#she deserves nothing but the most lovely peaceful wedding day filled with joy

[dylanconrique]

if anybody on this goddamn show deserves to have a completely stress free wedding, where not one! single thing!! goes wrong!!!! it's tim and lucy.

[riseofamoonycake]

So fem reader doesn’t know she has the ability to bring hades and Poseidon back and one day while missing them she brings them back.

Fluff to nsfw

Sub reader

Poseidon and hades (seperetly )x fem reader

Reader is OP

Reader for posidon is his queen

Reader is for hades is also his queen

And here we gooo!

Power of Wish

🔷🤍 Pairing: Poseidon x Female!reader; Hades x Female!reader

🔷🤍 Warnings: mention of death, wounds, angst, sex (oral, squirting, masturbation, taking of virginity), kinks (size kink, breeding kink)

🔷🤍 Notes: the requester asked for a short female reader, with thick thighs, small breasts and visible body hair, high pain tolerance. The reader is consenting.

Poseidon

There are times when you wonder why you haven’t left yet. Why do you keep breathing, for what and for whom? No matter how strong and determined a heart is, it cannot last forever; and even if your powers make you capable of doing all that few, if any, can accomplish, nothing they could do in the face of the Death.

He is not here anymore. This palace resounds with his presence, every room still has his scent, but he is not by my side. It is just a shell with nothing left inside… like me.

Months have passed since Ragnarok and the disappearance of Poseidon, the king of your life and your only good, and you still persist in wandering the rooms like a soul that will never find peace. Your days fall apart like sand, slipping into the folds of silence and bitterness: you should have been a bride, the most precious treasure of the Tyrant of the Seas, and instead… instead, that white and blue dress that the most skilled hands have woven for you is relegated to the back of the closet, hidden from your eyes so as not to make you suffer, destined to be devoured by the time like any moment of joy that was yours.

You can still see him: standing on the door of the room you were supposed to share, his chin raised and the attitude of someone who knows how to command and never loses, Poseidon didn’t look at you ― he never did ―, but his hand stroked your head lightly, lingering on your hair. I’ll be back, he murmured to you in a breath, delicate as the waves when dawn comes, I’ll be back, and we’ll have what we deserve. Watch me win, Y/N.

And your king did not know, did not even imagine that there would never be a return; and you didn’t even imagine it, who for so long have followed and known him, accepting every side of him with an unparalleled love, blooming only for him like the anemones that you adore so much and that he didn’t fail to give you ― his way of telling you how much he cared about you.

«Lady Y/N!»

Here is what you want: just a moment, one more, with him. Rewinding time to feel his breath in the night, when the braziers went out one after the other and in the dark all desires woke up; bring him back to feel his hands caressing your legs and belly as if by accident, and whisper in your ear everything he was going to do to you on your wedding night. The womb of his little flower should have filled with a new life, you both wanted it so much; and it would be enough for you to have just a little minute… another day, another hour…

«Lady Y/N! Where are you? Come quickly!»

You jump when the voice finally manages to overcome your thoughts, and you turn questioningly: sound of running footsteps, murmurs and overlapping sentences, people all talking together, growing chaos… and finally, silence. Your skin shakes with shivers as you freeze: you know this absence of movement and sound, it is very different from the one that has enveloped you up to now…

That is what came with him. It is the calm that Poseidon brought everywhere.

«Lady Y/N…», someone sighs, near or far from you; but you can’t understand who it is and where, no, you can’t understand anything anymore, because a shadow and a shape twice as tall as you suddenly appear at the door of the room, so much so that it occupies the entire threshold, and everything else loses meaning and importance.

You widen your eyes, incredulous and out of breath, and raise your head to stare at who is in front of you; it is not possible… you can’t afford to hope like this, you can’t fool yourself. «My lord…», you still find yourself muttering in a low voice, a lump in your throat and too many tears stuck in your eyes, so much so that you struggle to see well; but you don’t need to do it to recognize the touch with which Poseidon grabs your chin and lifts it, preventing you from falling to your knees, and then bends over you. «It seems that your powers are even greater than what is believed», these are his words in a calm and not surprised tone, as if he were talking about things known to all, «do you know that it was you who brought me back from Niflhel?»

You keep your mouth open, but you cannot speak; not even to reach out to him, a single finger to touch him and make sure he is not a dream, an illusion or worse, an entity that has taken his form to deceive you and abuse your love. But this smell, this aura… no, it can only belong to him. To him who has come back for you, somehow pulled back by your longings… how powerful love really is, no one knows until moments like this come. «My lord…», you murmured again, this time with more decision and your voice broken by emotion, «I only hoped, and desired so much, and…»

«And now the queen wants to cry again?» In something Poseidon has changed compared to before: his skin gives off a more intense heat, his words are less neutral, and he looks at you. Oh yes, he stares at you for a long time, his expression serious but with flashes of the most diverse emotions in the eyes, which intensify when he takes a step forward and pushes you back further and further until your back touches the edge of the bed. You get on it without delay as soon as the god reaches you, then you let yourself be grabbed by the hips and dragged onto the blankets, completely subject to whatever desire he has for you: he could give you the most terrible tortures, and you would cry with joy, because the happiness and relief of having him here by your side could overcome all suffering. Barely holding back your tears, you sink into the arms that the king has opened wide for the first time, and you hug him so tightly that you could end up disappearing in his chest; and Poseidon totally welcomes you, forgetting his usual coldness and composure, burying his face in your hair and breathing heavily as he tightens your body, so small compared to his, even going so far as to cover your face with kisses. His hands run everywhere, caressing your waist and belly, gently enveloping and cradling you.

