptian eyes that made your soul shivered.

“What do I smell like?” A question so innocent, pure, almost childish, but one that was able to quicken your pulse as quickly as a wildfire.

There was no hesitation in your voice as you replied: “Home.”

A hot feeling licked Five from head to toe, shaking his structures and revoking all the foundations of his life. It should be a crime for you to say such things. It should be a crime for you to be so beautiful that it physically hurt. It should be a crime to be that passionate for you. So, whit his chest sinking with overwhelming emotions and feelings, Hargreeves made the only coherent decision: he kissed you.

Kissed you because his ribcage would explode if he didn't. Kissed you because every cell in his body screamed that no longer belonged to him, but to you.

Mine, mine, mine. That's what Five thought as drowned the sins on your heavenly lips.

“I want to marry you.” His voice was still swallowed by your lips, because he refused to pull away.

"But..." one more kiss ''we already...'' one more kiss ''we're married.''

"No." the firmness in his voice shook your heart  “I want a stupid wedding like this stupid event. I want to hear the idiotic speeches of my father and my siblings, and say that I want this hell to end when in fact I'm reveling in the fact that everyone is gathered just to see my wife. Because i love you god damnit! '' his statement left no space for a answer, because Five swallowed your breath with another incendiary kiss “I want to see you in white, and recite silly vows when in fact my love for you is much more than these ready-made words. I want to give you my last name, keep you by my side as the only Mrs. Hargreeves… I want… why the fuck have I never asked you to marry me before?!”

Five couldn't tell if you were crying or smiling, but he was relieved by the tight way you were holding him. Of course it wasn't the best of statements, he was never good with sentimental shit, but something in the way you looked at him shocked said he said something very right.

“I should propose to you in a better way.” His speech was cut off by a hiccup from the alcohol. “fucking hell…'' his gaze wandered slowly across the room and stopped at the stage, where Ben and Klaus were singing some horrible bullshit ''I already know…'' his drunk mind went back to you again ''I'll sing for you.''

Your laughter overcame the tears, and the automatic question left your mouth. “Why,babe?’’

"Because I want to make a decent proposal, give you something more worth telling people about later."

You were going to say a thousand things, but Five cut you off by the look in your eyes "How am I supposed to spoil you when you wont accept my gifts?”

Five Hargreeves didn't give you a chance to argue, didn't give you a second to recover from a breathtaking statement, and you felt like crying in anger at yourself when he was already away from you, on his way to the stage. You wanted to say that you loved him from the first second, that you worshiped him more than the Greeks worship Zeus. You didn't need a proposal, a big wedding, a official celebration, you always knew you were his wife. And you wanted him to know that too, wanted him to understand that, nothing he wasn't ready to do, you would push him to do. His reserved and sour nature wasn't a problem and you were always completely happy with what you had. Because that meant having Five on your side.

You've never considered yourself a big fan of such public displays of affection, you've always found proposal in open spaces and with people around cheesy, but...but the way Five smiled at you on that stage, microphone in hand and bottle of alcohol in another, it made you question all your tastes in life. That scene was worth it

The truth was, Five would hang the moon in the sky for you, and you'd do anything to keep that love and happiness in his eyes whenever he looked your way.

[moodymisty]

“Honestly, I imagine that Traitor Primarch is Lorgar. But there's caveats I'll touch on when I get there”

I would like to add onto that and say that the biggest caveat to dating Lorgar is probably that you’ll be interacting with Kor Phaeron. You’ve written about that in some of your Lorgar fics, and I just know that despite Lorgar telling him to not talk about it (or especially, mention it around you) he would haaaaate the reader so much.

It’s almost like he’s linking up to a warp hivemind of every toxic mother/father-in-law that has ever existed. He can’t be mean to you directly, because Lorgar will find out. He can’t kill you, because Lorgar would definitely know that he did it. So he has to just sit there and watch as his son falls even deeper in love with someone who adores him and genuinely cares for him, while he’s left to sulk in the background (As he should).

