#half up down wedding hairstyles

[mazzy-rockstar]

I’m this 🤏🏻 close to having a breakdown and cutting of all my hair

[eternalsams]

Till Death Do Us Apart ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

content/warnings: 18+, bit of fluff and honeymoon phase, violence, angst, blood, drug use, guns, knives, swearing, allusions to sexual assault, death, murder, reader is said having longish hair

summary: Your wedding day was supposed to be the best day of your entire life, until it wasn't.

words count: 6.0k

notes: English isn't my first language so please take that into your consideration. Inspired by the movie Ready Or Not, but I've still changed a lot in the plot.

masterlist

The music was blasting from the speakers as Jake drove through town, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the back of your neck, messing up a bit your hairstyle. If he'd dared doing that an hour ago, maybe you would've asked for divorce before you even said I do. But now that he was wearing the matching band on his ring finger, your hair was the last thing on your mind. Your husband turned to look at you and smiled lovingly before pulling on a single pin, letting half of your hair fall down. His hand sneaked at the top of your head and he blindly searched for the second one in your thick mass of hair. He finally found it and pulled on it before throwing both pins on the backseat, somewhere you would take hours to find them to give them back to your hairdresser. Your hair was now flying behind you as the wind hit the convertible 1950 Cadillac your father let you borrow for your honeymoon.

Jake wanted to surprise you by not telling you where he was taking you. He only told you the most important thing was to bring your favorite sundress and his favorite lingerie set. He was still dressed in his whites and you in your long dress, the white clothes contrasting with the black body of the car. You still packed some comfy clothes in a duffle bag for you and your new husband. Your left hand left your lap and you caught sight of the sparkle of your engagement ring. You smiled widely and started playing with the short hair on Jake's neck. "You hungry, baby?" He asked, slowing the car and taking a turn. "I'm starving!" You exclaimed and he chuckled. You both agreed on getting married and then immediately going on honeymoon. Less expensive and more alone time. So you hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. He parked the car on the parking lot of a fast food and turned down the engine before pecking your lips. "I grab your usual and we eat under the stars?" He asked, slipping a lock of hair behind your ear. "Whatever you want, handsome." You smiled at him and kissed him. He groaned against your lips and grabbed the back of your head to deepen the kiss. His tongue gently parted your lips before you granted him access. His wife. You were his wife. Finally. He pulled away reluctantly and kissed your cheek before getting out of the car and grabbing his wallet in his bag.

You waved at him when he turned to you before getting in the restaurant and you sank in your seat, your whole body on fire. "Newly weds?" A voice made you jump. You straightened up and turned to the voice, noticing a woman, probably in her fifties, standing not so far from you, smiling kindly at you. You glanced back at the restaurant, seeing Jake, in his beautiful dress whites, ordering your food. You smiled lovingly and turned to the woman. "Yeah, we're on our way for our honeymoon." You bit your bottom lip in excitement, something the woman noticed as she chuckled. "Dinner break, I get it. My husband and I used to travel a lot when we were your age. Enjoy it while it lasts." She winked at you and you laughed softly, fiddling with your rings. "I'm not planning on doing anything else." You simply said, turning back to the restaurant to check on Jake.

Jake thanked the waiter and grabbed the bag full of warm food. The smell only could make him salivate and he couldn't wait to sit under the starry sky with his wife. When he got out, he noticed how the sky turned orange as the sun finally started to set at the horizon. He walked to the car with a silly smile on his lips before frowning when he didn't see you in your seat. He got closer and noticed your stuff still on the backseat. He put down the food and grabbed his phone, dialing your number but he quickly heard your ringtone and found your phone in your bag. "Baby?" He asked loudly, looking around him. His heart started beating faster but he couldn't let panic overthrow him. He cleared his throat and walked back to the restaurant. "Excuse me, have you seen a woman in a wedding dress? White." He asked the first waiter he found. The young woman looked around her and shook her head, seeming sorry for him. He thanked her anyway and went to ask someone else. When he realized nobody must have seen you, he walked to the bathroom and stopped just before opening the door with the little lady pictogram. He sighed and pushed it open and calling your name, but still nothing. An elder woman looked at him weirdly and he gently grabbed her arm. "Have you seen a young woman in a white dress?" He asked once more, panic starting to show in his voice. The graying lady shook her head and left the bathroom. Jake quickly left the restaurant and joined the car once again, looking for any trace of you.

He heard faint footsteps behind him and before he could turn and ask the person if they had seen you, a damp tissue was smashed over his mouth and nose. He immediately grabbed the arm around him and pulled on it but when he inhaled, he started to feel himself weaken. His grip on the arm loosened and he winced when he felt something puncturing the skin of his neck. A sensation of burn followed in his veins and he felt like his entire body caught fire. He fell on his knees and a second pair of arms caught him under his armpits. The tissue over his nose then disappeared and he could finally breathe fresh air, but it was too late for him to fight it. He felt his eyelids shut down and his blood flow burning his temples.

When he finally woke up, he could hear the cracking of fire and the muffled sound of voices. He had a hard time opening his eyes and his neck hurt him really bad. When he wanted to bring up a hand to soothe the pain, he couldn't. His hands were tied down behind his back and that was when he finally opened his eyes completely, trying to recognize his surroundings. "Finally!" An older woman crouched down in front of him. "I thought you'd never wake up. Excuse my husband, dear. He can be really gruff sometimes." Her hand went to gently stroke Jake's cheek but he jerked his head the other way, groaning lowly. "Where is my wife, you bastards?" He grumbled, pulling on his restraints. "Don't worry, she's here. Somewhere in this house." The woman simply said as she stood up. "What have you done to her? Where is she?!" He shouted at her, startling her slightly. "Don't raise your voice at me, young man! I could've killed that poor girl if I wanted to. I'm sure you wouldn't like to be widowed on your wedding day." Jake bit his tongue to stop the insults begging to be uttered. "What do you want from us? Money? I'll give you money. Just don't hurt her." He almost pleaded, pulling once again on his restraints, but nothing to do, they just didn't break. "You really think we want money? Look around you." Jake did as told and noticed the expensive furniture. Hell, even the wallpapers looked expensive. He looked back at the woman who simply shrugged with a little smile on her lips. "See? We don't need your money. We just want to have fun. So you're going to listen to me very carefully if you want to find your precious little wife."

She crouched back down and pulled a gun from behind her back, Jake's eyes widened and his breath got caught in his throat. "I'm gonna open those cuffs but you're not gonna go anywhere until I'm out of this room. You're gonna hear music on the speakers..." She explained as she pointed at the said speakers in the corner of the room before she aimed the barrel of the gun at his face. "And when the music stops, and only then, you can leave the room and start looking for your wife. Understood?" Jake only nodded at that, and the only thing in his mind at the moment was finding you and leaving this place as soon as possible. "Good boy." She patted his cheek and slipped her gun in her back pocket before grabbing keys on the bed next to them. She leaned over him and he could feel her disgustingly hot breath on his neck. When he finally heard the click of the restraints, he immediately pulled his hands in front of him to rub his wrists. The woman anticipated his movements and in a single motion, grabbed and aimed her gun at him, making sure he wouldn't try anything stupid. He only glared at her as she stood up and walked back to the door, her gun still pointed at him. "Remember, you stay here until the music stops." She reminded him and left the room, closing the door behind her. As she did so, some classical music started playing in the speakers and he stood up and started looking around the room for something to defend himself and then defend you. After a couple of minutes, the music stopped and he looked up at the speakers, making sure he was not hallucinating. He rushed to the door, opened it and ran out of the room, looking around the hallway as he called your name.

Ten Minutes Before

When you opened your eyes, all you could feel was a terrible headache as the light hit your retinas. You looked down at your lap when you felt resistance at your wrists and saw the rope tied around them. You started to panic and stood up, looking around you to find something to cut open the restraints. You heard the door behind you open and turned around, now facing a man. "Who are you? Where am I? Where's Jake?" You asked quickly, stepping back and away from him. "So many questions. You have to excuse my wife, I don't think she introduced us correctly. Let's just start all over again, shall we? Hi, darling. You've met my dear love Daphne earlier in the parking lot. And I'm August, the one who knocked you out." He softly smiled and you could feel your throat tighten at his words. You reached at the back of your head and winced when you felt the light wound. You started panicking completely when you felt and saw blood on your fingertips. It wasn't much or enough for you to have a concussion but you couldn't stop the panic from creeping up your throat. "Where's Jake? What have you done to him? Please let us go!" You could feel tears start to well up under your eyes and the man stepped closer, trying to soothe you. "Hey, hey, hey... Calm down, everything is okay. Your husband is okay, he's here too." He said with a calm voice. "Jake's here?" You could hear the tremble in your voice, trying not to think about what those lunatics must have done to your husband.

"What do you want from us?" You asked, taking another step back. "We just wanna play." He smiled and then explained to you what was gonna happen. He would release you from the rope and let you find Jake after the music stopped playing on the speakers. "What happens next?" You asked again as he held a knife pointing at you. "What do you mean 'what happens next'? You're free, of course!" He laughed and grabbed your wrists before cutting the rope. "That's not it, it can't be." You muttered, staring at the knife pointed at you. "Well, you can stay here with us if you don't wanna play." He shrugged and walked back to the door. "Have fun, darling!" He said before closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in the room as classical music started playing on the speakers. You tried to calm yourself and think about what could be the trap. When you heard the music stop, you rushed out of the room and ran in the hallways, holding the skirt of your dress not to trip over it. Lucky for you, you changed your heels for more comfortable shoes after the wedding. You tried to be as quiet as possible, feeling like you were some sort of prey in this enormous house. You pushed open a door and chuckled in relief when you recognized a kitchen. You pulled open all the drawers and finally found kitchen knives. You grabbed the largest one and noticed a phone. You rushed to it and dialed 911 but the moment you held the handset to your ear, only white noise was coming out of it. You cursed and pulled on the phone, discovering that the cable was cut. You grabbed your knife and ran out of the room before anyone could catch you. You were about to walk down the stairs when you heard men voices. "She was so pretty in this dress, it's like she dressed up just for us. I can't wait to find her." You smashed your hand over your mouth in shock and stepped back, getting away from the voices. That was certainly not August's voice, that man sounded way younger. Which meant he was more faster than the older man. When you heard a door open, you ran out of there and rushed up the stairs to find Jake.

Jake couldn't remember another time when he was sweating that much. His heart was beating loud and fast in his chest it hurt and his hands were shaking, opening every door he passed to find you. He was calling your name loudly until he heard someone. He ran up to the noise and found a young man who was surprised to see him. "Hey, have you seen a young woman in a white dress? I'm looking for her, she's...she's my wife." He said, breathless. The man nodded and smiled at him. "Yeah I've seen her, she was running that way." He pointed in a direction and Jake could feel his heart beating faster, hope flooding his veins. "I can come with you if you want, we'd cover more field." He patted Jake's shoulder and the blonde had a strange feeling but decided to quiet it down for now. They stayed silent the entire time, quietly looking for you, Jake a little bit more panicked than the other man. Both men stopped in their tracks when they heard a noise coming from behind a closed door they just passed. They exchanged a look and the stranger quietly stepped closer to the door and turned the handle. Jake could hear his heartbeat in his ears and as the other man opened the door quickly, he could feel in his guts you weren't there. But someone was and that someone jumped out of the room, aiming a shotgun at him and shooting.

Luckily for him, he had the time to duck and he skedaddled out of there. He could hear steps following him and most importantly, gun shots. As he was about to take a turn, another gunshot echoed in the hallways and he cried out in pain when the bullet touched him in the upper arm. He immediately put his hand on the wound to slow down the bleeding. He kept running until he couldn't hear the voices anymore and he hid in a broom closet. He looked down at his arm and swore under his breath when he saw all the blood. He carefully removed his, not so white anymore, jacket before taking off his belt and using it as a wither. He gritted his teeth when he felt a bit more blood running down his arm and hoped those bastards haven't found you yet. He slowly opened the closet door and peaked outside. Nothing. He grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around his wounded arm not to let blood drops on the floor behind him. "Come on, baby. Where are you..?" He whispered, more to himself. He started walking along the hallways when he heard your voice. No. Your scream. He shouted your name and started running in the direction of your voice. He didn't care if those men with the guns found him again, he needed to make sure you were fine. He just couldn't lose you, and certainly not like that.

You were squirming in the man's arms, screaming and calling for help. Calling for Jake to come and save you. The bottom of your dress got caught in a small metallic hook on the furniture and ripped it. That was when you heard the rip that the events of the day all turned back in your mind and you felt tears running down your cheeks. That was supposed to be the most beautiful day of your life, not the worst. You were supposed to laugh and smile, not cry and shiver in terror. Bloody hell, your newly husband was supposed to be the one making you scream and ripping your dress off you. "Let me go, please! Let me go! Jake! Jake, help!" You screamed and tried to hit the man holding you and pulling you into a dark room. "He's not there, sweetheart. He left without you, baby." The man chuckled before laying you down on a bed and pinning your hands down. "Don't call me that." You spat on him and he let go of your wrists to wipe his face. You immediately got up and as you ran to the door, the man grabbed you by the waist. "Stop running away, beautiful. It would be a waste not to get a taste." You could feel his face nuzzling in your neck and inhaling your perfume before lowly groaning. "You smell even better than I thought. Now, come on, I wanna have my fun before my parents get their hands on you." He threw you back on the bed and before he could do anything, the door slammed opened. You only had a glimpse of white clothes before the man that caught you was pinned to the ground. "Jake!" You recognized him and stood up, catching his arm before he could sink down the knife he was holding into the man's chest. He probably found the knife you dropped when that lunatic caught you. "Come on, Jake, let's go. I wanna leave this place." You begged and Jake turned to you before slamming his fist into the man's face, knocking him out. "Let's go." He said, keeping the knife and taking your hand in his. You both left the room quietly and quickly found an empty room. You didn't turn the lights on not to be noticed and when you were sure you were safe for now, you threw yourself into his arms.

He let you cry and buried his face into your hair. When he pulled away, he was frowning and he noticed the blood in your hair. "What did they do to you?" He grumbled, inspecting you from head to toes. "Nothing more than that, I promise." You took his hand and noticed the home-made wither he had on his upper arm. "What happened?" You immediately asked, taking his face in your hands. "They have shotguns." He simply said before he turned to the door, hearing the men's voices. He pulled you behind the desk in the room and you both sat down, staying as silent as possible. When you were sure they were gone, you sighed heavily and closed your eyes, keeping Jake's hands in yours. "I'm sorry, baby..." He whispered, looking at you. "Don't you dare apologize, Seresin. It's not your fault." You opened your eyes and frowned. "Understood, Seresin." He smiled, loving how he could now call you by his name. You stayed silent for a few minutes, only staring into each other's eyes and appreciating the moment before the nightmare would start again. "How do we get out of here?" You asked him. "I have an idea, but it could get dirty." He grimaced before he continued. "But first, we need to get more comfortable. I'm not sure people designed wedding clothes to be practical during attempted murder." He rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. "If by practical you mean hot, you're on the good way." You tried to joke around and he chuckled. "I'm glad you found me." You added, looking at him deep in the eyes. "Till death do us apart, remember? I really hope you do because you promised those vows not even 12 hours ago." He joked back before grabbing the fabric of your ripped dress. He thought for a second before quietly apologizing and ripping entirely the skirt, making it shorter. "I promise I'll buy you a new one and we'll burn this one." He said before kissing you softly. You couldn't even remember when was the last time you kissed him, but it sure felt like years ago. He pulled away, slightly making you whine of the loss of him. "Come on, we need to move."