«Welcome back to me», you murmur while you can’t control your cries anymore, even if these are the last and then only smiles remain; in response, the Tyrant of the Seas closes your mouth with a kiss that tastes of ashes, salt and unsaid things, which however can now be proven, and waits in silence for you to calm down, just before the caresses go from being sweet to hotter.

You ask and want it first, as your fingers begin to slide over his chest and grip his hips as your mouth craves more and, in a fit of courage and reckless glee, the teeth dare to bite his lip; and Poseidon for an instant remains still, motionless, to then let a slight grin appear on his face and press you with all the weight against the mattress, underneath him.

Your person can only be bent by the more massive Tyrant of the Seas, who doesn’t even wait to undress you completely: the wedding has been postponed for too long, now it is time for both of you to take everything. It is therefore in complete silence that he lifts your skirt and loosens the bodice of the dress with a tug, putting all the laces to the test to free the small breasts that are only waiting for his kisses and bites; and it is with determination that the god grabs your thick thighs, sinking his nails into them and shaking them to feel your soft flesh yielding under his grip. As well as you know how to tolerate pain, your sensitivity is very high and part of it comes together with the pleasure and elicit moans, sighs and pants from you, completely abandoned to him and his will.

«So small, yet so strong and fertile…»

You moan louder and squirm when you hear him squeeze your belly until he leave fingerprints; and immediately after you hold your breath, noticing how his sea-colored eyes are descending towards the folds that not even the underwear covers anymore, to then be followed by his whole person.

Your body is now his personal possession and instrument of amusement: and you let him act freely, trying to control the arousement while you see and feel him kissing your pubis and running his fingers through the hair that covers it, and then reserving the same treatment to your already dripping opening, repeatedly penetrating you with his tongue and exploring you deeply with the intention of driving you crazy, biting and lingering on the folds and covering their entire length with slow, expert licks. All of this can’t be just a dream, the tremors you feel and the sensations you feel while you jerk, squeeze your fingers around the sheets until you tear them and you are not ashamed to scream for your lord are enough to destroy the last doubts you had: your body responds in an equally true way, making your skin a chaotic triumph of redness and sweat and fluids that Poseidon welcomes without getting upset, not even when you cum on his face. However, this will have a price to pay: and you already know what it will be when you see his eyes re-emerge from your legs and he stands towering over you with his entire torso, trapping your thighs in an iron grip as he opens them without too much delicacy. «Time to show how much you missed me», his voice murmurs as he settles better against your intimacy and you clearly feel his member rubbing against it. His gaze, now dark as the sea lashed by storms, does not allow you to escape him: he devours you more than his mouth did, and responds to your shivers of excitement with a slight smile of satisfaction. «Now, girl, be ready for me.»

The little light that still reigned in the room goes out as soon as the god enters in you with a decisive push, and night itself descends to protect your encounter.

Hades

In Helheim there aren’t those clouds that you love to chase so much, and not even a blue sky under which to lie down and contemplate the beauty of the mornings that flee towards the evening and then return, without thinking of anything; however, some rooms of Hades’ palace have ceilings that resemble both, and in the end you always feel at home there too.

Or rather, you felt.

Following the king’s death, you repeatedly asked the servants to cover all the mirrors in the house; but no one has ever really listened to you, and those shiny surfaces continue to reflect your sleepless eyes swollen with regrets, merciless as needles that slip into open wounds and dig in search of the heart. And they call, those damned: they invite you to observe yourself inside their silver frames, to remember what happened the times when Hades brought you in front of one of them and slowly undressed you, keeping you pressed against him while he took everything off you, veil after veil, and his gaze didn’t let any inch of your body escape.

At this point your memories have a sigh: because more than once those mirrors have seen Hades inviting you to lie down in front of them, on the soft and refined carpets scattered everywhere, then climb onto you and close his fingers or mouth around your small breasts to cover them with kisses and caresses, to suck, bite and venerate them, and then do the same with your belly and your plush thighs, treating you as only a queen deserves. You won’t leave anything to consume for the wedding!, you laughed as you watched the king squeeze your soft flesh or deprive you of even the garments that protected your intimacy and his nails gently scratched your pubis, sinking into the hair that covered it and twisting his fingers around the curls on purpose to tease you.

He never failed to smile at you, and then wet his lips and narrow his gray eyes as he gave a light, long kiss on your folds, but without proceeding further. Don’t worry, we’ll leave the best for when that day comes, he whispered every time, calm and reassuring, making you laugh with joy. The god was always like this: sweet, caring and kind, careful that you didn’t suffer anything or have any worries, always ready to pamper you for any reason. From the moment he met you and fell in love with you, bringing you to Helheim with the clear intention of making you his queen, he never failed to make you feel his protection and adoration: his hand was always ready to guide and warm you when you needed it, his words to dialogue with yours to make your ideas, dreams and desires mature, and his smile to encourage you when you didn’t believe in yourself enough. That smile, and the way he narrowed his eyes when he looked at you and you could feel his boundless love reaching you, the respect and admiration he had for you, that is what you miss most about him: his presence alone lit up the albeit dark days in this place, together with the certainty of an entire existence to spend by his side, without major worries or pain.