Perhaps Lorgar decides to take you on a low-risk diplomatic mission of some kind. And perhaps he suggests that you should be present while he speaks to the leaders of that planet. He gives you the finest of clothing to wear, which turns out, matches his own! Except his is a bit more intricate, you surmise it’s because he’s got to be the center of attention. The cuffs of his sleeves are decorated with beadwork, golden bracelets and necklaces adorn his form, rolls of scripture hang off the side of his belt. But the thing you’re most entranced by is the beautiful veil he’s decided to wear, the fabric’s wonderful colour that’s complimented by the intricate embroidery woven into it, the embroidered script glittering in the light like stars in the night sky. You can’t parse out what it means though, so you conclude it must have some sort of religious significance.

You don’t know what it means. But you know who does? Phaeron. And he’s far more acquainted with Colchisian traditions than you are. So when his son not only arrives to a diplomatic mission with you in tow, but also wearing clothing with writing that very famously symbolises future engagement and marriage?! Ohhhh he’s beyond pissed. He’s going to have a long talk (shouting match) with Lorgar after this, wherein Lorgar will make the very solid argument that he is an adult and can choose to do whatever he wants with his life, even if that involves marrying someone that his father doesn’t approve of. (Kor Phaeron is now planning on wearing white to your wedding)

It may be a sci-fi romance to you. But to Kor Phaeron it’s a sci-fi tragedy. And to the astartes that bear witness to this situation it’s a comedy that’s been running for multiple seasons. “Hey everyone! Check out how grandpa punched a hole in the wall after being told that he can’t talk shit about our father’s spouse!”

Oh hey, you hit the button inside my mind that said LORGAR THOUGHTS DON'T TOUCH, so now I get to go apeshit.

Sorry in advance :3

Everything in this is GN!Reader apart from one use of the word 'temptress'

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I feel like given Kor Phaeron and how much he tried (and honestly succeeded) to mold Lorgar into the perfect vessel for his own ambitions, he would not take Lorgar having another voice in his ear sitting down.

At first he might 'entertain' the idea because he thinks that Lorgar will eventually grow bored and you'll get thrown to the wayside- that's he's just experimenting with the frivolity that is love and he'll get over it. But when he doesn't, when he listens to you more and more, perhaps he starts even venting to you, walking through what he needs to do next, and you're given the opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in his mind (you're just being nice and comforting him, but with Kor Phareon's mind being warped by his own delusions he cannot see something as simple as selflessness) he's not going to stand for that.

Kor Phaeron is one of those 'i will use my son as a puppet to be ruler', types as he instilled Lorgar with a god complex, but he also knows that there would be a massive riot from Colchis if he ever took over. So he rules from the background, and he won't let anyone, especially someone who's becoming the figurative apple of Lorgar's eye get in the way.

Meanwhile throughout all of Kor Phaeron's internal meltdowns and scheming, Lorgar is thriving. This guy is absolutely head of heels in love, and can't spend more than a waking moment apart from you. It's not fading either, as over time you rise higher and higher in rank, closer to Lorgar, and while you may not have any official place or title, people have begun uttering the word consort.

While he has been very vocal to anyone who can listen and the Astartes underneath him, any time he tries to instill doubts they largely don't stick. Whispers of Temptress spread largely from Kor Phaeron's most steadfast loyalists, but not enough to take a significant root that he can garden.

Throughout all of this as you've implied Kor Phaeron will not shut up about this, and will constantly try to 'right' Lorgar. Get him to abandon these insane ideas. If he want's someone to just keep his bed warm then that's Lorgar's personal business, but things like marriage? The stunt he pulled on that planet? Bringing you to a diplomatic meeting, drowning you in gifts? He's going to pop a neural link during the screaming match that inevitably ensues.

But I think that most of the Word Bearers would be pretty on board with Lorgar's significant other. I think that they have faith in their sovereign picking someone who is 'worthy' of him. And it's been established that the Word Bearer Astartes interact with baseline humans a decent bit, so it's not as if they're one of the more pompous of the chapters. I mean they are, they're Astartes, but in comparison to other chapters.