He made sure to never let go of your hand as you moved through the hallways silently. You were terribly amazed by the number of rooms in this house, every time you would open a door, it led to a new one. Every single time. It was like it would never end and you would never find the exit. When you found yourselves in the umpteenth room, Jake turned to you. "I think they might have an armory." He kept looking around, making sure nobody was following you. "You think?" You thought about it and he nodded. "We could use their own weapons against them, what do you think?" He asked you, still not letting go of your hand and resting his other hand on your shoulder. "I don't care what happens to those fuckers, I want to get out of here and go to our honeymoon." He softly smiled down at you and kissed your forehead. "I want that too. Are you ready for what's gonna happen? For what we'll have to do?" He asked you one last time and you nodded. "Are you?" You asked him back. "For you? I'm ready to kill whoever's on my way." He then pulled you into his arms and murmured sweet and loving words. "I love you. So much." You said, your forehead now resting on his. "I love you too, baby." You smiled at the nickname, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. "Let's go kill those sons of bitches." You pulled away from him and he chuckled at your words.

You managed to avoid Daphne, August and their two sons for as long as you could until you finally found the said armory. "Oh my fucking God, they're truly insane." Jake whispered as you both looked around the room at all the guns hooked on the walls. "Come on, we need to be prepared for whatever they have against us." You hurried to find a good gun with enough refill to shoot down all of them. Multiple times. Jake opted for a rifle and grabbed the bandoleer for it. With all the noise you made getting prepared, you didn't hear the voice getting closer until you saw the door opening behind Jake. "Jake, get down!" You shouted and one of the two sons aimed his gun at you but you shot first. A loud thud was heard and Jake stood back up, staring at the body next to him and the three holes in his chest. He then turned to you, your gun still in your hands and almost fuming like in those old Western movies. "Holy shit, baby." Jake sighed, getting closer to you and lowering the gun. "He's dead?" You asked, your voice getting weak and trembling. "You saved my life. You saved me." He grabbed your face, making you focus on him and not the bleeding corpse behind him. "I saved you." You repeated. "Good girl." He smiled and pecked your lips. "We gotta move, they must've heard the shots." He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room, stepping past the -still hot- body on the floor. Just as he said, you weren't gone for two minutes before you heard Daphne's voice from the armory, crying the death of her son. "Come on, let's go." Jake whispered to you and pulling you with him.

As you were running to find an exit, you benefited of that time to reload your gun, making sure you'd always have enough bullets. You only let go of Jake's hand for a minute but it was already too long because now you were being dragged back, a hand over your mouth and a knife against your throat. You still let escape a gasp and caught Jake's attention. He turned to you and aimed his rifle to the man holding you captive. "Let her go." He groaned, pulling on the lever safety. "You shouldn't do that." The man said and you recognized the second son. You gulped and grimaced when you felt the glade pressing against your skin. "Lower that gun and I won't hurt her." The brother said but Jake didn't move an inch, staying fully focused on his target. The man holding you lowered his hand holding your face to place it around your middle and pressed you against his body. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, dropping your gun on the floor and trying to get his hand off your body. But when you first tried to rip it off you, the knife he was holding pressed deeper into your throat, cutting your skin and making you whine in pain. Jake's grip on his shotgun weakened as he watched with terror the drops of blood running down your neck and disappearing into your dress. The man then took advantage of this and threw his knife at Jake's shoulder where the blade sank. Your husband dropped his weapon and screamed in pain as you screamed in horror. You could do nothing but watch the blood stain the white shirt of your newly husband as the man dragged you away from Jake. You cried for him, watched him drop to his knees as strength started leaving him. But he still found the strength to look at you until you disappeared from his sight.

You squirmed in the man's arms, begging him to let you go, to let you check on your husband. But he didn't let go. He dragged you into a room where you could see Daphne's red and teary eyes and August's enraged ones. The son threw your body against the table and you cried out in pain as the corner hit your ribs. August grabbed your wrists and pulled you on the table as his son maintained your ankles still. Daphne then appeared in your field of view and pointed a knife at you, making you stop squirming almost immediately. "You killed my son. We were nothing but kind to you and your husband but you had to kill my baby." She groaned the last words like a rabid animal. "You tried to kill us!" You shouted and she got the knife closer to your chest. "It's part of the game." She said as if it was obvious fact before she continued. "You were supposed to find your husband and leave. Or, we'd find you and play with you. You weren't supposed to use our weapons against us." She then lowered the knife to your stomach and the blade started ripping the fabric of your dress. You then felt hands rubbing up and down your legs. "Can I please have my fun with her first?" The son asked, looking at you like a piece of fresh meat. His hands then reached your thighs as he pushed up the dirtied skirt of your wedding dress. You only heard August grumble something and the young man's hands fell back to your ankles, but not without rubbing small circles on your skin. You felt like you would throw up. You turned to look at the window for a second and noticed how dark it was outside. You didn't know how long you had been there but it felt like months to you. That was nothing like the idea you had of your wedding night. You really didn't expect being pinned down a table and tortured then killed as your husband was bleeding to death in the hallway.

Daphne then lowered the knife to your thigh and slowly sank it into your skin, making you scream in pain. The fabric of your dress rubbing against the extra-sensitive flesh making you see dark spots as you felt your head spin. She then ripped the knife out, making you whine. You just couldn't find the strength to do anything more, your whole body was begging for mercy, aching in a way you never thought possible. But the worst was the pain in your heart, the sole thought of Jake made it bleed painfully. And just before you could feel yourself fall into unconsciousness, you heard the door slam open and two gun shots. The weight on your ankles disappeared and you could finally move your feet. Your wrists were next to be released just before hearing three other gun shots. You then heard Daphne scream and she dropped her knife next to your body. You slowly opened your eyes and thought you were in heaven when you saw Jake in the room, pointing the gun you dropped earlier at the woman. "You okay, baby?" He still asked you, never looking away from Daphne. You mumbled something he couldn't understand and stood closer to you, grabbing the knife and handing it to you so you could protect yourself if something happened. You regained your senses and when you secured the knife in your hand, you looked up at Daphne who got tears running down her face, glancing at her husband and at her son. You sat up on the table, feeling more blood coming out of your wounds and winced. Jake quickly glanced at you to make sure you were fine and wrapped the arm that was not holding the gun around your waist to support your body against his. You carefully grabbed the gun and aimed quickly at Daphne, shooting three more bullets into his head. She dropped dead on the floor, a puddle of blood forming under her as the last nerves in her body made her shiver. "Let's get out of here." You sighed, dropping the gun in the puddle at your feet.

Jake kneeled before ripping another piece of your dress and wrapping it around your stab wound on your thigh. You gritted your teeth at the pain but said nothing as Jake stood back up. You wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes, savoring this moment of peace, even in the middle of a real massacre. "How's your shoulder?" You asked softly. "I managed to stop the bleeding. It's not that bad." He said, wrapping his wounded arm around your shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and led you out of the room. "We need to find a phone to call the police and tell them everything. They'll understand why we did it." Jake said as you staggered through the hallways. "No. The phones are dead. And I'm pretty sure we're not close to any police station." You managed to mutter, trying not to put all your weight down on Jake's bleeding shoulder. You heard Jake curse under his breath and felt him straighten up as an idea came up in his mind. "We're gonna burn down this place. It'll alert the surroundings pretty quickly and help is gonna come for us." He said as he readjusted his grip on you. Your leg hurt like hell but you were sure his shoulder did the same to him. Your husband opened a door and you almost nervously laughed when you saw the fireplace and the huge curtains not so far. You exchanged a look with him and he softly made you sit down a chair before ripping a part of the curtains so it could easily reach the fire. "Check the counter, there might be some alcohol." You said, pointing at the furniture next to you. Jake nodded and opened every door, taking out every whiskey, every liquor he could find. He gave you two opened bottle as he held two others. "Till death do us apart, my love." He tenderly smiled at you before he poured the alcohol all over the furniture. You did the same and stopped in your tracks when you caught a glimpse of yourself in a mirror. Your dress was ripped and stained, most of it was by your own blood but you knew some of it wasn't. You didn't look like a bride anymore, you looked more like a monster straight out of one of those children's tales. "Jake, can I have your jacket please?" You turned to look at your husband who was still pouring alcohol all around the room. He unwrapped it from around his arm and you could see the wither he made with his belt. He gave it to you and went back to what he was doing. You started removing your sleeves and delicately detached the blood-wet dress off you. Jake glanced at you and frowned. "What are you doing?" He asked, getting closer to you. "I'm gonna burn this dress." You simply answered, stepping out of it and putting on the white jacket Jake gave you. You held the -not so white- dress in your hands before letting it fall to the ground. When you saw Jake pouring the liquid on the curtains, you quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room when the fire reached the fabric and started spreading around the room.

You ran as quickly as possible to find an exit and when you finally found it, Jake broke it down with his unharmed shoulder. You could hear the first explosions behind you as you rushed down the stairs of the porch. Jake wrapped his arms around you to keep you warm since you were only wearing your honeymoon lingerie and his jacket. You sat down in the grass in front of the house catching fire, Jake sat behind you and holding you between his legs and his arms. You could feel the heat radiating from the residence. It was almost comforting to know those bastards were rotting in this house. Weirdly enough, your wounds didn't hurt as much as before now that you knew you and Jake were safe. You leaned back and rested your head on his valid shoulder before closing your eyes. "Don't fall asleep." Jake muttered before kissing your temple. "I won't. I promise." You said as you listened to the cracking of the fire. You then heard the birds singing and you wondered what time it actually was. Jake even started humming your favorite song to soothe you and you buried your nose into his neck, inhaling the rest of cologne he had. You could also hear some small explosions and some part of the house break down but nothing startled you, after the night you just had, you weren't sure anything could scare you anymore. Not even twenty minutes later, you could hear the sirens of the fire trucks and Jake gently stroked your arms. "Baby, the help is here. It's over." He then kissed the top of your head and you smiled, keeping your eyes closed. The nightmare was finally over.

Tag list: @birdy-bat-writes @ratticus-spaghettius @captainmoonknight @princess76179 @shakespeareanwannabe @jakeseresinlover @hangmandruigandmav @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @sarahsmi13s @hookslove1592 @mamachasesmayhem @buckysteveloki-me @hisredheadedgoddess28 @kmc1989 @countryandsweetbabygirl @carnationworld @books4ever03 @blue-aconite @entertainmentgal8

[valiart]

Behold, little baby fanfiction. I've never written one before, but the whole Sulemio fandom and the Sulemio week got me a bit inspired at the final hour. I don't have Ao3, so here it goes:

The Wedding We Didn't Get

(3500 words, Wedding Prompt/Free Day)

The sun rose over the craggy walls of the Caloris Basin on Mercury. Suletta held her thumb up to the burning orb, failing to eclipse it by a factor of three. All her life, she’d help up a fist to cover the star, but on Earth and the more distant planets, people just held up a thumb. Non-Mercurians always imagined the sun to be monstrously huge when seen from Mercury, as though it devoured the whole horizon. The idea seemed rude to Suletta. They made the sun out to be some kind of monster, boiling her planet alive.

Suletta had never looked at the sun that way. She loved the way it broke into rainbows across visors and windows. She watched, through the glassy walls of the most refrigerated place on Mercury, as the morning light sublimated nighttime rime into puffs of steam. She’d never been in a place to watch the sun for more than a few minutes; the suits couldn’t handle much more than that. But those few minutes in the light of the full sun were beautiful, the literal definition of radiant.

The only thing that could ever surpass the sun stood before her right now.

***

Miorine had wanted to wear a suit. She’d always dreaded the idea of her own wedding; after all, she’d expected to despise her spouse, if not directly rival them. Her father had apparently intended for the competition to protect her, to give her the strongest possible partner, but one that wasn’t her choice. He’d never trusted her to make the right decision. He’d always thought someone else should lead in her stead.

So dreaming of being married in a suit always made her feel strong, powerful. She wore the pants. She had the power, chauvinistic as it was. Her spouse was lucky to be marrying her, and not the other way around.

Then Suletta had said “I always imagined seeing us in our dresses.”

The last thing Miorine had expected from her spouse was love. Much less love at first sight. Much less the stupid insipid head-over-heels heart pounding, sweaty-palmed, short-of-breath bullshit wrought by the mere sight of her volcanic victor, her red-earth lover, her insanely perfect wife. How someone so sweet could have come from a desolate rock such as this completely escaped Miorine. The very idea that joy could come from these blasted plains and half-melted crags was absurd.

And yet the proof stood before her, resplendent in a puffy green dress decked out with live roses and tomatoes. Suletta’s hair was sewn into the same shapes, an intricate hairstyle she’d said was popular in Roman times. Suletta wobbled a little bit on her crutches; even with the support rigging built into the dress, the fruit was heavy and cumbersome. With its flared frills and borderline Victorian volume, it was the kind of dress Miorine would never have been caught dead in.

“Your garden was how I fell in love with you, Miss Miorine,” Suletta said. Had said, but still did. “I want everyone to know that side of you.”

Idiot. Miorine thought, as her face turned bright red and tears welled in her eyes, threatening her tastefully winged eyeliner and immaculately porcelain blush. Stupid asshole idiot. I hate you. I hate you so much. I wish I could punch you. I wish I could tear those crutches away and throw you into orbit.

Suletta held up her thumb to the sun, then back down to Miorine, eliciting chuckles from the small audience. The dome was only big enough for twenty people; any larger and the amount of refrigeration necessary to keep it livable would have been prohibitively expensive. Unreasonable when the rest of the colony needed every watt they could scrape together.

Earth House et-al sat stage right, with only Sabine to break up the mix, a surprise plus-one from Nika. No matter. The old rivalries were moot now. Everyone wanted the same thing: peace. And Miorine was going to see it delivered.

She’d never thought she’d come this far. When she’d gone out in her suit on that fateful day, she’d half expected to simply float into deep space and die. That possibility hadn’t scared her. She’d welcomed it.

And then this dumbass came into her life, and suddenly living became the only thing Miorine cared about. So long as she lived with Suletta. So long as she could listen to that embarrassed stammer, see that pitiful blush, feel those calloused hands. So long as she could see that saccharine smile, Miorine could go any distance, hurdle any obstacle.

So when Suletta said she wanted dresses. Suletta got dresses. Even after Suletta described hers. Miorine had wanted to die. Instead, she’d simply said: “Do whatever you want.”

Miorine wore white lace, gauzy across the chest. Body-tight, so Suletta could not imagine anything but her. Simple lines, with faint silver threads drawing the vines of the garden they’d made together. Subtle enough that only a careful viewer would notice the design, but obvious enough that Suletta would understand. She wore crystal heels and simple pearl earrings. She’d cut her mullet, and kept the bob. Simple, professional, herself. Her outfit may as well have been in the dictionary as a visual definition of class.

She felt so fake next to Suletta.

She felt so hopeful as she took her place beside her.

She shivered when Suletta took her hands.

“Enough flirting, you two. You’re making this embarrassing.” Guel said, with false authority. When they’d asked him to officiate, his first question had been “Why me?” Then he’d shaken his head. It was, after all, better not to know that Suletta just felt bad for all the trouble she’d caused him. In a way, no one had suffered more than him from Suletta’s arrival at Asticassia. It seemed only fair.

“Do your job.” Miorine hissed. She tapped his phone, where the entire ceremony was laid out in plain text. She hadn’t trusted him to remember it all. No matter how much Suletta had changed her, Miorine still had trouble letting go of control.