Tonight, the mirrors call louder than usual: and you can’t resist them. No, you have to lie down in front of them, and breathe deeply like Hades whispered to you to do when you were too tense: and leave everything to memory, to illusion and to dreams that went to ashes together with him. In these lives everything, every beat of your heart, every story that your mind creates so as not to think about the emptiness that he has left behind.

Your enormous powers help you to make what you imagine even more truthful: so it is not your fingers that unfasten the ribbons of the bodice to caress and grip your breasts with force, nor that they slide under your underwear to slip into your opening and start giving you pleasure with energy, almost reaching the most atrocious pain ― if you didn’t have such a pain high tolerance and a powerful desperation that you didn’t feel anything. In your imagination, Hades realizes with you what he didn’t have time to do: and you really feel his tongue inside you, all aimed at sucking, licking, immersing himself in your fluids and testing you to give you all the pleasure you can bear; his hands hold you firmly so that you cannot escape your fate, while his eyes sparkle to see your body, so small compared to his ― you know that he has chosen you for this too: to be able to hold you and make you almost disappear inside himself, to dominate you completely, albeit with extreme sweetness ―, which trembles and jolts while being subjected to the most sensual torments. It is in your dreams that finally, after having tasted you well and having made your personal flavor known to you by covering your face with kisses, he repeatedly penetrates you, driving you to madness and smiling with the bliss with which you welcome him inside you, aware of not being happier than that. You will never be able to have the daughter Hades continually spoke of, caressing your belly with the rapt gaze of one who already sees the future ahead of him and can’t wait to see it come true; and no one will ever take your virginity, only yourself… but that is good, if the illusion can save you a little from reality and prevent your heart from cracking and falling apart like forgotten glassware.

«Y/N?»

Even the whole palace seems to sigh with you, and is filled with hums and muffled invocations; the soul of your desire invades everything it can touch, and…

But is it just that? Is it only desire, and not reality?

The awareness of something else causes your eyes to suddenly widen, pulling your ghosts’ hands away from your flesh, making you sit up on the carpets: no, it was not your creation, indeed in the corridors and between the rooms there are voices of all kinds, and Helheim is in chaos. Something that shouldn’t have happened, which in theory had never been seen to happen, is taking shape in the palace; yet, there is no sadness in the murmurs that chase each other, the sobs and the name that is invoked until it sounds like an ovation ― Hades, Great Hades, Lord of us all.

Instantly your mouth dries up and you remain listening: sound of approaching footsteps, known, familiar and loved scent, and the heart that fears to hope so much. Have you performed your greatest miracle? One minute, two, three: in a few moments you will discover the truth, and whether it will be simple melancholy, or the return of love.

[bradshawsbaby]

The Proposal

Pairing: Rooster x Girlfriend!Reader

Author’s Note: This one was requested by @raefoxiegirl​! It will soon be followed by the wedding headcanon requested by @mercury-mae​!

I’m extra proud of this one, so I’d love to know what people think through comments/reblogs!

Warnings: Mostly a lot of fluff, but also some angst that comes with parental illness and loss.

- Rooster had known almost from the very start of your relationship that you were the one. You were the only woman for him, the woman his mom had always told him to hold out and wait for.

- The thought of getting to call you his wife and, hopefully one day, the mother of his children filled Rooster with the most indescribable joy and also the most calming peace. That’s how he knew you were his forever.

- “There won’t be any fear at all when you find the right girl, honey,” his mom had often said. “That’s how you’ll know it’s her.” She’d always grabbed his face with affection and pressed a big kiss to his cheek whenever she said that. “And hearts will break all over the world when my handsome Bradley gets taken off the market.”

- Rooster had enlisted Phoenix’s help before purchasing the ring.  Thankfully, the two of you were close friends so it was easy for her to spend time with you.

- “You’re lucky that we just so happen to be the same ring size,” Phoenix grinned, reporting back to him after she had casually asked to borrow some of your jewelry.

- The ring Rooster ended up picking out was a gorgeous vintage piece, which he knew you would love. It featured a large pear-shaped diamond, encircled by several smaller diamonds which sparkled beautifully in the light. It was perfect, just like you.

- Carole had wanted to give Rooster her engagement ring, as well as her wedding band, but he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of her being parted from them. His whole life long, he had never once seen his mother take those rings off. They’d been a lifelong sign of her love and commitment to his father, even years after his death.

- “Mom, I can’t take them from you,” he’d told her tearfully, holding her hand tightly as she lay in her bed, propped up with pillows and weak from the cancer that had taken her from him. “Dad got them for you. He wanted you to have them. They’re yours,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

- “My sweet baby,” Carole whispered, reaching out to cup his face. It had broken her heart that she wouldn’t get to see the man her son would become, the woman he would marry, the family he would build, the life he would lead.

- A month later, Rooster had buried his mother, the rings that belonged only to her still firmly on her finger. He knew it was the right decision. And as much as he missed his mother, he knew she was happy to be singing and laughing with his dad once again.

- Rooster hoped that you would cherish the ring he had picked out for you just as much as his mom had cherished the rings Goose had chosen for her.

- After he had the ring, Rooster decided he wanted to get your family’s blessing. Your father had abandoned your mother, brother, and you when you were just a kid, so you didn’t have a relationship with him. But Rooster knew how much your mom and brother meant to you. They had moved to Florida, which was perfect since there were a number of naval air bases out there. It gave him a great cover for why he had to travel.

- Rooster had only met your family in person a few times, but they adored him and couldn’t have been happier to give their blessing for his proposal. “She’s going to say yes,” your mom had assured him with a wink and a smile that reminded him so much of you.