So most ill will isn't necessarily coming from them. They're pleasant to be around, and you enjoy them. They seem to feel the same, at least on a surface level. (So they'll for sure defend you or your name from grandpa Kor Phaeron's absolutely unhinged schemes)

There will definitely be some who are displeased however, particularly ones close to Kor Phaeron. So perhaps you should be careful.

-- Anyways, here's a drabble. No warnings apart from Kor Phaeron being a turbodouche. Apologies I only reread this once during a communications class.

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The entire Fidelitas Lex can feel it.

The tension.

Lorgar Aurelian is on the bridge watching Colchis come closer as they dock, and Kor Phaeron stands not far away. He watches as well, and both of them sport the same neutral expression that poorly veils their true emotions underneath.

They are both furious, overwhelmingly hot faced, but don't say a single word. To each other nor anyone around them. The air between them, that Primarch aura emanating unfettered rage barely held in check, has even the servitors swaying their paths to give them a good breadth of space.

Lorgar turns to leave, and return to the fortress he calls his home. Kor Phaeron follows behind roughly ten minutes later, the only noise he makes being the whirs of his armor and a sharp cough.

Lorgar arrives at his personal writing room first, looking out the window. He knows what's coming, he can hear the footsteps; The ones that sound different from the Astartes, about seven minutes after he arrived here. He had seven minutes of time alone.

The door opens, and closes with a sharp slam. Lorgar turns his head just enough to look over his shoulder at his pater, of whom is pursing his lips and trying to find the right words. He always chooses his words carefully, particularly when speaking to his surrogate son. His mercurial nature has never changed, and part of him wonders if it was instilled in him from his creation.

"You..."

He doesn't stammer, but stops to take a breath and keep his hands firmly to his sides instead of erupting into a fury of words and insults. As much as he might desire to.

I do not know where I could've gone wrong with you-" Lorgar can think of more than a few ways. Kor Phaeron raises his shoulders with a sharp intake of breath and continues.

"But that, stunt, was inane. You bring shame to the entire L-" Lorgar interrupts him and throws his hand as if trying to brush away his words.

"You do not dare tell me I bring shame to my own Legion. I have done nothing but what I thought was right."

Kor Phaeron sharply exhales through his nose. Even since Lorgar fell in love- at least he assumes that's what Lorgar thinks this is- he's been uncontrollable. Before he could offer his advice, his guidance to help him steer his legion, his Gospel, but now he acts as if he's just that lost young boy again.

"No; You did want you wanted. If you want to toy with mortals, very well. But do not embarrass us all."

He seems to be conveniently ignoring that your good will and pleasant attitude had been very helpful in speeding along a negotiation of planetary relinquishment that had previously been at risk of falling apart at the seams. Lorgar may have a bit of a silver tongue, but he is a Primarch, and when speaking to baseline humans, sometimes another is what's needed. Then again, he can't remember a time when his pater has ever said your name, so he supposes he can't be surprised.

He remembers how perfect you'd looked, dressed in the gifts he'd given you looking like a art piece given life. When you'd smiled at him, it was like you'd set his heart ablaze. He wishes to do nothing more than to show you off to anyone who lives.

He's already doing so, and if all goes to plan, you'll be with him on his next return to Terra. It will be your first time on the jewel of the galaxy, and he's nothing but eager to show you things that only he can. Not even Kor Phaeron will stop him from marrying you, if that is what he wishes to do.

Standing fully upright Lorgar stands up to his surrogate father, not intent on being trampled like a child.

"I will do what I want in this regard. This is something I will not take your advice in."

He leaves no room for argument, and Kor Phaeron knows that if he pushes it, he'll risk tearing some of the trust he's built up. If he lets it go, he can return with another strategy at another time.

Perhaps he can go about this some other way. He won't rule out removing you from the situation if Lorgar continues to insist on tailing you like a street dog.

Lorgar knows that his father isn't done with this either, but Kor Phaeron simply gathers himself and leaves the room, passing guards in his wake.