Guel coughed into his hand. He began reading the nondenominational, interplanetarily legal text Miorine had picked out. A simple declaration that they would share assets, interests, and fulfill each other’s obligations in the eyes of the law—whichever law that happened to be at the time, corporate or Spacer or Earthian. Simple, unemotional, with nothing for anyone to pick at that might show favor to one belief system or government.

“The groom has chosen to write her own vows.” Guel said, with relief. His part was effectively done. Though he routinely gave speeches himself, being at the centre of an actually emotional scene clearly went above his capacities.

“As the champion of Asticassia’s dueling tournament, Suletta Mercury has earned the right to recite her vows first.”

***

Suletta stared down at her notes. The tablet, and therefore the words, trembled in her grip. She really thought she’d be braver than this. She’d killed people, for goodness’ sake. To protect Miss Miorine, of course, but that didn’t change the facts. She was someone with blood on her hands. She should be able to handle getting married.

She looked to her mother, silent and still in her wheelchair. Mr. Rembran sat next to her, equally still, but from stoicism rather than paralysis. She had dressed her mother in a simple blue dress, easy to take off and on, comfortable and soft. A red-white-and-blue striped blanket kept her warm. She couldn’t speak, even with computer aid. Eri said her brain refused to make the connections. She wasn’t brain-dead, but she wasn’t far from it. Still, there seemed to be light in her eyes that hadn’t been there the day before. As ruthless as her mother was, she’d always acted out of love. She cared. No matter how present or gone she might be, she was here, today, watching her daughter get married.

“The first time I saw you,” Suletta began, her voice wavering, “I thought you were trying to kill yourself. You were so angry with me for saving you. Then you stole Aerial, and tried to fight Guel yourself. I thought you had a death wish. Then I got engaged to you! I thought I was coming to school to make friends, not get married. I thought you were terrifying. I still do. But when I saw how messy your room was-“

“Hey!” Miorine scowled and blushed. Laughter broke out.

“A-and how beautiful your garden was,” Suletta said quickly, scrolling past the paragraphs where she described Miorine’s mess in intricate detail, down to a particular stain that had taken three long weeks to remove even with industrial solvents. “I quickly learned how caring you were, how much love was in your heart. It takes a lot of love to raise plants. It seems so simple on Earth, but here we have to make the soil from the ground up. We have to purify the water. We have to make the air, and import fertilizer at great expense. Asticassia is not too different from Mercury in that way. And the tomatoes you grew were the most delicious I have ever had. You were callous and distant, and beautiful.”

Suletta’s hands shook. One of her crutches slipped loose. Even with Mercury’s low gravity, holding herself up with one arm was borderline impossible. She tipped forward.

Miorine darted forwards and caught both the crutch and her. She very carefully placed the crutch back under Suletta’s armpit, and propped Suletta back up. She rearranged the tomatoes that had been dislodged in her brief fall, and stood back, eyes closed. She took a small breath, and waited.

Suletta stared at Miorine, lost in her grace.

“Keep talking.” Miorine said, with perfect calm.

“Ah! Um, I… I’ll always remember the way you pushed me up against the window and told me you needed me. When you said to email you three times a day, I thought you were still mad at me, because I would have messaged you more. I want to share every moment with you. I want to tell you about the little bug I saw, or the nice thing someone said, or just share a photo of the sunlight on the rocks. I want to be with you every day, to protect you, to help you, to turn your forever frowns forever upside-down.

“I promise that even though I’ll never pilot a mobile suit again, I’ll always fight for you. I’ll always stand by your side, even if I can’t stand. I’ll never betray the trust you’ve given me. And I swear to get better at cooking so you can stop ordering food all the time. Most importantly, I promise to make you happy. I want to see you wake up with a smile, to put you to bed with a kiss. I want to see our babies. I want to see how beautifully you age. I want to know you, so completely that I can’t separate you from myself. I promise that these wants will never change. I promise to be the best partner there can be.”

Miorine stood like a statue now, still as marble and just as white. As the sun shone down on her, it seemed that she did not reflect its burning light, but radiated on her own with a cool brilliance of greater magnitude than any star.

“As best I can, that is…” Suletta said, looking down from Miorine’s placid expression.

Guel bit his lip and tried not to cry. He failed. Voice choking, he said: “How you can you just stand there like that?”

“That’s not your line,” Miorine said, quietly.

Guel swallowed his pride and wiped his tears. “The bride has also chosen to write her own vows,” he said. “Miorine Rembran, please recite your vows.”

***

Miorine sucked in a breath. She couldn’t lose her composure now. She had to be strong. She had to be perfect. She was the youngest President in history. She could not fail, for even her wedding was a public, political act. No matter how human she wanted to be for Suletta, she had to be a public figure first.

She told herself all this to no avail.

“I…” she carefully opened her eyes and looked down so the sight of Suletta wouldn’t overwhelm her. She had her speech memorized. All 100 words. Simple, curt, effective.

Suletta. You are a powerful, strong person. I respect you completely. I trust you. You are more than a fighter, you are a friend, and you are the correct fiancée for me. I solemnly vow to support your efforts to advance education across the system, and to support those who have no one else. I promise to listen to you, to believe you, and to consult you. I am grateful for the opportunity to call myself your wife. It is difficult for me to say this in front of so many people, but I love you. I always will.

Tears plopped onto the tiled floor. Fat and heavy, and soon joined by more.

“I hate you!” Miorine cried. “How am I supposed to follow that, huh? How am I supposed to match you?”

Earth House howled with laughter. Even her father cracked a small smile.

Miorine sobbed, staring into those innocent blue eyes, quivering above the stupidest fucking smirk Miorine had ever seen, so small and serene and sure, as though this shame were cute, and fuck, it must be to her.

“How can I possibly stand next to you when you are everything in this universe. You are bravery. You are valor. You are my knight in shining armor, even when you’re not wearing anything at all.”

Suletta gasped.

“See! I can make you flustered too. So don’t think you get a monopoly.”

“Mioooo…” Suletta whined.

“Everything you do drives me completely insane,” Miorine said. “The way you know exactly what I want before I know it. The way you follow my instructions to the letter, and better. The way you always stand up for me even when I don’t deserve it. The way you can just pop into a room like a tray of free cookies and make every single person smile. The way you look at me makes me want to rip my face off.

“I love you so intensely that just thinking your name makes my heart pound. You make it so easy to love you. So easy to stand up. You make me want to wake up every day. To take care of myself, so I can take care of you. You may not pilot a mobile suit anymore, you may never be able to walk on your own again, but you are still the most powerful person I know. Nevertheless, I promise to protect you. I promise to carry you when you fall. I promise to hold your hand. To tuck you in. To let you call me Miomio when when Suletta is upsetta. To clean you if you can’t, to feed you if you can’t. To take care of your mother. To take care of whatever family we have. You have done so much for me. I owe you my life.”

She sucked in a breath, deep and shaking.

“I owe you my life,” she repeated, between sobs. “But I’m giving you my heart. So don’t break it!”

Laughter interrupted audible sobs from the small crowd.

“Now rest, my noble warrior.” Miorine said, cradling Suletta’s warm brown cheek in her hand. “Rest, my precious groom. Rest, because I will hold you. I will stand for you. And I will be there with you for everything, until I no longer draw breath.”

“Miorine…” Suletta’s blue eyes shivered beneath an ocean of tears.

Guel coughed, and waved a nearby drone over. The drone was shaped like a giant tomato, and had only one function. Though no one else could know it, Ericht controlled the drone; she couldn’t take much more part in this ceremony than to be a digital flower girl, but that was enough for all of them. They were together, and would be, forever.

“We will now exchange rings.” Guel said, trying hard to maintain his composure. The drone’s top flipped open. Inside lay two small rings. One was a simple platinum band studded with rubies; it had belonged to her mother. Suletta, ever the teacher, wanted to give her something with history.

The other ring was a bright silver mash, not a single piece of metal but a fused conglomerate of shards. Aerial’s pieces, almost microscopic, sifted from the vacuum at great expense. Her researchers had wanted to study the shards. She’d given them what remained after this came together. Love trumped research.

“Miorine! That’s not the ring we picked out for me.” Suletta said with a gasp.

“I know.” Miorine said. “But I think this one suits you better.”

“It’s supposed to be the other way round,” Guel interjected, “But President Rembran, please place the ring on the groom’s finger.”

Miorine wiped the tears from her face and picked up the Aerial ring. She gently slipped it onto Suletta’s finger long, strong fingers. Suletta covered her mouth and shook with sobs.

“Ms. Mercury, please place the ring on the bride’s finger.”

Suletta trembled as she picked up the simple band, and slid it onto Miorine’s thin digit. Miorine could not help but think that Suletta was so strong. So gentle. So effortlessly perfect.

“By the power vested in me by the Sol Compact, I now pronounce you wife and wife. Mrs. Mercury, you may now kiss the bride.”

They stared at him.

“Ah, the original Mrs. Mercury.”

***

Suletta couldn’t move. She could barely see through the veil of tears. She could only vaguely lurch forward with trembling legs and shivering arms and hope that the shimmering white shape in front of her was her wife and not a particularly attractive pole.

Her Mio’s hands found her. One wrapped around her hand, pulling her upright. The other wrapped around her waist, pulling her in. Miorine’s delicate lips brushed against Suletta’s at first, gently sharing a warm breath, a flicker of tongue, so swift and temporary that Suletta couldn’t be sure it happened. Then they were pressed together, breath joining breath, lips against lips, tongues seeking tongues, desperate for each other even in this disturbingly public view, in this tiny glass dome on a boiling rock.

Suletta pushed away, exclaiming with shame: “Mio!”

Then she realized that Miorine’s hand was no longer entwined with hers. Instead, she reached under Suletta’s legs, and swept her off her feet.

“You’re lucky this is Mercury.” Miorine said. “I can’t do this on Earth.”

“Miorine, I’m supposed to-“

“You’re not my groom anymore. You’re my wife. And I choose to carry you.”

As Miorine carried Suletta past their friends, past their family, all standing and clapping, Suletta looked once again to her mother. She expected to see nothing. After all, she was barely present. At her healthiest, she had been stoic and stalwart, cunning and sweet, but never soft.

A single tear travelled down the creases of her face, dripping onto the blanket below. Mr. Rembran took out a small handkerchief and wiped the tear away. He nodded to her.

Suletta nodded back.

“You know,” Miorine said, as the pressure doors sealed behind them, “you’re lucky your legs don’t work right now.”

“Why?” Suletta said, completely confused.

“Because after tonight, you won’t be able to move a muscle.”

[rosemultitargaryen]

Mirror

Warnings: bondage, breeding kink, oral dem receiving, mirror sex.

Pairing: Husband!Dom!Aemond x Wife!Sub!reader. (Fem)

Summary: "watch me as i worship your body with every inch of mine." Aemond decided to show you just how much he appreciates you.

Word count: 101

The people crowded to see the newly weds at the ball. Aemond by your side, you ascend down the stairs with a worried expression. Your fingers grasped the fabric of his clothes in need of some relief from this newfound anxiety.

"Do you truly think i will let harm come your way?" Aemond's voice calms you slowly, his tone is authoritative yet gentle while his facial expressions are relaxed and fond.

"I do not...everyone is just...never mind." Your words struggle against your quivering lips.

Aemond comes to a halt, turning to stand before you with a gentle hand on your left arm. His other hand grasp your chin, lifting your gaze to his eye. The moment is brief before you notice that everyone is awaiting your arrival from the halls. You clear your throat, pushing past your newly made husband. Your hands grasp at your dress, lifting it to allow access for your legs to move more freely. Although you wish for them to take you elsewhere, you manage to make your way down the staircase by yourself.

The celebration ceremony proceeds, everyone coming to personally congratulate you. You begin to feel more self conscious, seeing these lovely young women with thin hourglass bodies. Yes, Aemond stressed to you that your body is the perfect make for him. However, your mind tells a very different tale.

"My love." His voice pulls you from your sickening thoughts, your hand on your stomach as you look up into his eye.

"Yes?" You ask innocently as if you weren't just thinking of ways to get rid of the weight.

"I can see your thoughts taking over you." Aemond pauses, taking a moment to move forward and grasp your face. "Need i give you a physical example of how much i worship your body?" Aemond rhetorically asks.

You swallow thickly. "No...Aemond leave me be." You dismiss his intentions, brushing past him.

A frown forms on his pale face, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting as he watches you walk toward the washroom. Aemond takes note and waits for you outside, leaning up against the door with his hands crossed over his chest. His hair falling perfectly over his shoulders, tied back into his signature half up half down hairstyle. You walk out of the washroom, your face reddened from the tears. You bump into your husband, his frame blocking you from moving as his hands take you waist firmly.

"Aemond..." you mumble and his head tilts.

Aemond guides you to your now shared chambers. His hands grasping your back as he gently pushes you within the walls of the room. You're taken aback by his forceful actions. His head gestures toward the bed, you follow.

If you had learnt anything from your husband, disobedience is not accepted. You sit on the edge of the bed, hands places on your lap as you wait for the next command.

Aemond trails behind you, kneeling, his hands possess something of a leather consistency. You daren't question his actions, feeling the cool leather trickle down your bare arms. He unclips your gown, watching as it deliciously reveals your figure. Aemond stands and removes a cloth, revealing a mirror in front of you both therefore forcing you to look at your self bare.

"Aemond please, i can't stand to look at myself...please." Although you meant to sound stern your words came to be mere whimpers, ashamed of your body.

The leather whip trails down your front as Aemond kneels back behind you. The action elicits a moan from you, your eyes fluttering to a close as he grazes the material over your nipples. Aemond smirks, moving to your front as he kneels before you. His face is level with your entrance, the feeling of his breath against you makes your squirm.

"Behave." Aemond demands, lifting your legs over his shoulders.

His lips graze your clit, your hands flying to his hair for more control. Aemond's tongue presses against your hole, you force your hips forward.

"So eager, perhaps if you want to act like a whore you should join a pleasure house." He smirks.

The obscurity of his words makes something stir in you. Aemond works magic on you, making your head fall back in ecstasy. Slurs and moans fall from your lips like sweet nectar to Aemond's ears. His tongue laps up all you have to offer. As you are about to reach your release he withdraws his head, kissing you with hunger that overpowers his senses.

His body over powers yours, pressing you against the mattress. Your back arches as Aemond presses his erect member against your folds. You give him a look of permission before he plunges in and your eyes screw shut.

"Aemond...I.." you moan and scratch your nails down his bare back.

His thrusts are slow yet hard, knocking you further up the mattress with every thrust. His hair dangles in front of his face and you lean up to kiss his lips, the feeling of warmth fills you as he continues to snap his hips into yours.

"Ao feel raqagon nykeā million qēlossās issa jorrāelagon." Aemond slurs and you whine, feeling your climax reaching.

He continues his forceful thrusts, kissing your collarbone to add to your pleasure. You kiss his chin, beads of sweat forming on you as your breathing quickens.

"Aemond!" Your legs shake violently as his thrusts grow sloppier.

The coil snaps and you milk his cock, panting and whining as he continues to abuse your entrance for his own pleasure. Your head falls back to the pillows as you feel him release within you, pumping you with his cum. Aemond comes to a halt, making sure ever last drop is bestowed in you.

"You will look so beautiful, round with our child." He purrs.