- With the ring and the blessing secured, the only thing left for Rooster to do was to plan the actual proposal itself. He racked his brain, trying to come up with something that would be creative and special, but also meaningful and intimate. You deserved nothing but the absolute best in his eyes.

- Ultimately, Rooster decided he wanted to propose at The Hard Deck. It was the place where the two of you had first met and a place that held a lot of special moments and memories for you both.

- To pull it off, Rooster enlisted everybody’s help. Penny agreed to close the bar for the night, claiming maintenance work needed to be done, so that they could have the space to themselves. Maverick, Amelia, Phoenix, and Bob helped decorate the bar with flower petals and candles. Hangman and Coyote went to pick up the champagne you loved from a winery you and Rooster had gone to. Payback and Fanboy set up the speaker system and connected the playlist you had once made for the two of you.

- The night of, Rooster told you that he was taking you out for a fancy dinner, so you had gotten dressed to the nines. You went all out with your hair and make-up, glad that you’d just recently gotten a new manicure. Feeling particularly bold, you even wore the new lingerie set you had recently purchased while on a shopping trip with Phoenix and some of your other girlfriends.

- Rooster’s eyes had nearly bugged out of his head when he saw you. Whistling, he took your hand and twirled you around slowly, admiring the view. “Baby girl, you are a wonder,” he told you, kissing you softly.

- “Don’t mess up my lipstick before we even get out the door,” you teased, nudging him playfully as you grabbed your purse. “What restaurant is it we’re going to again?”

- “Some new one downtown. Hangman said it was good,” Rooster replied casually, shrugging his shoulders. He hoped he didn’t appear as jittery as he felt. He wanted tonight to go perfectly. “Don’t kill me though. We have to make a quick stop at The Hard Deck first.”

- “Everything okay? Penny said she had to close tonight for some maintenance work,” you replied, slipping your hand into his as he led you to his truck and opened the door for you, helping you up.

- “Yeah, she just needs my help with something really quick,” Rooster nodded, hopping into his truck and driving the short distance from your apartment to The Hard Deck. “Come with me, baby. Penny would love to see you, and she’ll pour you a drink while you wait,” he grinned, helping you climb back down out of the truck.

- “It looks kind of dark in there. Is everything okay with the power?” you asked in concern as the two of you approached the entrance to the bar.

- “Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it. I got you,” Rooster winked, squeezing your hand as he led you inside.

- You gasped at what you found. The entire bar and most of the surrounding tables had been covered in yellow rose petals (yellow roses were your favorite) and soft, flickering candles. As soon as you stepped inside, you heard the opening strains of Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight.” It was one of your favorite songs, and the first song you and Rooster had ever slow danced to.

- “Babe, what is—”

- Before you could say anything else, Rooster was stopping you in the middle of the room and dropping down to one knee before you, which made your heart rate accelerate immediately as you covered your shocked face with both hands.

- “Baby,” Rooster began, reaching up to take one of your hands and tug it away from your face. You already felt yourself starting to cry. “I love you so much. So, so much,” he said, squeezing your hand gently as he gazed up at you with adoration brimming in his eyes. “From the moment you came into my life, it’s only gotten better. You are the very best part of me.” 

- You were definitely crying now, tears streaming down your cheeks despite your best attempts to stop them.

- “I–I’ve been so lonely for so long. But with you, I know I’m never alone. You make every day so special, baby. My mom—” You could tell he was getting choked up when he mentioned his mother. “My mom always used to tell me that when I met the right girl, I would know she was the one because I wouldn’t be afraid. I wouldn’t be afraid to commit to her and want to spend the rest of my life with her. That’s how my dad knew my mom was the one. And it’s how I know you’re the one for me. Baby, I don’t want to live a minute in this life without you. Will you marry me?” he asked, opening a black velvet box to reveal the most breathtakingly exquisite ring you had ever seen.

- “Oh, God, baby,” you cried, hoping you hadn’t completely destroyed your make-up, but grateful that the man before you wouldn’t care if you had. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes!” you exclaimed, your hand trembling with excitement as Rooster slipped the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.

- As soon as it was on, Rooster rose and took you into his arms, swinging you around as you kissed him hungrily. “I love you! God, I love you,” you whispered against his lips, while his fingers ran through your hair.

- “I love you, too, baby girl,” Rooster murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you close.

- At that moment, unable to contain their excitement any longer, everyone came rushing out of their hiding places, cheering and screaming and covering the two of you in confetti.

- After getting repeatedly hugged and kissed, and sharing a champagne toast with all your friends, you and Rooster managed to slip out onto the beach while everyone else kept celebrating inside.

- “I’ve never been happier in my life,” you told him, gazing up at him as he slipped an arm around your waist. “I can’t wait to call you my husband.”

- “And I can’t wait to call you my wife,” Rooster replied, taking your hand in his and holding you close as the two of you began to sway to the music that was softly trickling out of The Hard Deck.

- Rooster knew that his parents were looking down tonight and that they were smiling.

[kirishoshego]

Listen before I go//Bakugou

Summary: Things won’t always go your way, but what if the person you love the most has to watch you take your final breaths? Note: I fucking cried at the end myself, be prepared for lots of sad emotions! I’m sorry in advance!

TW: This is a fic filled with ANGST, DC; the reader is going to die and also mention of depression and all that, so please read at your own risk

inspiration: Billie Eilish: Listen before I go

You didn’t really know when it started. Was it the bullying? The fact neither one of your parents cared about the fact you’re drowning? You don’t remember, really. But depression has been your “friend” for a long time. 

But you do remember when it stopped. You moved, away from the memories, away from the people and started over again. Created a new you, a you you could get along with, a you someone fell in love with. Bakugou and you met at your job at the café, you made his hot cocoa after a rather cold day. Because of said weather you didn’t really had any costumers and he enjoyed the warmth of the shop (and your company, which he would tell you later when you’re wrapped up in his arms). He introduced you to his friends and they became your friends within a few days. They where shocked to see Bakugou with a SPARKLE in his eyes whenever you were there or mentioned. Kirishima knew he was hooked, enjoying his best friend turning (slightly, we’re still talking about Bakugou) softer. You were one of the few people who knew how to handle him, biting back and letting him be when he needed to let it all go. You were the one person for him where he could let go, who showed him what love is like, slowly letting go of his abusive past. You were his home and he was yours. 

You got out of your shelf more, finally having enough strength to fulfill your wish to study. And you loved it, the first two years went so well.Your grades where amazing and because you moved in with him, you could drop out of your work and concentrate on school. Bakugou and you were so in love, planing your wedding, maybe starting a family once you’re done with your University. Being hero #1 suddenly didn’t seem so important for him.  That changed almost a year ago. Midoriya was almost on top. Hawks was now #1, Midoriya close #2. How could he let that happen? Stupid Deku is now two places in front of him, he had to train more again, train harder. Spend less time with you and save more life, he was a hero after all. When he wasn’t at work, he worked out, he came home late most of the time and because University took a turn you could’t stay up so long anymore. Couldn't keep waiting for a two minutes conversation about how amazing his work as a hero is. How amazing he is and how he will beat Izuku in no time. You tried to stay above it, really you did. You stopped talking to your friends so you can focus more on school, they came around a few times but you told them things where fine and you just need some time to focus, you will let them know when you have time and when you need help. But at night your old enemy would creep up again. You tried shutting them out at first. You got this, you just need a bit more time. But then your grades came back. C-, D. Trying to hide it from Bakugou didn’t work, he had caught you crying in the shower one night when he came home early after Mina called him with worry laced in her voice.  “She looked so pale Bakugou, so tired and thin. We’re worried about her but we can’t reach her, she’s shutting us out,”  He left the gym immediately and bought your favorite take out and planned a movie night just for the two of you. He even got you your favorite flowers. And for a few weeks he was there again, he cared again and he saw you did better, you even went out with Mina and Kirishima once who invited you for a karaoke night, Bakugou joined you later and you enjoyed ever second of it. But it didn’t last long, Bakugou had to put his head back to Hero work. “When I’m on top, I will have all the time for you, I will take you on vacation and we can finally pay for our wedding,” he would tell you. But you didn’t want to go on luxurious vacations or expensive dates or dresses. You wanted Bakugou again. Your pleas fell to deaf ears, sometimes he would loose his temper, yell at you and get angry for not supporting his life long dream.  “Of course you’re all that matter to me!” he would yell when you would tell him you missed him and feel less important to him. His actions showed you different. Don't say I'm all that matters Leave me Deja vu So you stopped asking for his time, stopped waisting it or the time of your friends. You can be alone, you know the feeling. And you stopped shutting those voices out, craving the familiar feeling of having company. You knew it was wrong at you tried putting up a fight, but you were so, so tired. So alone.  “Maybe its because you gained weight? Stress eating doesn’t look too well on you you know?” the voice was worried, pointing at your belly.  “That’s why he doesn’t touch you anymore, or maybe he has someone better, it’s not hard,” you dismissed the voice, telling it, it was just the stress. “If he would care about you, he would work less. Look at you, such a mess! If I was him I would try to do as much outside as I can,” you looked into the mirror and the voices where right, you did look so done. No colour in your face like there used to be, your skin dull, just like your eyes. And your hair was a mess as well. You haven’t showered for a while, you just couldn’t. You stopped working on your school tasks.  “You’re going to fail anyways, why even try? You are stupid, pitiful and useless,” everything Bakugou isn't, something Bakugou didn’t deserved as a partner. He deserved better. You knew those voices, knew they were right, right? They knew you better than anyone, they knew you better than you knew yourself.  But now, after a year, a new voices creeped up from somewhere dark.  “He wouldn’t care if you would be gone, you know? It would make it so much easier for him to become Hero #1. You are holding him back, your friends too. You’re such a burden to them, always checking up on you. They could use their time so much better, than this. At first you ignored this voice. You didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave him. You wanted to be by his side, wanted to be his wife. But the more he was away, the easier the voices could haunt you.  Until it was too much. They won. You had two more weeks left. Two more weeks to say good bye, two more weeks until you will feel at peace again, until the voices will be quiet. Two more weeks until Bakugou had nothing holding him back.  You could take a shower again, could go get your hair done, eat again. Mina was so excited for the two of you to meet up again, she didn’t had much time and apologized for it, telling you about her plans to move into a bigger apartment with Momo and Kyouka, how stressful it is next to hero work.  “Don’t worry about it Mina! I know how busy your life can be, you’re always such an amazing friend to me, I love spending time with you and being able to laugh until I cry,” you had told her. She wasn’t supposed to blame herself, it wasn’t her fault.  “Before you go, I really wanted to gift you something! It’s really small but when I saw it I just knew I had to get it for you,” you explained to her, wrapping a bracelet around her wrist. She thanked you, tell you she loved you and how pretty it was. Kirishima came to your place by surprise. At first he told you that he didn’t had time, trying to keep up with Bakugou, but when he looked at your tired face something told him that that wasn’t as important right now. He brought you a hot drink and took you out for a walk. For once your eyes sparkled again, the snow covered nature filling your heart with joy. The world was so peaceful for a while. Kirishima told you about his girlfriend’s pregnancy, showed you the first pictures. He told he was secretly hoping for a girl. You spend a few hours with him, until you couldn’t feel your hands anymore and he had to go to the doctors with his girlfriend to check up on the baby again. You called his name after he went to leave your doorstep. When he turned around, you hugged him tightly.  “Thank you for today Kiri, this means more to me than you’ll know,” you whispered.  “Anytime Y/N,” Kiri’s voices was so warm and you knew he meant it. Bakugou wouldn’t be home the next three hours. You had enough time for your letter to Bakugou. You tried putting it off, trying to escape reality as long as possible. But now you could’t anymore. Two weeks were over. Your hand was shaking, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes, but you had to do this, had to give him closure. You didn’t want anyone to blame themselves. It wasn’t their fault. You weren’t sorry, this is what you wanted, you were too deep down, too far, too weak. And for once you wanted something to success, wanted to feel at complete control over your life. 