[1989edteach]

i’ve been thinking way too much about ed’s wedding hair and him having a small little braid in a half up half down hairstyle with purple and white little flowers in it all along the back the crown of his head, even a few framing his face

[royal-confessions]

“Princess Madeleine's wedding look was not my favorite but her dress is. Yeah, the sleeves were falling off, but aside from that the dress was so beautiful and romantic. I wish she'd gone with different hairstyle and tiara and veil tho, those ruined the whole look for me. I think the Laurel Leaf tiara on a half up-half down hair would have looked better, or she could have opted out of wearing a tiara and gone for a mantilla veil instead to drive home the romantic feel of the dress.” - Submitted by Anonymous

[greypetrel]

"Shoes are an evil way to oppress people and I won't wear them." cit.

Finally finished with her clothes concepts! (the first plan was doing 6 of them... Oops, I guess)

Aisling's wardrobe/story through clothes. Guess her favourite colour. Some notes under the cut!

Alyra | Raina| Aisling | Radha )

She loves colours. She has a palette she loves best (teal - purple - yellow) and would stick to it. In Haven she just borrowed the plainest, more muted clothes she could find to blend in better with the rest and not stick out so much. Stopped braiding her hair back to hide her tattoos and look less like a fish out of water and take some attention away from herself. She had to be convinced to go back to leg wraps (it's an extra pair of Solas she adapted to her size).

The teal doublet in her Casual Skyhold attire was the one thing she really asked for when Josephine and Leliana cornered her down to choose a wardrobe that was tailored on her. She doesn't really care all that much for clothes, she just... Hinted at Josie her colour palette, the fact that she doesn't like restrictive skirts and hates shoes, and a couple of infos on how the Lavellans dress up to compliment her wardrobe and bring something of home with her.

"And then, everything changed when the Inquisition Nation attacked". I realise afterwards, I would say I'm sorry if I actually were, but I'm not.

Halamshiral: I did two variations, number 1 is more inspired by Orlesian fashion, the silhouette is Orlesian but with a Dalish twist. I like the colours and how it brings to her formal outfit, but meh. Number 2 is the one I got with and what she actually wore. She couldn't be turned down from wearing a more disctinctly Dalish style dress to that ball, she just conceded in wearing shoes underneath (no socks, she slipped off her shoes to explore the palace and silk stockings would just be pointlessly ruined). Number 3 is the more historically accurate version, fully 1643 fashion I drew for the Three Musketeers inspired series. I kept it because I'm affectionate to it.

Wedding: She pulled it out in Lavellan style in maybe half an hour, braided some elfroot for her crown and picked some forget-me-nots from a flower bed. No she's not feeling very well, the Anchor is flaring and she lost weight.

Post-Trespasser in the Fereldan countryside, embracing local hairstyles. New foot thingies Dagna designed to be easier to pull on and off by herself with just one hand. She begrudgingly admitted that skirts are not that impractical. Lots of heavy sweaters because IT COLD. I wanted to paint some tartan so here you go, there's no really any more reason to it.

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

Possible love - Nikolai Lantsov

Masterlist

Part 1

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Word count: 1839

Warning: mentions of crying, mentions of death (Vasily's so is it really a warning?)

Summary: After being married to Vasily for almost half a year, everything crashes at Nikolai's birthday party. Part 2 of Impossible love. Can be read as a standalone too.

The room had been decorated most beautifully. Sun shined in through the windows as the servants worked with setting the tables. You had just walked past, on your way to your chambers to get ready. It was Nikolai’s birthday party and even though he was your greatest heartbreak, you intended to attend. Vasily was going to be there too and he said he wanted his wife beside him. You’d only been married to Vasily for half a year but he still insisted you’d be by his side for every event the crown hosted since your wedding. It was a bit tiresome and you couldn’t say that he was the greatest company since he seemed to leave you alone at all of the events anyway. 

But despite him being bad company and a terrible leader, the two of you had still managed to find some respect for each other. You didn’t know if it was the times he’d found you crying over your marriage, the times you’d screamed at him about being an arrogant little shit, or the one time you even slapped him across the face after he told you something quite nasty. You didn’t know that it was Nikolai who’d pulled his brother aside and threatened to kill him if he hurt a hair on your head, and both Vasily and Nikolai intended to keep it that way. 

Now he was respectful towards you. He didn’t force himself on you like he’d done in the beginning, he didn’t say anything nasty to you or about you, and he didn’t hurt you in any physical way. It was probably very low standards for a marriage but you took what you could get. Sometimes, you’d even consider him kind. There were days where he’d come to your chambers with a breakfast tray and you’d sit in bed and eat together. You barely talked but it was nice anyway. Some days he’d taken you riding around the grounds, and one time he even helped you brush your hair in such a tender way you almost believed it was Nikolai. But it wasn’t and you were stuck with his older brother. 

Pushing the door to your chamber open you stepped inside to the sight of Vasily in only dress pants and an unbuttoned shirt. He snickered when you stepped inside and gave you a smirk. You gave him a simple nod before walking behind the screens to change. 

Nikolai pulled anxiously at his tie and pushed a hand through his blond hair. It seemed like he was always nervous about events nowadays. It was during those hours he couldn’t escape the sight of you on Vasily’s arm and it broke his heart every time he saw you two together. He knew you didn’t love your husband, and he knew that Vasily didn’t love you. But he was fascinated with you, which was why he insisted on staying married to you. That and the alliance it created with your country. You’d argued that that alliance would be just as strong if you married Nikolai, instead of Vasily, but who were you to disobey orders of the king and queen. Nikolai had tried talking his brother out of it too but without success. Now he threw a glance at the clock and let out a deep breath before steering his steps towards the ballroom. 

He got an applause when he entered the room and caught your gaze from across the room when he looked around. You had a gentle smile on your face, Vasily’s arms around your waist and a beautiful, long gown that matched Vasily’s suit tie. Your hair was up in an elegant hairstyle and Nikolai felt his breath get caught in his throat. He sat down with the rest of his family at the table in the front. You were sitting beside him and your perfume had him losing his mind. But the dinner didn’t last for long. Nikolai and Vasily were soon arguing and in the midst of it all, chaos erupted. The Darkling’s nichevo’ya had found you.

Nikolai sprung from his chairs, taking ahold of you in one hand and grabbing the hand of the queen in his other, starting to drag you away from the mess. But you pulled your hand free from his grasp and despite fearing for your life you turned back around to get ahold of Vasily. You pushed through the crowd of panicking people and just as you were to grab ahold of him the nichevo’ya picked him up, burying its talons into his flesh and ripping his arm off. You saw the light fade from his eyes and watched as the shadow monster threw him aside and went for the next victim. That’s when you turned and ran, leaving everything behind you. In a hurry, you gathered your skirts in your hands and set off towards the tunnels underground. 

Nikolai was panicking. You’d pulled away from him and disappeared into the crowd again, and he didn’t have the time to go after you. Now he could only stand in the entrance to the tunnels and push people inside, looking for you and praying to saints he didn’t believe in that you were okay and that you hadn’t gotten the same fate as he’d seen his brother receive. His eyes filled with tears at the thought of losing you but he whipped them away before they even got to fall. The image of you in your beautiful gown was stuck in his mind and now he used that image to look for the color of it in the crowd. 

You could have taken one of the other entrances he thought as the crowd started to thin out and just a few single people came through at a time. But why would you? This entrance was closest. He ushered a man inside and helped one of the healers from the first army down underground. But where were you? He started walking towards the stairs again, contemplating if he should go up stairs again to look for you, but Tamar came running up the stairs before he got any further. 

“I think that’s all of them. No one else is coming through the other entrances,” she told him, one hand resting on one of her axes, just in case. Nikolai gave her a nod but stood still anyway, waiting for you. 

“Is Y/N down there? I lost her in the crowd,” the desperation in his own voice made him wince. Tamar could only shake her head at his question and Nikolai felt the hope drain from his heart. Then hurried steps could be heard in the stone stairs leading down to the tunnels. His gaze snapped up and the relief he felt when he saw you running down the stone stairs was something he’d never felt before. He wrapped an arm around your waist, leading you down to the tunnels, letting Tamar close the entrance behind you. 

He brought you to a small room that you could only assume was his makeshift bed room down here. A big bed stood in the corner, a desk and a chair, and a few candles stood on the big table that took up most of the room. Stacks of rolled up maps and blueprints were messily laid on top of the table and a cold cup of tea rested on the corner of it. None of you said or did anything until you were behind a closed and locked door. When you heard the lock click you threw yourself in Nikolai’s arms, something you hadn’t been able to do since you married Vasily. And it felt like coming home. Everything about him was familiar. From the way that he held you and how he felt pressed against you, to the way he smelled and the gentle strokes he made up and down your back. 

After hugging him for so long that you started to forget what had happened in the first place, you pulled away, whipping tears off your face. Nikolai had tears in his eyes too but he smiled through them, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Vasily’s gone,” you whispered, eyes glossed over, voice broken. Even if you’d never loved him, you’d learned to live with him and you’d never wished for him to die the way he did. Nikolai sighted and nodded gently, “I know, love.”

“I’m so sorry Nikolai. I know you disliked him but he was still your brother,” you gently told him and rested a hand over his heart. You could feel it beating through the material of his suit. He looked down at your hand, placing his own on top of yours. 

“I’m sorry too, Y/N. He was your husband,” Nikolai’s voice was just as careful as yours. The feeling of having you this close again made his feelings for you bubble over and drown him in want for you. But you’d just lost your husband, if he got together with you again so soon it would look bad for both of you. 

“Well, I could never have loved him. Not like I love you.” Nikolai shook his head at your statement, “Don’t say that, it’s too soon. Even if we survived this attack, even if we survive this war. We don’t know if we can.” His heart broke a bit as he uttered the words but you both knew that it was true. But still, you shook your head at him. Everyone knew the sad love story about you and the two princes of Ravka. It wouldn’t matter to anyone other than the two of you if you got a happy ending. 

“I was taken away from you and I had you taken away from me. I let that happen once before and I won’t let it happen again. I won’t be with you because of what everyone else thinks. If I’m not to be with you, it’ll be because you don’t want me. So tell me, Nikolai, tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave,” your voice was honest but so gentle and soft. Nikolai knew that you felt his heart pick up and your beautiful eyes made him fall into an eternity where he only wanted you, only needed you. He closed his eyes, “You know that I want you.” You stood on your toes, brushing your lips against his and it was too much. Nikolai couldn’t not have you anymore. Before you were able to pull away from the barely kiss, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him, pressing his lips against yours, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. For all you knew, there wasn’t. But this time, Nikolai wouldn’t take the risk of not spending his every last living second by your side. When you pulled away you were out of breath. Both your breathes were heavy and you barely heard what Nikolai said.

“I want you. I’ll always want you.”

“Then let me be yours.”

[adz]

Property Brothers

The first Property Brother is born and it’s like a light appearing during the long night of an earth without Property Brothers. His name is Abraham, and from the moment of his birth there are murmurs about who he will partner with, which properties he will purchase and the renovations he will spearhead, and the media appearances that will follow.

Colin is born a year later, and it’s not apparent he even is a Property Brother until his second year of elementary school when he brings the deed to his parents’ home into show-and-tell and flips it for nearly three times the amount they’d paid a decade earlier. Abraham is the one who takes the ball and runs with it, securing new land on which to build a new home. The mother and father are pretty much just along for the ride.

With their fledgling businesses geographically overlapping so severely one might think the two boys would be at odds, but nothing could be further from the truth. Abraham and Colin are thick as thieves and do everything together, feeding and bathing one another and talking in hushed tones long into the night. They apply to business school when Colin is 11 and Abraham is 12, and they both get in, and they do each others' homework, quickly moving up through the ranks until they are teaching the classes while their professors watch in awed silence. When they graduate at the top of their class, perfectly tied with the highest grades ever recorded, they sell the school building and use the money to start their own business.

There was another brother born too, Gus, and he will become relevant later.

The Property Brothers are in their element. Here's how they do things. First, they purchase a property. Then, they visit the property and loudly remark on its positive and negative qualities. A process follows where the positive qualities are enhanced and the negative qualities utterly erased - this part is difficult to understand and not worth describing in detail. Finally, the brothers sell the property and make a hell of a lot of dough. They could use this dough for anything, but they always use it to buy more property. To do otherwise would be contrary to their nature.

Neither Abraham nor Colin has ever gone to a barber, but their identical black hairstyles are an inch and a half long and neatly slicked down. One of them wears a denim shirt and the other wears selvedge denim jeans. At all times, the one wearing the denim shirt wears dark pants, and the one wearing denim jeans wears a light patterned button-down shirt. It is impossible to say which brother is which. They orbit one another like sister stars with identical masses. They still live in their parents' home and sleep together in their childhood bedroom. At one point, they are seen dating beautiful women with white sweaters, and they marry, but soon their wives recede into the background radiation, and it's unclear if they were ever discrete objects to begin with.

Someone offers the Property Brothers a reality show on television, but they turn it down. They have everything they could possibly need. They have never flown on a plane; they drive black Ford Mustangs. They eat oatmeal for breakfast and steak for dinner. They have never gone to a library or movie theater, never been to a funeral or wedding (not even their own), never held a baby, never listened to music. The properties they own accumulate value at an impossible rate, baffling economists. The Property Brothers are ironclad. The gentle, masculine, beatific front they present is not actually a front but completely real and true. They have not said anything demeaning or rude about a person in their entire lives.

On the fifteenth anniversary of the founding of Abraham and Colin's business, Gus comes to visit. He has graduated from college with a degree in sociology. You can tell him apart by his hair, which is slightly curly, and his sneakers, which neither Abraham nor Colin would be caught dead in. Otherwise he is identical and somehow simultaneously the exact same age as the other two.

When Abraham opens the door to their parents' house and sees Gus, he smiles and says "It's great to see you! Let me get my brother." He closes and locks the door and goes into the garage. Colin is in his bedroom on the second story looking down out of the window at Gus.

For the next three years, the brothers have to use the Internet to buy and sell property. They work on their laptops at the living room table while their parents move to and fro. Colin contracts a scout to observe properties and report back to the brothers, and Abraham chooses to buy or sell based on the scout's info. The scout misses important details: the Property Brothers would never buy an ochre house, but they are told it's vermilion. For the first time in their lives, they begin to lose money. Meanwhile, Gus has died of exposure.

During the time the Property Brothers spend indoors, their business goes bankrupt and their names are dragged through the dirt. "Abraham" is known to buy houses with flooded basements, and the name "Colin" becomes synonymous with "house that has a gas leak." Everyone has forgotten that they ever had wives; no one would marry them now. The brothers are ruined.

However, something is about to happen that nobody would expect. It happens on a Sunday morning while their parents are at church. Colin is in the garage cleaning his Mustang with special soap, and Abraham is looking at paintings in the hallway. Suddenly, both brothers smell the familiar scent of their house burning. They run into the living room and see that their laptops have simultaneously ignited and that the blaze has consumed the table, the chairs, the carpet, the wainscoting, the cornices, the pilasters. Abraham and Colin embrace and the house collapses around them, kicking up a large cloud of ash. 

When the dust settles the brothers straighten up, blinking, and walk through the wreckage of the destroyed house, past what used to be the front door and a loose pile of deteriorating human bones. They stand at the end of the driveway and look back at what used to be their refuge and their prison.

A limousine pulls up next to the brothers, and a man wearing a black suit gets out. "What happened here?" he asks.

"Recent renovations to this property have opened up basically infinite opportunities for land utilization," says Colin.

"The area is zoned for residential and you can pick up this lot for a song," says Abraham.

"This is a wonderful neighborhood with lots of walking trails and natural features," says Colin.