My love,  when you’re reading this I will no longer be with you, no longer around to hold you back. I went to my favorite spot, to enjoy the view one last time. I wish I could enjoy it with you, but that’s a selfish thought.  I love you, I always have from day one and always will.  Remember the first day you came into my shop? I remember feeling the butterflies erupt in my belly when I saw you for the first time three years ago. Your rambling about how stupid extras can be and the way you almost spilled your drink all over yourself while using your arms to put more emphasis in your sentences. I knew I was falling for you right then and there. I still remember the day you asked me to be your wife. You were pissed at how nothing was working out the way you wanted it, that they messed up your order at the flower shop or that you burned the food because we were so occupied with each other, so lost in our love. (I still remember the bruises I had even three days later, god, you always knew what you did). And the fact you had to drive me to the hospital because I cut myself open with the knife. And there you were in the room with me, my clothes sprinkled with blood and feeling dizzy from losing so much, on your knees. You yelled at me for being so clumsy, but I saw the tears in your eyes you held back so much. And then you pulled out the ring with a shaking hand. “Damnit shitty woman! I planned this whole day and you had to get yourself injured. Why are you always so clumsy?! I have to wrap you up in foil, I can’t let anything happen to you,” curses spilled out of your mouth and I just had to laugh until my stomach hurts. I love you so much. And then you asked me and I felt everything turn brighter, warmer, more colourful. You always made me feel so happy. The way you would fall asleep when I read you a story, how your arms always found your way around my waist even when you slept or the gentle kiss on my forehead whenever you had to leave for work.  Remember the time everyone was here? It was Christmas and you cooked such a tasty meal, you really were a master chef. Kirishima dropped the potatoes and you were so angry at him, running after him and setting small explosions off, making him stumble and fall head first into our pond. He was freezing and even though you told him off and said it was karma you still made sure he took a hot shower and his towel was heated. Or how you had to carry Mira back to our apartment because she was so drunk, complaining about how careless she is and you’re not her personal taxi. You still made sure she had a glass of water and pill next to her for when she woke up, telling Denki to shut up because she will have a head ache. Or remember the last time you bought me flowers? You bought the biggest bunch of flowers I ever saw, it was probably three times my head. They smelled so lovely. But not as lovely as you. I always enjoyed the lazy days with you the most. How warm you were, how you always smell like caramel, not the deodorant you always put on before leaving me. How you would play with my hair for hours, whisper sweet nothings in my ear. You gave me a home, a family, all I could have asked for. Thank you for that Bakugou Katsuki.  I want you to know that I made this decision a while ago. This was not just a rushed thought in the moment. I want this. I can’t keep trying anymore. There is nothing for me left. I fought against it for so long, telling myself things will be okay again, telling myself we will be okay again. But to be honest I stopped believing this a long time ago. I'm not okay, I feel so scattered I’m so proud of you, of what you have accomplished and without me holding you back you will finally be Hero #1. I just know it! I believe in you, you really put in everything in it. I will be watching you from up above if something like heaven exists. Please let me go and don’t beat yourself up, okay? I want this and there is nothing you could have done to make me feel better. There is no way out.  Call my friends and tell them that I love them and I'll miss them. Always in love, your Y/N