When the Property Brothers' parents return home, they see that their home is gone and another home is being built in its place by a new owner. They see that their sons have freed themselves from the pain of knowing themselves, from knowing not-themselves. They hold one another and weep with joy. Residents come out of the neighboring homes with folding tables, grills, and champagne. Everyone here deserves to be here. Everything is arranged in a way that makes sense visually. Jewel and earth tones. Granite and marble. The fingerprints of God lie across everything. These homes are also properties. These people are also brothers.

[hearts-hunger]

four weddings and a funeral — part two

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫

⮡ part one

Series Summary:You and Danny haven’t spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: Seeing him at a funeral was strange enough. Running into him again at a wedding the next day... no, you don't believe in fate. Do you?

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining | Word Count: 4.2k | Chapter Warnings: drinking, one (1) icky coworker

A/N: Two chapters in two days? On my blog? More likely than you think, apparently. This chapter is 99% fluff, I'm not sorry. I hope you like it! ♡

Danny didn’t text you again that night, and you didn’t see a text from him when you woke up the next morning. You reminded yourself that he was busy and he’d done you the courtesy of telling you he would be, but it didn’t stop you from catastrophizing and thinking that his interest in meeting again was all some sort of elaborate joke he was playing on you. You didn’t think he would do that, but then again, what did you really know of him now?

You hadn’t said so, embarrassingly willing to change your plans at a moment's notice, but you had a busy few days ahead of you too. The day after the funeral, one of your coworkers was getting married; the next day, you’d been invited to your cousin’s destination wedding in North Carolina. If you were honest with yourself, you knew you would have skipped both weddings to be with Danny, but you decided to go ahead with your plans until you heard from him. What sort of self-respecting woman would you be if you waited around the house for a man to text you back, even if he was the prettiest man you’d ever laid eyes on?

Still, you couldn’t help yourself; you put on Anthem of the Peaceful Army as you got ready for your coworker's wedding, paying special attention to the drums in each song.

When you felt you were sufficiently dolled up in your floral green tea dress, you took one last glance in the mirror and headed out. It was a morning wedding with a brunch reception afterwards, and you figured you’d probably take your leave after congratulating the happy couple and having a mimosa or two.

At the church, you were ushered into an aisle near the back on the bride’s side. The old wooden pew creaked with every movement, and muted voices filled up the quiet of the stone building.

“Well. Fancy seeing you here, sunshine.”

You whirled around and found yourself greeted by Danny’s familiar, heart-tilting smile.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded in a whisper. You tried not to get too distracted by his half-up, half-down hairstyle that gave him a very sweet look in his smart tweed blazer. 

“You want me to leave?” he teased.

“No, I...” You followed him with your gaze as he came to sit with you, feeling a blush rise to your face as you felt his warmth and became aware of just how broad he was next to you.

“You’re not stalking me, are you?” you said, only half joking.

He smiled. “Maybe you’re stalking me.” He fiddled with the wedding program. “Who gets married at ten in the morning?”

You agreed that it was a little early for your tastes, especially while you were on school break, but you were too busy figuring out how you could have coincidentally run into him twice in as many days at the weirdest possible events.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?” you asked.

“The groom. I knew him in high school before he moved here.”

“You mean to tell me that a guy you knew in high school is getting married to one of my coworkers?” you asked.

Danny grinned. “Small world, isn’t it?”

It was crazy. It was unbelievable. It was... fate, maybe, just like he’d said yesterday.

You shook your head, clearing it of that particular fanciful thought.

He leaned back, propping his ankle on his knee, stretching his arm out behind you on the back of the pew. You pressed a surreptitious hand to your cheek, feeling a red-hot blush at his closeness, his arm bracketing you against him, his knee brushing yours. Against your better judgment, you felt a kind of schoolgirl thrill at his display.

“Shouldn’t you be sitting on the groom’s side?” you asked. The groom and his party were getting set up at the front of the church, each of them dapper to the man.

“I don’t think so,” Danny said seriously. “Somebody else might sit next to you, and then I’d have to punch his lights out, and then I’d get us both kicked out of your coworker’s wedding. You’d never live that one down.”

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand to try and keep quiet. Danny only smiled at you.

“Are you staying for the reception?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said. “It’s supposed to be brunch, and there’s very little that could get me to pass up free brunch.”

He hummed in agreement. “Wise lady.”

He handed you the program when you held your hand out for it. “Did you bring my jacket?”

“Why would I have brought your jacket, Danny?” you asked with a smile. “I would have thought it more likely to get killed by a meteor on the way here than to see you at this wedding.”

He laughed. “Where do you come up with this stuff, sunshine?”

You liked that you’d made him laugh, perhaps a bit too much. You bit your lip and tried to tear your gaze away from his smile.

Thankfully, everyone’s attention was pulled to the back of the church when the pianist started to play. You stood, Danny steadying you with a gentlemanly hand to your arm.

“Oh, she looks beautiful,” you said in a hushed voice when you saw the bride coming down the aisle. You’d never seen your fellow teacher look so lovely and so radiant. 

Danny nudged you gently. “Look at him.”

You turned to see the groom, and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw how happy and very near tears he was at seeing his bride.

“He loves her,” Danny said quietly, and his voice was warm with affection. “It’s plain as day on his face. That’s the look of his best and longest love.”

You looked up at Danny, endeared and wondering at such a plainly romantic thought from a man.

“What do you know about best and longest loves?” you asked.

He smiled over at you. “I don’t know, sunshine. What do you know about them?”

You looked away then, too drawn to him for your own good. Something in you didn’t want him to know that the idea of a best and longest love was completely foreign to you, something you’d long since given up on having.

When the bride joined the groom at the front, the pastor asked the congregation to join in singing a hymn. There was only one hymnal in your pew, and Danny stooped a little and looked over your shoulder so you could share.

Morning has broken, the first verse read, like the first morning. 

“Isn’t this... a Cat Stevens song?” you asked quietly, feeling a little foolish for thinking so.

Danny chuckled, his breath warm against your skin.

“It was originally a hymn,” he said. “But yes, you’re correct. Cat Stevens did cover it on his album Teaser and the Firecat.”

You turned to meet his eyes and found he was closer than you’d thought. Your noses bumped together, and he scrunched his in a playful wince.

“Sorry,” you whispered, trying not to giggle while everybody else was singing.

He smiled. “That’s okay,” he whispered back.

Both of you looked back to the hymnal, and you were determined to focus on singing like everybody else. How hard could it be?

Danny started to sing, and you were helpless not to look back at him, drawn to his voice like a flower opening to the sun. Every note was beautiful, smooth and warm like maple syrup and twice as sweet. You felt something ache in your chest as you listened to him and watched his expression.

He didn’t take his eyes off the hymnal. “Sing with me, sunshine.”

You thought you might be able to hear your heart break if you listened close enough.

“Okay,” you said, very soft.

His mouth tipped up in a gentle smile when you started to sing, and he skillfully eased his voice up until he was singing harmony with you. For a moment, there was nobody else in the world but you two, and there was nothing else you’d rather do than sing with him.

Then, before you were ready, the song came to an end. You and Danny sat together, closer to each other than you needed to be, and you tried to keep your attention on the ceremony.

“Sunny.”

You looked over at the whispered nickname. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight of him; rosy light from the stained glass window shone all around him, shades of pink and blue and gold dancing in his curls and catching in his eyes.

He pressed a small piece of paper into your hand, one of those pew cards people filled out to get in touch with the church.

I like your dress, it read in his slightly messy handwriting. It’s very pretty.  

You blushed, not quite able to meet his eyes. You mouthed a thank you.

He smiled and nudged you a little, wanting you to write him back. He handed you the golf pencil he’d taken from the back of the pew.

Thank you, you wrote back. I think you look rather dapper.

He read it and gave an amused roll of his eyes. He scrawled another message back to you.

Thank you - I didn’t mean to guilt you into complimenting me, LOL. I just wanted you to be my pen pal.

You breathed a laugh and drew a smiley face next to his note. Then, tell me a good Cat Stevens song.

He nodded sagely and took the pencil back from you. 

The boy with a moon and star on his head, he wrote. That's a great one.

You drew a stick figure with a moon and star on its forehead. Danny drew another stick figure holding hands with yours, this one with the swirly hair usually indicative of a girl.

You pointed to the one he’d drawn, then to him, then to you. With his long, pretty curls, who could tell whether he’d meant it to be him or you?

He smiled. He drew big cartoony muscles on the boy with the moon and star on his head, and it made you laugh.

You didn’t know how long you’d expected the ceremony to be, but it felt no longer than a few minutes with Danny beside you scrawling notes to amuse you. He flipped the paper over and drew something with more focus than a doodle needed, the tip of his tongue held between his teeth; you barely heard the vows being exchanged at the front of the church, so intent were you on simply looking at the boy next to you.

He showed you his drawing when he was done: it was the stick figure couple in three scenes, one with a coffin in the background, one with champagne flutes in hand, one with both of them shrugging and a giant question mark looming in the background.

You drew the girl giving a jacket back to the boy. Danny smiled and drew the boy with a thumbs up.

When the bride and groom were pronounced man and wife, you and Danny stood as they came down the aisle hand in hand. You saw Danny slip the paper into his inside jacket pocket, close to his heart, and you tried not to overthink it very much.

“Shall we get some brunch?” he asked, offering you his arm as the rest of the guests started to file out.

You felt a little bashful as you looped your arm with his. “We shall, my good sir.”

The reception was a short walk away in the old, beautifully preserved hall adjacent to the church. Danny found a table for the two of you and excused himself to get mimosas for both of you, clinking his glass against yours when he returned.

“To the happy couple,” he said. “May they live in a beautiful stick house and have lots of stick figure children.”

You laughed, feeling as bubbly as the champagne in your drink.

You and Danny talked as the rest of the guests milled around during the cocktail hour, and you joined in the toast when the bride and groom came in from taking pictures. You both went straight for the waffle bar when brunch started, like-minded in the swirls of whipped cream on both your plates.

“We’re going for blueberries, of course,” he said, reaching across you to get to the fruit.

“Blueberries?” you protested. You reached across his arm. “No way. Raspberries are the obvious answer here.”

“Just try some with your waffle,” he said, spooning some blueberries onto your plate. “Trust me.”

“Fine,” you said, giving him a scoop of raspberries. “Trust me, too.”

“You’re a handful, you know that?” he teased.

You hummed in agreement. “A handful of raspberries, maybe.”

He grinned, and you decided that if given the chance, you’d probably, unfortunately, enjoy spending the rest of your life making him smile like that.

Back at your table, you both grudgingly agreed that the other’s choice in fruit wasn’t so bad. Every so often, one of Danny’s old friends or one of your coworkers would come over and say hello; you told each other the details of your relationships with each person as they left your table.

“That’s Mrs. Kline,” you said, leaning close to Danny to keep from being overheard as the second grade teacher walked off. “She’s a basket case.”

Danny almost choked on his coffee. He recovered with slightly strained laughter.

“You don’t pull your punches, do you, sunny?”

You smirked. “I’m right, though. Work one day with her and you’ll agree with me.”

You were about to tell him one of your more entertaining stories about Mrs. Kline when you caught sight of someone coming towards you with eager, undivided focus. 

“Oh, shit,” you whispered. “Uh, Danny? I need you to be my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily. You would have blushed if you hadn’t been dreading the arrival of your awful coworker so much, trying to think of how to make the interaction as quick and painless as possible.

“Scott!” you said, unable to help the way you pitched your voice up to sound more feminine and cheerful. Danny glanced at you with a bemused frown, but he caught on when Scott came up to your table.

“I’m glad to see you’re here,” Scott said, all but ignoring Danny in favor of looking at you with an avid interest. “I’ve been wanting to spend some time together outside of school.”

Danny put his arm over the back of your chair. “You two work together, is that right?” he asked.

Scott seemed surprised that Danny had spoken. 

“That’s right,” he said. “We work closely together.”

You cringed inwardly. “Scott’s the technical aide in the office,” you explained.

“I keep everything running smoothly around there,” Scott said importantly.

Danny gave him a cool smile. “I’m sure you do.”

Scott gave Danny a look of poorly concealed disdain. 

“And who are you?” he asked. “You’re not a new hire, are you?”

“Oh, no,” Danny assured him. You almost wished he’d tell Scott he was a world-famous, fabulously wealthy rockstar, but you knew he was too humble even in a situation like this to do so.

“Well, I’d love to talk to her for a while,” Scott said, obviously dismissing Danny and speaking about you like you had no choice in the matter. “Work things, you know.”

Danny gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, assuring you he wasn’t going to leave. You hadn’t worried he would leave you at the mercy of your arrogant coworker, but the reassurance was a welcome comfort all the same.

“You’re on spring break, aren’t you?” Danny asked, pointed but just polite enough to leave Scott fuming. “Gotta be nice to have a week or so where you don't have to worry about work stuff, right?”

“I suppose,” he ground out.

Danny smiled. “Great.” He looked to you. “You wanted to get some pictures under the flower arch, right, honey?”

You managed a feeble smile and tried to play along. “I did. Thank you for remembering.”

Danny stood and offered you a hand up.

“Good talking to you, Scott,” he said, effectively cutting off any further conversation and letting you go ahead of him to make your escape outside. You glanced over your shoulder to see Scott looking stunned that anyone had dared to interrupt the time he felt he was owed with you, but you were grounded with the touch of Danny’s hand at the small of your back.

“Come on, sunshine,” he said.

He led you outside to where a beautiful flower arch had been set up for picture-taking. You breathed a sigh of relief to be free of Scott and turned to thank Danny for his help.

“I’m sorry if I handled that stupidly,” Danny said, before you’d even had the chance to start speaking. The cool, confident mask he’d worn when talking to Scott was now gentled by concern and remorse.

“I didn’t mean to take over and talk for you,” he said. “I was just trying to help, but maybe I made it worse.”

You softened and came closer to him.

“I was glad you talked to him for me,” you admitted. “I wouldn’t have known what to say. I always end up being more polite and agreeable than I ought to be with him, even when he gets pushy.”

The breeze pushed a lock of hair across your face; he reached and gently tucked it behind your ear.

“You shouldn’t let him or anybody else treat you like that,” he said. “But I understand that it might be intimidating to stand up to him. I’m sorry he’s disrespectful to you.”

You gave him a weak smile. “Thank you. And thank you for your help. You’re a very good actor.”

He smiled. “The best acting comes from the heart, you know.”

You felt your cheeks warm. “So I’ve heard.”

Pulling your phone out of your bag, you turned towards the flower arch. “We might as well get some pictures while we’re out here, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, sunny.”

You gestured for him to stand in front of it and pulled up your camera.

Danny’s brow raised. “Me?”

You smiled. “Yes, you. Surely you’re familiar with getting your picture taken, mister big-time.”

He gave you a dry smile and went to stand in front of the arch like you directed. His expression relaxed into a handsome smile as he stood with the ease of someone who was, in fact, very comfortable in front of a camera. 

“You like doing photoshoots, don’t you?” you teased. It was a great picture, Danny all dressed up in front of the gorgeous arch of peach roses and silver dollar eucalyptus. “I feel like some rock stars do and some don’t, and you’re one of the ones who do.”

He shrugged, a telling smile tipping the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”

You couldn’t exactly blame him; if you were as photogenic as Danny, you’d probably like getting your picture taken too.

“Do another pose,” you said. “Let’s get a good one for the secret instagram you post all your dorky pictures on.”

He didn’t have the chance to deliver a witty comeback before he buried his face against the crook of his arm and sneezed once, twice, three times.

“‘Scuse me,” he said when he’d recovered, his voice a little hoarse.

“Bless you,” you said. “Times three. That’s not a very good pose, though.”