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling now, this really is it. And you felt at peace, you felt calm, you felt happy.  The pills stood next to you already and you knew once you swallowed them you will have fifteen minutes until you’ll fall asleep and your heart will stop. It will all stop. You wore your favorite dress, the one you always wanted an occasion for but just never found it. Know you knew, it fitted perfectly. You took a deep breath and poured the pills into your hand. Next to you stood your favorite drink that you wanted to enjoy one last time. You kissed Bakugou’s letter and started taking the pills. He wouldn’t be home for another hour so you had enough time. Suddenly your phone binged. Kirishima.  “Hey! Amazing news, we will have twins! So far it seems like a girl and a boy, isn’t that cool? I’m so excited, hope to see you again soon, love you lots x Kiri!” You smiled. His wish came true, you were so happy for him. You called him but he didn’t pick up, probably spending his time with his girlfriend now. Should you leave him a voice mail? Before you could overthink it your mouth started moving.  “Hey Kiri! It’s me Y/N. Obviously... Uhm, I just wanted to let you know I’m so happy for the both of you! Or well, four of you now! You will be an amazing father, I know it. And have amazing and beautiful little babies run around. You’re almost 7 foot tall, Pro Hero #5, nobody will mess with these babies. You are so gentle and loving, warm and caring. You’ll be the best dad anyone could ever ask for. I’m so proud of you. Greet everyone, I love you too!” it cut off right there and you were glad because you couldn’t keep your voice strong anymore.  Twelve more minutes. You signed and looked at your apartment one last time. You cleaned it before, you didn’t want Bakugou to deal with this mess. You opened your apartment door to make your way all the way up to the garden. Nobody goes up there in the winter, it was too cold for them and parents feared their children will drop from the roof. The pills started to show their effect, you felt tired slowly, your body getting weaker the more you try to walk up stairs. just a few more steps you could it.  “Woah Kiri, that's awesome! Two babies, I hope they aren’t as annoying as you are... I’m just kidding! Just kidding! I can’t wait for ours to run around too, time flies by, huh?” No it can't be! Why is he here already? This can’t be happening, no, no, no. Your legs grew weak and you felt yourself slowly falling to the floor. No, you don’t want to leave here, you want to the roof top, this can’t be happening.  “Hey Kiri, I will call you back okay? Something isn’t right,” you could hear the worry in his voice, could picture the way his eyebrows furrowed together. You left the door open. Ten more minutes. 

Heavy footsteps run up the stairs until his eyes landed an the fabric of your dress. He appeared right in front of you, tears streaming down his face when his eyes landed on your fragile body.  “Please... Please don’t leave me Y/N,” his voice was weak, broken.  “You weren’t supposed to find me, you weren’t supposed to be home for almost another hour,” you very shocked at how thin your own voice was, so timid.  “I came home a bit earlier cause I wanted to make dinner for us, spend the evening together, the sun will set-”  “In 3 minutes I know, I wanted to see it one last time,” you explained to him, your eyes looking up at the dark ceiling.  “It’s not too late, I can save you, I’m a hero, I can- I have to, I just, no, no, no. How could I let this happen? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please let me save you,” he was begging now, praying to whoever will listen. He picked you up bridle style.  “That’s not how I imagined my first time bridal style,” you joked weakly. But he didn’t listen. He wanted to save you. But before he could move you put your cold hand onto his cheek. It was wet and warm.  “Don’t, there is no use,” he knew. He knew as soon as his hands landed on the empty pill bottle. But he was hoping it wasn’t to late, that you haven’t taken them. He didn’t want his worst fear to come true, but here you were, in his arms. The arms he saved so many lives with, just not the one that matters the most to him.  “This can’t be it,” he hugged you tightly, letting his emotions out.  “Take me to the rooftop, I wanna see the world when I stop breathing, turning blue,” you whispered into his ear.  He couldn’t bring himself to not do it. He knew he couldn’t stop from what was about to happen, but he didn’t want your last moments to be on this godforsaken staircase. 

So he took you there, each step he took heavy, dreadful, broken. As the door opens you could finally breath again. Finally you felt peaceful and completely happy. He sat down on the bench, dismissing the snow drenching his jeans within seconds.  The sun started setting and you had the most beautiful view in front of you. “I love you,” you whispered while you both looked into each others eyes for one last time. “I love you too, so much. And I know sorry won’t save you know but I should have listened more, should have been more observant, I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you deserved by your side. You matter more than anything in the world to me. I love you misses Y/N Bakugou,” he kissed your cheek and could taste the salty tears on your cheeks.  “It’s not your fault love, it was inevitable. I was sick long before I met you. You gave me the best three years of my life. I don’t blame you and please don’t do it either. It’s just my time to go now, there is no place here for me anymore, nothing holding me here. I’m finally happy again now. I want you to fulfill your dreams and become hero #1, I love you Mister Katsuki Bakugou,” you voice wasn’t more than a whisper, he could barely hear you, but he tried so hard.  You looked at the sunset one more time, taking it all in one more time. The fresh air mixed with a hint of caramel. The quiet whimpers of the love of your life. You looked at him with a smile on your face. Taking in your last breath you kissed him, with all the love you ever felt for him, with all the love you wish you could have still gifted him.  And then you went limp. He didn’t want the kiss the stop, wanted to repeat the last minute over and over again. Bakugou hugged you so tightly he was afraid to break your bones, but he couldn’t stop it. He cried into the crotch of your neck, the sun long gone before he could muster to look into you face again.  “You were my dream,” he whispered, stroking your face gently before screaming into the night. ©Kirishoshego NOTE: Please know that suicide is NOT the only option. Someone close to me took his life a long time ago and let me tell you, people care, people love you for who you are and you’re amazing. You matter and you can do so much more than you think. If you ever feel like giving up please talk to someone, you can always come to me, I will see your messages and I will care and listen!

[bopbopstyles]

ROSE COLORED GLASSES: By Your Side (an extra)

SERIES RATING: R (cursing, smoking, alcohol use, violence, PTSD, and sex)

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

CATEGORIES: boxer!Harry, gang/mob!Harry, 1920s!Harry, Peaky Blinders!Harry (?)

As the daughter of the most powerful man in Birmingham, there were expectations of Cicely King: an advantageous marriage to save her father’s business, for one. But Cicely had never been one to follow orders. So when she woke up after an accident in the home of Harry Styles, the illusive boxer, she took it as an opportunity to escape her life. What she didn’t intend on was falling in love with him.