He chuckled. “No, probably not.” He stepped out from under the arch and came to your side again.

“You okay?” you asked, noticing his eyes were a little glassy.

He hummed in agreement. “The roses,” he said. “No big deal.”

“Danny!” you scolded. “You should have said something! I wouldn’t have tortured you by making you take pictures under a gigantic bunch of roses if I’d known you were deathly allergic to them.”

He smiled, already starting to look better now that he was a few paces away from the arch.

“You’re awfully dramatic, sunshine. You know that, right?”

You waved him off. “Fine,” you said airily. “Keel over dead if you want.”

He took your phone from you. “Go. Your turn.”

You stood in front of the arch and fluffed out the bell of your dress. “So, you’re saying I shouldn’t bring you roses as a thank you for letting me borrow your jacket?”

“You mean for letting you steal my jacket?” he teased. “No, you shouldn’t get me roses. Not unless you’ve got some Benadryl hidden in that dress of yours.”

You laughed, and he took a picture right as you did. “Keep laughing like that, sunny.”

“Keep amusing me, Daniel,” you said tartly.

He grinned as he took another picture. “Actually, I take it back. I like this sassy look. You’re like a scary flower goddess or something.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “That’s the most interesting compliment I think I’ve ever gotten, Danny.”

“My pleasure,” he said. He took a few last pictures. “Here. Come see if you like them.”

You stood on your tiptoes and hung on his arm to see. “Oh, those are wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said sweetly. “Though I admit, it’s not very hard to take a good picture when what you’re photographing is so lovely.”

Your smile was wry. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”

“Only for you,” he said. He traced an x over his heart. “Cross my heart, sunshine.”

You enjoyed the breezy spring day for a little while longer before you went back inside, getting to your seats again just in time to see the bride and groom share a donut from their tiered donut “cake”. You got one for you and Danny to share too, and you spent way too long fantasizing about kissing the sugar off his fingertips.

“So, sunshine.” Danny cradled his coffee cup in one big hand. “I have a proposition for you.”

You waggled your brows. “Oh, is that so?”

He laughed. “Not that kind of proposition,” he corrected. “A proposition about our coffee date.”

Despite the fun you’d had with him today, you still felt the tiniest sting of embarrassment at the reminder that you’d asked him out and not gotten a wholehearted “yes”.

“Did we decide we were having a coffee date?” you asked, trying for nonchalance.

His smile was gentle and a little apologetic. 

“I know I didn’t give you the answer you wanted,” he said. “It wasn’t the answer I wanted, either.”

He leaned his elbows on the table. “This wedding was one of the things I was trying to cram in this week,” he said. “And I would have invited you, but I was worried you might have thought it was weird to have a date at a wedding. Luckily, you were here anyway, and we did have a date at a wedding, and you still want to go out with me again. Maybe.”

You smiled. “Maybe.”

He grinned back. “So, if that’s the case, I’d like to propose another wedding date this week.”

No way, you thought. “Is it tomorrow?” There was no way you could both unknowingly be invited to the same wedding again.

He shook his head. “It’s the day after,” he said, and you were a little relieved to know the two of you hadn’t stumbled into a glitch in the matrix.

“Why?” he asked. “Are you only free tomorrow?”

You laughed a little. “No, I actually have another wedding too. I’m flying out tonight.”

You met his eyes, an insane idea occurring to you. He watched your face with a growing smile.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I have kind of a crazy idea,” you said.

He nodded. “Hit me.”

“Well...” You toyed with the handle of your coffee cup. You wanted to invite him, but airfare wouldn’t be cheap the day of. 

“It might be expensive,” you admitted.

“That’s not a problem,” he said. He pinked a little. “I mean, I’m not trying to be crass or arrogant, but... you don’t have to be worried about that.”

You found his bashfulness endearing, even if the thought of how much money he made had your head spinning a little.

“Well, in that case,” you said, trying to play it cool and not let on how much you wanted him to come, “I’d like to invite you to be my plus one for this wedding tomorrow. If... if you’d like to come.”

He beamed. 

“I’d love to,” he said sincerely. “If you’ll come to the other wedding the day after as my plus one.”

“My flight back from the first wedding isn’t until the afternoon,” you warned.

He considered that. “The second wedding starts at 6:30,” he said. “And it’s about half an hour from here. When does your flight land?”

“Three,” you said.

He shrugged. “Up to you. I’m game if you are.”

You couldn’t believe you were even considering this. Yesterday morning, you'd been worried that most of your spring break would be spent being home alone; now, here you were, about to agree to a whirlwind couple of days of weddings, late-night partying, and Danny.

You gave him a helpless smile. “Okay.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You want to do this?” 

Oh, but with his contagious excitement and that beaming smile, it was far too easy to say yes to him.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Let’s do this.”

Read part three!

danny taglist: @tearsofbri @busybeingtrash @myway-late @gotavansleep @gretavanbri

fic taglist: @mydarlingdanny @streamsofstardust

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf  @jakeydoesit  @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones  @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

[jake-g-lockley]

di im having frankie x desi!reader thoughts :""""""D

like imagine him and you being invited to a wedding and you're part of the wedding party so you don't get ready with him and even though the both of you are engaged he's never seen you in a fancy ass lehenga before so he absolutely freezes when you walk past him, in your element, tying jasmine onto the brides hair and you see him and bonus if before you both leave you adjust his sherwani pin and THE MAKING OUT THAT ENSUES MY GOD IM YEARNING SO BADLY RN

Asian Ting in a Lehenga (Frankie Morales x desi!reader)

Masterlist

Warning: kissing + hot Frankie, swearing Word count: 1k

A/N: tell me that this robe wasn’t just a sherwani and that the ovary or blood vessel I just burst was worth it. Short drabble based on this ask by @brekkers-desigirl and damn my brain literally can't handle this omggggg

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Frankie frowned at his reflection as he ruffled his hair, attempting to tame it down a notch before leaning against the wall furthest from the crowd as he waited for you. The deep mustard sherwani that was detailed with suns you had bought for him made him look like a prince but Frankie had always been one to not like the spotlight on him. He sighed as he looked at his watch for the umpteenth time, waiting for you to make your appearance. 

To call you his fiance was a great gift and he loved your family, your culture and whatever made you the beautiful woman that you were. You were quite literally the apple of his eye and no one on this big blue Earth even comes close to you. 

As the sister of the bride, you had taken your position as the maid of honor very seriously, making sure that everything was planned down to military precision, which Frankie also was very proud of (and slightly turned on by). Frankie absolutely enjoyed the whole of yesterday, watching you order people around while he trailed around you eating and feeding you tasty Indian sweets, his mouth set in a dreamy grin that earned him buckets of laughter from your relatives. 

Frankie’s thought bubble burst as he caught your distinct sweet perfume. Before he could call your name, you quickly brushed past him to rush up to your sister. Frankie’s mouth dropped to the floor as he freezes, his eyes scanning your form as you held up jasmine flowers while yelling at your sister. Frankie had never seen you in Indian clothes before and he swore that you had exceeded his expectations tremendously. 

Your lehenga was the same shade as his, decorated with similar sun patterns and its long skirt cascaded down your body as though you were a goddess draped in sunshine. Your hair was worn in a half up and half down hairstyle with long beautiful tendrils framing your face. You were pinning the extra flowers onto your sister's hair while Frankie’s eyes were pinned onto your gorgeous skin that peaked between your blouse and skirt. Frankie made the mistake of moving his eyes slightly upwards, gazing at the low neckline that adorned your blouse and he felt a warm swirl of dizziness settle in the pits of his stomach.

He reached out for you and you moved, causing your dupatta to latch onto a bead at the cuff of his sherwani. He mindlessly followed you as your dupatta clinged onto him like the last ounce of his sanity. He watched your hips move almost fluidly and he couldn’t take it any longer, his arm reaching out to grab you and pull you close. You gasped and let yourself be pulled into his chest as he turned you to face him. 

“Frankie…” you breathed, scanning his face as your face lit up in a smile, only for it to fade once you caught the look that graced your man’s face. 

Once your brain had regained its functioning abilities, you wordlessly stood a little straighter and tipped your chin upwards, freeing your arms from his grasp. Frankie dropped his arms to his side and dipped his head.

Fortunately for Frankie, you had other ideas. 

You curled a finger under his chin and tipped his face up so that his eyes met yours. You stare for a while, admiring the way he had shaped-up his beard and the way the sherwani settled beautifully on his broad shoulders. You dropped your hand to the collar and adjusted his sherwani pin before pulling him close, until your mouth grazed his ear. 

“Bride's changing room in five, pretty boy.” you said, before leaving Frankie to stand there open mouthed as you quickly rushed off to settle your sister. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The second you had opened that door, you knew you made a small error in choosing a lehenga with such a low neckline. You clamped your eyes shut as you were pulled into a hasty rush of yellow, big hands grabbing onto your hips and dragging you further into the room. 

“Look at me, amor.”

You opened your eyes to only have them flutter close as Frankie traces a line along your exposed abdomen with one of his fingers, before pinching you softly, making you gasp.

“Francisco!”

“I did tell you to look at me.” he shrugged as he smiled down at you.

“Fine, I am now, what are you-”

Frankie cut you off by pulling you close and kissing you fiercely, the fury blinding you to the point that you felt like blacking out. He pinched you again and licked into your mouth when you groaned and pushed his straying hand away. You slid your hands into his curls as you deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against his chest. His lips were warm against you before he suddenly pulled away and nipped at yours, causing you to moan a little too loudly for your liking. He pulled you in for one more kiss before leaning his forehead against yours and exhaling heavily.

“Fuck, you look delectable, mi diosa.” He says, laughing at how delirious he felt, tugging at your skirt. 

“Nuh, uh, that's enough, big boy. We’re going to be late.” you said, shaking your head at the way Frankie’s fingers grip your skirt and the way he dipped his head to your neck for some soft kisses. 

“A goddess, that's what you are, and you are mine.” he said into your neck.

You love the effect you had on him, but you had a wedding to run. Frankie groaned softly as you pulled his hands away from your skirt. 

“I’ll let you have your way if you behave.” you said, wondering if the compromise might put his thoughts on hold. 

“Fine, but I don’t think I ruined your make up enough.” He said playfully, swiping his finger on his lips to show you the lipstick you left on it. 

“Now you understand why I didn’t get ready with you right?” you said, patting his face. 

“We would have never left the room and I would have been fine with that.” he huffed as you laughed and kissed him on his cheek, happy with your oversized troublemaker. 

Tagging: @romanarose @mintpurplemnm @swiggy-needs-mental-help

[crystallizedkingdoms]

ᐊᕿᑦᑐᖅ

Johann braids Avi’s soft hair in peace.

wc: 1,708

this is a fic I wrote back in fuckin. 2021. I think it was the first fic i ever wrote with my inuk avi, so it features that very prominently. I posted it solely on tumblr for funsies. but finally I’ve posted it on ao3, where you can read it now. but alongside with it I edited it Just a tad (plus an extra paragraph) so I think it deserves a repost.

“Hey, be careful.”

Johann pulls his hand away from Avi’s hair. “Sorry,” he says almost immediately. “Won’t start from there then. Can I try again?”

“Yeah.”

…

“Hey, don’t tug too hard, man.”

“Okay, now you’re just lying. I haven’t even touched your hair yet!” Johann huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Though Avi faces away from him, focused more on his phone rather than much else, Johann can practically feel the smug grin growing on his face when he says that.

“I could feel you thinking really hard about it!” Though Avi tenses slightly when Johann takes the ends of his hair into his hands, he plays it off by shifting his position on the floor. “So what’re you going to do? Just my usual ponytail or something?”

Threading his fingers through Avi’s soft hair to rid it of any knots he might’ve missed with the comb, Johann hums in thought. “Not sure. Just a simple half up half down braid, maybe, if that was okay with you,” he says when he’s finally sure that he has gotten rid of any tangle in Avi’s hair. Not that he had many to begin with. He’s careful with that sort of thing, Johann has come to notice.

“What’s that look like?”

“Fuckin’ Google it or wait for the results. You’ve got your phone right in front of you. I can’t project the image into your brain.”

Avi laughs, and it’s a sound that makes Johann feel hot all over his skin every time he hears it, no matter how many times he’s experienced it before. “All right, all right. Just give me the vibes of it or something, at least?” he asks, his head twisting to the side to look over his shoulder. There’s a big grin resting on his lips from what Johann can see, and he wants nothing more than to lean in and kiss him.

But Johann simply pushes Avi’s cheek away to face ahead. He has braiding to do, after all. “Think Pinterest wedding vibes. I might put an Inuk spin on them though. What I have in mind will look really cute on you.”

“You’re giving me a Pinterest hairstyle? That’s practically sacreligious.”

“…Are you being serious? I won’t do it if you are.”

“No, I’m not being serious. You can do it! I was just kidding,” Avi’s grin can be heard when he says that, which gets a small smack on the arm from Johann. “Ow! I said I was kidding!”

Kissing his teeth, Johann gathers a section of hair from the right side of Avi’s head, near his temple, “You kid too much. Now, do you want it to be tight or not? It needs two small braids around the side of your head, around the length I’m holding right now. Is that fine? Do you want more or less hair for these braids?”

When Johann asks these questions, he notices how Avi’s body finally relaxes from its tense state from earlier. He leans a little closer to Johann and his shoulders slump into a more comfortable position. “The amount of hair is fine. Try not to make it too tight or too close to the scalp or whatever? Whenever I try to braid it myself I always go too tight and it sucks. And when I loosen it, it just falls apart completely,” Avi explains with a sigh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with braided hair. Is that why?” Johann attempts to make conversation as he segments the section of hair in his hands and begins to braid them in a simple manner. He intentionally left some hair loose and kept the braid from growing too tight. His hands move in a swift and calculated pattern, but he occasionally slows down to admire just how soft Avi’s hair was in between his fingers.

“Yeah. The ponytail I usually do is a lot easier to put on and manage than a braid,” Avi says. His voice grows quiet when Johann ties off the braid he was working on, then moves to the other side of his head to grab another section of hair. If Johann were to strain his ears just a little, he would hear the hitch in Avi’s breath when he begins the new braid.

Even though Johann would’ve preferred to talk while doing his braiding, he allows the silence to continue when he notices that Avi is completely relaxed. He watches as Avi places his phone to the side when Johann begins the second braid, and instead lets his hands rest on his lap.

Johann weaves the new braid with a rhythmic motion. He splits the section of hair in his hand into three, smaller sections, then works to thread them together into a simple braid similar to the one he made before. Over the middle, over the left, crisscrossing down the length of Avi’s hair. Not once is Johann rough— his fingers smooth down the rest of the hair that isn’t being braided when he must, he allows the braids to be loose, and he never tugs Avi’s hair, not even playfully.

What is it about this that feels so intimate? It slows Johann down. Only by a little, but it slows him regardless. Why do the tips of his fingers buzz when he threads between the silky strands of hair that Avi took great pride in and maintained to the best of his abilities? Perhaps it’s the utmost trust Avi places in Johann to care for his hair, and knowing he’s trusted to that degree sends a thrill in his chest. Or perhaps it’s simply due to how soft Avi’s hair is. Either way, Johann embraces the intimacy.

The second braid finished in nearly a minute, Johann ties it off at the end and lets it drop. He has to pick it back up anyway, but he gives himself the time to take it in. Not the braids, those are fairly simple and Johann doesn’t quite find pride in them because of it. No, he takes his time admiring Avi, from his hair to the movement of his back as he took in deep breaths.

Avi takes this pause as a sign of completion. He looks over his shoulder at Johann, his eyes twinkling softly. “Are you done already? Most of my hair isn’t braided,” he points out. Aside from the sections of hair near his temple, the rest of his dark hair flows freely down his back.

Johann shakes his head and takes the rest of the unbraided hair into his hands. He begins to weave it into one big braid, in the simple pattern as the other two, “No, I’m not done. Sorry, I was just looking over it.”

That makes Avi turn back around, but not before Johann could catch a bashful smile on his face as opposed to the wide grin from before. “Like what you see, eh?”

“Duh. Your hair is really nice. Really, really soft. Also really thick, it’s a bit tough to braid this big one.”

“See what I’m talking about?? It’s too hard to put it into braids,” Avi sighs and slouches his back.

In response, Johann pauses the braiding and pushes one hand on the centre of Avi’s back to force him back into a straighter position. “It’s not too hard for me. It just takes a few seconds to get used to, that’s all. If you want me to do this for you more often, I can,” he says when he continues his work.

As he completes the final braid, Johann takes the two smaller braids and tucks the ends of them into the larger braid, creating a distinct loop to them. Once he’s finished, Johann props the large braid over Avi’s shoulder, then places a kiss on the nape of his neck. “Okay, now I’m done. Your phone is right next to your ass if you wanna check it out.”

“Check out my hair or my ass?”

“You do the first, I’ll do the second when we’re done.”

Avi takes his phone and swipes to the camera. As he props the phone up towards his face, Johann is surprised to see that the corner Avi’s eyes are wet with barely-held-back tears. He doesn’t ask about it— Johann knows the reason. Asking will only embarrass Avi.

“Hey, you actually did a really good job,” Avi mutters in awe, his free hand moving to feel at the larger braid.

“You doubted me?”

Avi shakes his head and places the phone back on the ground so he can turn and fully face Johann. “Of course not! I just wasn’t sure what it’d look like on me. I really like it though.” His hands are fiddling with the braided loops by his temple when he says, “Thank you, babe. I really mean it.”

Johann rolls his eyes and presses a kiss against the bridge of Avi’s nose, right up against the line of tunniit on his skin. “Oh, you’re such a sap, but you’re welcome. I wouldn’t mind doing it more often if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Yeah, I think that’d be nice,” Avi admits with that sheepish smile.

They quiet down for a moment, their faces still so close that their foreheads almost touch. Johann thinks about backing away just as he feels Avi shift his head. He cocks his face so his nose is pressed right onto Johann’s cheek, and he inhales against his soft skin. The deep sniff makes Johann’s heart pound wildly in his chest, and he can’t help but smile without restraint just feeling it.

“I still can’t believe you do that with me now.”

“Who’s the sap now? Getting all giddy over a kunik,” Avi teases. Johann doesn’t dignify it with a response— he just toys with Avi’s new braid and leans into Avi’s body. Enjoying their closeness.

Avi gives Johann another kunik. Then another, breathing in so deep and breathing out so gently. Then Avi moves again, and he kisses Johann’s lips, and Johann throws his arms around Avi’s neck with one hand on the base of the braid. Until they’re both smiling and giggling into their kiss for god knows how long.

And it’s soft the whole time.

[muertebloom]

A run down of Kirsi Ninelives' questline, The Cat Burglar.

In Act 1, a member of the Horned Syndicate will attack at night, trying to take revenge for the death of someone named Agni. The best outcome is the attacker being talked down, as Kirsi will reveal the most information in that scenario, explaining who the Horned Syndicate were and her involvement in Agni’s disappearance.

During the Tiefling party ( or if the player initiates it, ) Kirsi will offer to spend the night with them. She will teach the player Theives’ Cant, if they don’t already know it, and falls asleep cuddling them. When they awaken, Kirsi is frozen to the touch, whimpering from a nightmare - this is where she will tell the player that her magic is tied to her feelings, and that extreme emotions can cause her ice magic to act out.

In Act 2, the party can find a letter in the Shadowlands on the corpse of a courier ( Highlighted with a D10 Perception check ) addressed to Kirsikka Virtanen, rescinding her disowning and inviting her back to House Virtanen, signed by Dame Ilmi and Sir Kamal. If Kirsi is confronted about it, she will try to say she knows nothing about it, but can be persuaded to tell the player about her family and being disowned - and not knowing why her mother and step-father would invite her back.

During this act, Kirsi will have a long rest scene where she’s trying to put braids back into her hair, but is struggling doing it alone. The player can offer to help, and after a time skip, Kirsi will have her new hairstyle. A romanced Kirsi will ask to kiss the player, moving her into the partnered stage.

In Act 3, her plot culminates during an attack on the player’s camp ( similar to the attacks on Astarion and Aylin ) where, if Kirsi drops to 0HP, she is kidnapped by members of the Horned Syndicate.

Regardless of whether or not Kirsi is kidnapped, the player can Speak with Dead or find instructions on the attacker’s bodies, showing that Kirsi was to be taken House Virtanen in the very upper edge of the Lower City.

Whether or not she is kidnapped, the player will need to make their way to House Virtanen. Outside of the house is Vetle of Elturel, a well known adventurer ( level 12 ) who shares a striking resemblance to the party’s sorcerer. He will tell the player that he, too, is visiting House Virtanen, and will enter with them. If Kirsi is with the player, she will meet her father for the first time here. It’s so sweet.

Once inside the manor, the party will meet a human man calling himself Lord Agni, who is chatting with Dame Ilmi about his engagement to “Kirsikka.” If it isn’t obvious, the player can find a journal confirming that Lord Agni is the same Agni that ran The Horned Syndicate, and the engagement is his ploy to get back at Kirsi and gain a noble title.

If Kirsi is kidnapped, the player will have to sneak around to find her, where she's locked in the basement. She will explain that her mother is forcing her to get married to some lord. The player can tell her that the unknown lord is Agni, to her revulsion. From there, the player has the option to break her out then and there, or wait until the wedding. Breaking Kirsi out then and there is hard, and it is advisable to wait for the wedding.

If Kirsi is not kidnapped, but is there when the party enters House Virtanen, her mother will spring the engagement on her, happily welcoming her “beloved first born” back into the house. Kirsi will immediately think something is wrong, but the love-bombing is somehow not tadpole related. Instead, Dame Ilmi will quietly threaten Kirsi’s half sister’s life if Kirsi does not comply.

Regardless, once the player has learned of the wedding, it will take place in 3 days. The party will need to go to House Virtanen on the day of the wedding, if they’re to put their plan in motion.

At the wedding, the party can have dialogue with most of Kirsi’s family. Her step-father, Sir Kamal, is a checked out, depressed man, but the player can suggest he stand up to his wife - that it’s what a true noble would do. Her half-sister, Kielo, is lethargic and vacant, and a Medicine check will reveal she’s under the effects of poison. If challenged on her behavior, Dame Ilmi will rebuff the player, saying that all noble women are forced to get married, and Kirsi should have expected it. Agni will taunt the player, especially if Kirsi has been romanced.

Once the ceremony has started ( by talking to Kirsi, who is glamoured to be a human, similar to Agni ) the Player can either object themselves or allow Kirsi to object. If the Player objects, Agni will challenge the player to a duel. At half HP in the duel, or if Kirsi is the one who objects, Kirsi will break the glamour on herself and Agni, and reveal her mother’s plot in front of high society. This will cause a fight with Agni’s Horned Syndicate, Dame Ilmi’s guards, and Sir Kamal’s paladins. Unless, of course, Sir Kamal was talked into standing up for himself, in which case, the Paladins will be on the side of the party. Once the wedding has stopped, Kirsi will get the Inspiration Point, Speak Now: Object to an unwanted wedding.

If the player wants, for some reason, for Kirsi to go through with the wedding, they can instead Hold Your Peace. By convincing Kirsi to keep her mouth shut ( much easier if the player has encouraged her to be more reticent throughout the campaign ) the wedding goes through normally, and Kirsi will be lost as a companion. Returning to House Virtanen the next morning will see Kirsi nearly non-responsive, poisoned like her half-sister was at the wedding. Agni will pledge to have the Horned Syndicate join the final battle, as thanks for helping Kirsi “come to her senses.”

A romanced Kirsi’s final scene will happen after the wedding, where she will be in her wedding dress in the ruins of the wedding venue. She and Tav will talk about the future together, and Kirsi will admit she’s had enough of weddings - and doesn’t need one, unless Tav wants one. Regardless, so long as Tav chooses to stay with Kirsi, they will help Kirsi undo the wedding dress, and have sex together.

EPILOGUE: Speak Now Kirsi will have continued adventuring alongside her father, Vetle, who comes to the party as well. She’s enjoying catching up on years of missed father-daughter bonding. If inquired about, the player can learn that Dame Ilmi was thrown out of House Virtanen, which is now headed by Sir Kamal. Hold Your Peace Kirsi will not be at the party.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"It Now Belongs To You" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 2/10: "Sailing Lessons" Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: T Word Count: (2.2K/10.6K) Summary: When Emma and Killian receive a pair of magic beans as a wedding gift, they take a voyage on the Jolly Roger for their honeymoon- but a wrench is thrown into their romantic getaway when they run into a notorious pirate who's staked a claim on the Jolly Roger. Chapter Summary: Now that their voyage on The Jolly Roger is beginning, Emma decides it's time to dress the part- and Killian is awestruck as ever. He then teaches her how to steer The Jolly Roger and they share some sweet moments together. Tags: post-canon, canon compliant, fluff, no smut, suggestive themes, alcohol, gambling, self indulgent fluff with a sprinkling of angst Author's notes: I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as you loved the last one! Cheers!

Also on Ao3!

Emma took a final glance in the mirror in the captain's quarters. How long Killian had been holding onto a piratesque outfit that was conveniently a perfect fit for her was beyond her understanding, but she cut quite the figure in it. The shirt was white, cut low, and it paired with a flowing black skirt with a side slit cut almost too high. There's nothing too incredibly piratey about that, but when matched with a jeweled belt, a few jeweled bracelets, and mismatched earrings- as well as a hairstyle that Emma felt fell somewhere between Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann- the overall effect was, well, rather piratesque.

 As soon as David had heard about Hook and Emma's plan to visit the Enchanted Forest, he'd made sure Emma was well equipped with the finest sword- who knew her dad's overprotective nature could be so cool sometimes?- and she slid the sword into the sheath in her belt, completing the whole ensemble.

 She walked down the ship's hallway to the top deck, stepping through the hatch into the sunlight. Once she was topside, she made her way up the stairs to the top deck, where her husband stood at the wheel.

 Traditionally in this realm, he'd wear his captain's jacket, but apparently the day was warm enough that he felt the need to forego it, wearing instead simply his his leather pants and a black button down shirt- half the buttons unbuttoned, of course, but Emma didn't expect anything less from him.

 She was a bit taken aback at how at peace he looked, falling in love even more with him just simply seeing him in his element, at home at the helm. How she’d managed to land the hottest pirate in all the realms was still a mystery to her, but she counted herself fortunate to have done so.

 His tranquil moment was interrupted by her presence, but in the way chocolate chips interrupt a batch of cookies, or the way the bloopers interrupt the end credits- like that moment was merely a vessel for her arrival. He turned to her with a dazzling smile, but when he saw her it fell into an awestruck one, eyes widening, jaw dropping.

 He looked at her like he'd been looking for her all of his life- and wasn't about to lose her, like she was a typhoon and he was ready to be devastated, like she was his light and world.

 Emma blushed a little as she realized that he was looking at her, looking at her again like she was everything he ever wanted, ever needed. She glanced down at her shoes, wondering what Killian thought of her new look- but she quickly realized she didn't need to read his mind to know she had him wrapped around her little finger right now- and she may as well have a little fun with it.

 She walked up to him and placed her hand and chin on his shoulders, whispering in his ear even though they were the only ones around.

 "Smooth sailing today, captain?" She asked.

 His eyes were still glued to her, and he blinked a few times and nodded in response, then swallowed the lump in his throat.

 "Aye, love," he said, breathlessly, and stepped back so he could see her whole form better, "Gosh, Swan."

 "Something catch your eye, captain?" She smiled a little and winked.

 He shook his head, smile so wide and breath so heavy a laugh followed it.

 "I wish, I, I don't have the words- not the ones you deserve. Any attempt I could make to convey your beauty to you with my feeble words would be an insult, a cheap apparation reflected against rough waters." He took a step back closer to her, and touched her chin, lifting her head, almost as though he was unsure she was real.

 Emma didn't know how to respond to that besides blushing and placing her hand on his wrist, her other hand on his face.

 "I love you." He said, "I love you. I love you. I love you. No matter how many times I say it, it still doesn't feel like enough."

 "I know what you mean." Emma smiled, "I love you too, Killian. I love you more than words can say."

 He smiled, blushing a little. "Maybe… maybe we could use our lips for more than just words then?"

 "I'd like that."

 "Oh, thank heavens." He smiled, "I couldn't bear another second."

 His response was rushed, as he wasn't usually a man of few words, but his passion seemed to overtake him, and he threw his arms around her as his lips met hers. He held her tightly, her hands on his chest, his hand and hook chasing each other across her back and her side.

 She slid her hands down his shirt, then under his shirt, and up his back, tracing patterns in his skin like ancient runes.

 "Oh," he breathed down her throat "oh, oh, yes, love."

 "Your shirt would be off by now if we were below deck." Emma teased.

 "Then what are we doing up here?" He asked, and she squealed a little as he picked her up.

 "Shouldn't someone be at the wheel?" Emma asked, draping one of her arms around his neck, "You ordered the men to stay below decks so we can have the topside to ourselves."

 "I can call them back up here." Killian said, and he began kissing her again, still holding her in his arms.

 "There'll be plenty of time for that tonight." Emma pulled back. "I'd still like lessons in steering your ship before we next make port."

 "As you wish." He sighed and rolled his eyes as he set her down gently in front of the wheel.

 "Now," and he turned her around, taking her hands in his hand and hook, and placing them on the pegs of the wheel, guiding her arms with his, "steering a ship isn't much different from driving a car- turn the wheel portside, go portside, turn it starboardside," and he shifted the wheel in their arms a little, "go starboardside."

 "Sounds simple enough"

 "The difference between this vessel and your yellow bug though is that, while the dangers of a car involve speed, the danger of a ship comes in its size, making it hard to maneuver. You need to think a few steps ahead, and watch the horizon."

 "Got it." Emma nodded.

 "And you also have to make sure you don't get off course." He took his hand off the wheel a second to gesture with it, then placed it on Emma's hand. "We're heading due north, but if we veer from our course half a hook breadth, we could find ourselves miles off course in half an hour."

 Emma looked down at the compass on the "dashboard." (Killian had never told her what that part of the ship was called, but since the steering wheel was mounted onto it, it only made sense to refer to it as such to herself.)

 "Looks like we're a little off course."

 "Aye, love." Killian said. "You catch on quick."

 "I've got a good teacher."

 They turned the wheel together and set themselves back on course.

 "Think you're ready to steer it on your own?" Killian asked.

 "Yeah." Emma said, "I think I got it."

 He took his hands off hers and placed his right hand on her shoulder, his thumb resting on her collarbone, on the bare skin her wide-cut shirt revealed. His hook rested on her side.

 "This is nice." Emma said. "Almost soothing."

 "Aye." Killian smiled. "I've spent many a year staring out at these very seas, across the deck of this very ship, hoping the waters could smooth and erode the rough edges of a hole in my heart I thought could only be filled with revenge." He chuckled a little. "But it turns out all I needed was love- for someone to see the darkness I reveled in and encourage me to pull myself back into the light."

 "That's what I needed too." Emma said. "I had a hole in my heart- lost love, and parents, and friends- and I chose to fill it by blocking it off and pretending it wasn't there. If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't've stayed in Storybrooke."

 "Neither would I without you." He said. "I may have helped you realize you had a home, but you, you gave me a home. Thank you."

 "You're welcome."

 She felt his lips on the top of her head, then his hand gently massaging her shoulder.

 "That's good." She nodded and smiled and bit her lip.

 "Manning the helm can often leave one sore." He said, "Especially for those less experienced. A good shoulder rub can help. I only wish…"

 She thought she felt his hook leave her side and turned down to see if it had, then followed it with her eyes to where he looked down at it in shame.

 "Killian," she said, taking her hands off the wheel and placing them on his hook, "I love you just as you are. You know that, right?"

 "Be honest. Would you love me more…"

 "Hook." She said. "That's the only name I knew you by for so long, and before I met you, Captain Hook was some cartoon fool, some guy always getting chased around by a crocodile or something- but you, you're a hero, my hero."

 She pulled his arm closer, placing his hook over her heart. "Now, when I hear the word 'hook,' I think of a man who sacrifices, who fights for those he loves, who's not gonna back down in the face of any fear. This hook is a reminder that you loved someone so passionately you were willing to sacrifice for them- that no matter what, deep down, you're always the man I fell in love with, the one who fights for true love.

 "So, no." Emma said, holding his hook as naturally as though it were his hand, "I wouldn't love you more if you had a second hand- I can't love you any more than I already do- I love you, hook and all," and she brought his hook to her lips and kissed it as a knight might when meeting a fair maiden, "and don't you forget it."

 He pulled her hands to his lips with his hook and nodded, then kissed both her hands. He then swung his arm over her head and she followed it, now facing the wheel again.

 Emma turned the wheel again, as they'd strayed a hair off course, and Hook placed his hand on her shoulder again, this time a little closer to her neck, more of his fingers on her bare skin.

 And as Emma stood there, dressed as a pirate at the helm of a ship, her hot pirate husband rubbing her shoulder, nothing around but them and open sea, she thought to herself that nothing, nothing, could be more perfect than that quiet moment together- and then she realized she was wrong, because the moment somehow became even more perfect, because, ever so softly, but sweetly, and deeply, Killian began singing.

 It wasn't a song Emma knew, and it didn't sound like any shanty she was familiar with, melody like a lullaby and lyrics like a lovesong- but she ignored the "forest," the words he sang, for the "trees," for how the notes dripped from his lips, like crashing waves against the beach, like her own personal symphony.

 She sighed and leaned back a little, resting her head on his chest and smiling at up at him. His hook brushed her hair out of her face so he could see her more clearly, and his hand trickled across her shoulder, then down her side, then around her waist, resting on her other side, thumb stroking her waist slowly, with the tempo of his song. He wrapped his left arm around her as well, arms crossed near her heart- much like how a pirate buries treasure under an "X," Emma found herself buried under his embrace.

[martsonmars]

I dunno why this is in my head but: Mordelia asks Simon to walk her down the aisle.

There is way more Snowbaz than I planned, but it's probably the reason why it's not as sad as I thought it would be when I started writing. Enjoy! CW for some grief.

Read below or on AO3.

🌼🌼🌼

ii.

“You're here, finally. Isn't the best man supposed to handle this part?” Simon asks, closing the door behind him and wiping imaginary sweat off his brow. He lifts up the torn veil in his left hand, waves it around, and throws the half empty box of tissues at Baz's chest. For emphasis. They watch it bounce off and hit the floor with a sad noise.

“Shall I remind you she also has a best woman, Snow?” Baz huffs, pulling out his handkerchief (from the set monogrammed with his new initials, Simon's gift for their fifth wedding anniversary) to erase any trace of actual sweat from his face. “Trust my sister to put together a bloody squad of best people and bridespeople and yet we need even more help to fix this disaster of a wedding.”

Simon smiles, taking Baz's hand from where it's threatening to destroy four hours of hairstyling and bringing it to his lips. “It's not a disaster, babe.” He kisses Baz's knuckles, softly. “You've outdone yourself. I'm almost jealous our wedding wasn't so... fancy.”

Fancy is the wrong world to describe the way Baz managed to blend traditions and a good amount of Marriage-Is-A-Patriarchal-Institution-Fuck-The-System vibes in a seemingly effortless display of classy punkness, but they're not here to fight over vocabulary. (Though maybe it would help Baz relax.) (They always have the best sex after playing Scrabble to the death.)

And he definitely isn't jealous. He could never. Baz knows.

“This is just how weddings go when you're on this side trying to make things run smoothly,” he adds. “I've been here before.” He drops the veil to take Baz's other hand, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss between his eyebrows. He can feel the frown melt away just a little.

It's sweet, how much Baz is putting into this day, but Simon wishes he could take a breath and see that he's doing great, and that he's not alone in this. (Mordelia did put together an impressive bride's team.)

“I don't think you had to fight with two horses and two elderly women who might or might not be royalty at Nora's wedding, though,” Baz sniffles, and Simon grins. He was waiting for Baz to spill the tea about what had kept him occupied for half an hour, right in the middle of Bride Crisis Level 10.

“Nothing posh for Nora, but we struggled a bit to rent a forklift on such short notice for the reception.” Simon runs his hands down Baz's chest, smoothing the wrinkles on his shirt. He ditched waistcoat and jacket hours ago, before descending into battle as Head Best Person and Wedding Planner Extraordinaire, and the shirt is starting to pay the price. “And Will did have a Duchess on their guest list. I've seen it all.”

Sometimes Simon thinks they're lucky that Penny basically eloped and didn't need anyone's help to tie the knot, but it makes this the first wedding Baz has been deeply involved with (except for his own), and the stakes are high. He's too much of a perfectionist, and this is his little sister. Simon's surprised he hasn't had a nervous breakdown yet.

“Leave the horses and the ancient ladies to someone else.” Simon kisses Baz's forehead again and points to the door. “I think you should be there with her. Especially because I have to practice walking.”

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i.

“Simon,” Mordelia slurs, trying to get up from the sofa and failing, her body swallowed by the cushions once again. “I need you to be my Dad.”

Simon stops gathering the empty bottles and stares at her, struggling to figure out how much of that sentence is Mordelia's consciousness, how much is the alcohol speaking, and how much is Simon's hearing playing dirty tricks. 37 is too young to be old and deaf, right? Not that you need to be old to have hearing problems, but does he look old? Does he look like someone who could have a 26-year-old daughter?

Christ. He's just recovered from his quarter life crisis, he isn't ready for the next one. Fuck.

Even in her intoxicated state, Mordelia seems to notice Simon's distress and find it funny, because she snorts and pats the sofa next to her until he sits down.

It takes her ages to speak up again, and when she does Simon's sure his ears have stopped working for real.

“I'm getting married.”

His eyes shoot to her empty ring finger, and Mordelia snorts again.

“Duh, of course I proposed.” She fights with the too-soft cushions to sit up, fold her legs and lean with her side against the backrest, facing Simon. He hasn't been able to open his mouth yet. He can't believe he's been stunned into silence. “Aster is getting me a ring, too, but I beat them to it, so.” She wiggles her fingers in front of his face, and he pushes them away to pull her into a hug.

“Fuck, Mordy,” he says. He clears his throat. “I'm so happy for you. And proud.” Simon remembers every single moment of the day he proposed, even though it's been more than six years. It's not for the weak of heart, not even when you're almost absolutely certain you will get a three letter answer.

She frees herself from his arms and beams at him. “You're the first of the family to know. I want to tell Mum and my siblings in person, but no one's ever around when I need them.” She crosses her arms over her chest. The resemblance to Baz is uncanny when she pouts. “Baz's back from his school trip tomorrow, right? You should come for dinner. I want to ask him to be my best man.” Simon nods, smiling. He had quite different plans to welcome his husband home after five days apart, but he'll survive.

Mordelia's grin comes back for a second, then it's gone again. She suddenly looks completely sober, and the mood shift makes Simon sit up straighter.

“But I didn't invite you today because you were my only option. I really want you to...” She sighs, hiding her face behind a hand. “You know, I was so sure I'd never get married, years ago. Or that I'd marry a girl and he wouldn't approve and I'd be alone on my wedding day. But then he told you...”

She trails off, but she doesn't need to add anything else. After all, Simon's the one who told her about Malcolm Grimm giving him his blessing to marry Baz.“Take care of my son,” he said. “I wish I could see you two get married.”

Simon regrets not proposing sooner, sometimes, but he doesn't regret doing it when he knew they were ready for it. And they couldn't have known...

He rests his hand palm up on his thigh, and she takes it.

“And now I'm getting married, and I know he wouldn't hate me for not marrying a man, though I'm not marrying a woman either, and who knows what he would've said about it.” She laughs, but it comes out as a choked sob. “And, well, he's not here.”

Simon squeezes her hand. She's like Baz, when they talk about this kind of feelings. They need grounding touches and no meaningless words, even though Simon would mean all of them.

“And I know it's stupid, but even when I hated the idea of marriage I always imagined myself in a long white dress, with my father at my side, being proud of me.” She wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and when she looks back at Simon there's something fierce in her expression. “I want—I want—I would be really grateful if you walked me down the aisle, Simon. You and Baz are the most functioning adults in my life, which is honestly worrying, and I thought I'd pick the one least likely to start sobbing and make me trip on my dress.”

Simon laughs. It doesn't come out like a choked sob, but almost. “You clearly overestimate me,” he says, and she playfully slap his head.

“Shut up,” she grins, but her eyes are still serious. “So, will you do it?”

“Of course, Mordy. I'd be honoured to be your Dad.”

She groans into a pillow. “I know I started it, but please, stop.”

“Never, kiddo.”

🌼🌼🌼

iv.

“No horses and no duchesses were harmed in the making of this wedding? I'm so proud of you, babe.”

“I'm much more impressed by you remembering not to introduce yourself as the father of the bride, honestly.”

“Rude. I'm too young for my kids to get married.”

“Not too young for kids, though.”

“Nope. Just perfectly old for kids.”

🌼🌼🌼

iii.

“He'd be proud of you, you know?”

“Shut up. You can't make me cry before we even step outside.”

“I'm just fulfilling my father duties.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Fuck, the music. I am proud of your choice, but I'm still offended we're not walking to Never Gonna Give—Ouch, are you wearing platform boots?”

“Of course. A bride always needs a weapon.”

“Come on. Let's go before I start crying.”

“Sophie bet me a tenner that you'd cry before Baz.”

“Big mistake you made, my young Padawan.”

[redrobin-detective]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRuV3Khq/

Wayne Girls AU, that was Bruce with Rachel and Janis. Especially Rachel.

Grown man had to hype himself up when it was time to lay down the law. Couldn’t stand to have any of them be upset with him. Alfred had to stand guard to make sure he didn’t go back on any of his groundings.

Diana getting a crash course in Girl Dad™️ when Batman had to lecture Robin. The man was close to sobbing into his hands after Robin ran out of the room crying “You’re breaking my heart, Daddy.”

Diana: You’re the parent, is it not normal to discipline one’s child?

Bruce: You don’t understand, she’s mad at me. She won’t want to talk to me now.

Diana: I see, so men are the weaker parent.

Bruce taking Cosmetology classes when he first gets Rachel to make sure that he’s able to do her hair. Brucie Wayne might be a ditzy himbo but his little girls are gonna be rocking the cutest hairstyle anytime they leave the house. Braids, updos, ponytails, bows, clips and ribbons he has it all mastered.

Bruce buying those child alarms that are popular in Japan for all of his girls when they first start as Robin as a precaution. They all get a case of bedazzled pepper spray for a gift at least once.

Bruce having a slight fear of when the girls decide to band together for a common goal that’s not for the greater good. Either he’s gonna get played, someone will have their self esteem destroyed, half a city will be on fire, someone will get robbed, and/or all of the above.

Bruce joking that Carter is his favorite cause he finally has a bro to talk to in the house. But really it’s cause Carter won’t roast him as maniacally when he does or wears something corny.

While all the Robins are quick witted and can talk smack, Janis was the most vicious one. She never lets anyone get the first or final word, any kind of fight she made sure to win, always making sure no one saw any weakness. She was a literature/theater nerd she had a talent with prose and word play.

Though it was never directed at anyone she viewed as defenseless or vulnerable. She tried to be the symbol of strength and protection that Robin was to her.

Tabitha being the best liar of the whole family, cause that’s just how kids with strict parents grow up to be. Can and has gotten away with lying to Superman. Could probably get away with murder but won’t cause then she’ll let Rachel down. Struggles with living up to the image of being a “Good Girl” and her actual thoughts, wants, and needs. Janis jokes that Beth’s anxiety and people pleasing issues are the only things keeping her from taking over the world.

Rachel having conflicted feelings of being settling down and having a family. Not wanting to be tied down so soon but being worried she’ll miss her window. Unsure if she’ll be willing for perform any more emotional labor for more people especially since some days it seems like her sibling will always need her on speed dial. Flip flopping between adopting or wanting to experience pregnancy.

Dami growing up with love advice that basically sums up to “Communication is key” and “Dump him” but each sister was a different interpretation for each situation that she might as well just flip a coin. Janis, a true Jane Austen die hard, maintaining that romantic outlook for her Mister Darcy but is sadly less self reflective than Lizzie.

Alfred being worried that none of the girls will have a traditional wedding but still having a dream wedding journal for each one if the time ever came. He’d be a terrifying drill master to make sure the day went perfectly but it’s all with good intentions.

Bruce having no conscious desire for grandkids cause his babies should stay his babies. But once he gets that first grand baby it’s like he fell in love all over again. All his grandkids are his best friends and he’s their “Grand B/Paw Paw/Grandaddy.”

Sorry I've had this saved in my ask forever bc I keep rereading it because it's always so much Fun when someone engages with your dumb, indulgent AU.

Bruce is, at the same time, both a stricter but also more permissive parent with the girls. You're So Right that he hates when they're mad at him and dotes a bit more on them than he did with the boys. But at the same time he is bound and determined not to make a big deal of the fact that he has daughters, that they're just as capable as sons. He stood up so much for Rachel when she first started as Robin, justifying her skills and making sure no one thought less of her. For all the fights and struggles the kids have with B over the years, they never forget that he supports them 100% and never treats them as less.

I also love exploring the relationship each of the Robins has with their femininity. Rachel came to the Manor way more girly, she was used to parading around the circus in dresses and with pretty accessories. Growing up the adopted daughter of a wealthy billionaire, not to mention becoming the first young sidekick, not to mention female sidekick, made her dial back to be take seriously. Plus as she grew into a beauty it soon became uncomfortable at times to express herself that way. Janis was a Tomboy and saw it as a weakness which is just another point of contention when Beth comes in as (seemingly) a sweet princess. Beth was raised to be a pretty, thoughtless thing so her combining her rougher, more practical side with the fun frivolities of being feminine is about her claiming herself and not what others want to make of her. By the time Dami comes along, there's a whole spectrum and femininity around and she's able to decide what amount works for her.

Tabitha is the first to marry but Janis is the first to have (ie adopt) kids and Bruce, who was so stoic with his kids, just melts for his grandkids. He loves his daughters so much, respects them but also fears them bc of how capable they are a) as vigilantes and b) at manipulating the hell out of him. Beth will turn on her big sad eyes, Rachel will shyly twirl her hair, Dami will bite her lower lip and he will do Anything. The JLA makes fun of him but they're not much better when the Bats use their evil powers on them.