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: hello i am back with more RCG, my children, my loves, my everythings. i got a request for a wedding blurb and these two immediately came to mind. enjoy peak softness, some smut, and just general big RCG energy. this is an extra, set months after the end of part two. enjoy some Hicely and come talk to me in my inbox about them!

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕✨

Harry could hardly hold it together.

The church pews in front of him were full with their neighbors and a few people from Cicely’s life before they had met, but by and large it was the people they had met since she had found him. Wide-brimmed hats and plenty of color, everyone in their Sunday best for a wedding between the infamous Harry Styles and his beloved Cicely. But it wasn’t the people that had Harry’s heart pounding.

It was the fact that he was about to marry the love of his life.

Harry had never really believed in fate—not after he had lost so many people, after he had been dealt bout after bout of pain. But then he found Cicely on a road in the middle of a thunderstorm and fell in love, and suddenly fate was the only thing that could’ve possibly explained it. How he had fallen in love in a matter of days, how he had let her in as he had never let anyone in before, how she matched his every trait and complemented him perfectly. Soothed him in his darkest moments, challenged him when he deserved it, pushed him when he needed it, and loved him every second of every day. Walking out of the ring and into her arms was a kind of peace he had never known; waking up to her body curved against his quieted his mind in the ways he never knew he needed.

And now she was about to be his for the rest of time.

He shifted from foot to foot, wiping his sweaty palms on the heavy material of his black suit jacket. Josiah had bought it for him—claimed it was his wedding gift to the couple, making sure Harry had a nice suit. It was the nicest piece of clothing he owned, tailored to perfectly fit the cut of his body and one look at it showed how expensive it was.

Frankly, he felt uncomfortable in it.

“Harry.” He turned his head to where Jack stood, his best man, flanked by Josiah and Tommy. “Stop worrying, you look like you don’t want to be here.”

“I just hate fuckin’ waiting,” Harry said under his breath. “Didn’t think I’d have to stand up here with all these people starin’ at me.”

Jack gave him a look of sympathy and understanding. “She’ll be here soon.”

As if right on cue, the music started up, the church organist playing from their corner as they did every Sunday. Except this time, it was for Harry and Cicely. Then, the doors to the room pushed open, and Harry felt his breath catch, the rays of the Saturday afternoon light streaming in the stained glass windows as Pippa stepped into the chapel, tossing rose petals onto the aisle way. It had been one of Cicely’s few requests for the wedding—that Pippa be their flower girl and Clarence their ring bearer, her affection for the neighbor children evident.

The little girl walked down the aisle grinning ear to ear as she dropped petals on a slow interval, soft coos from the audience at the sight of her pale purple dress that Josiah had purchased for her, wanting her to have a nice new dress for the wedding of his close friend. Behind her entered Clarence in a suit that was slightly too big on him, but held room to be grown into, also a gift from Josiah. His eyes were on the floor in front of him, as if he was nervous that he was going to trip on the tile.

Finally, the love of Harry’s life entered the room in a cloud of white and sunshine.

Her white satin dress glinted under the mid-afternoon rays, the floor-length material gathered at her side, a dip at the neckline that hinted at the cleavage Harry had run his fingers along the outline of only the previous day. A white cap sat on her head, the perfectly curled curves of her blond hair peeking out from underneath, and a long white see-through and embroidered train falling to the ground as she moved towards her. Long sleeves gathered at her wrists, where her dainty hands held a large bouquet of flowers, ones picked out by her mother, who stood at Cicely’s side.

In the months since Cicely had returned to Harry, she and her father hadn’t reconciled, but she had faithfully sent letters to her mother to keep her updated on her life. She had sent her an announcement for the wedding and her mother had replied saying she would attend, and asked to help plan. Through the process, she had demonstrated how much she loved her daughter, and when Cicely asked her to walk her down the aisle in the place of William, her mother cried. Now, she stood next to her daughter in a deep purple dress, a smile of joy and pride on her face as she guided Cicely down the aisle towards Harry.

Harry didn’t know if he had every seen someone more breath-taking than Cicely in this moment.

Well, she always took his breath away, but her she was in her wedding dress walking towards him with that wide smile that was reserved only for him, her brown eyes glowing with joy under the bright light of the room. His eyes trailed down her figure, taking in the sight of her and memorizing every curve of the material and the sight in front of him because he never wanted to forget what she looked like on the day she married him.

To even have a woman as magnificent as she was marrying him felt like his life’s work accomplished. He could never be more proud than he was to be her husband, because there was not a single title that meant more to him. No matter how many matches he won, nothing could ever top marrying her. Despite the fact that a year ago he hadn’t even known her, it felt as if he had been waiting for this moment for his entire life.

And now that it was here Harry couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Cicely King walking up an aisle to become his for the rest of time.

Distantly, he heard the organ playing in the background as she reached the front of the chapel, her mother helping her adjust her veil around her. Her hands were covered in silk white gloves that when up her forearms, and then she finally stood within arm’s reach, he couldn’t resist immediately grabbing hold of them, desperate to touch her even if it was through fabric. She was beaming at him, and when her thumb brushed over his knuckles, his heart clenched. He couldn’t find the words to describe this moment, the sight of her in front of him, about to marry him.

But then he did. He found the words when he repeated his vows, his gaze never breaking hers. “I, Harry Styles, take thee, Cicely King, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold,” the word wife falling off his tongue like butter, a term meant to be there. “From this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge myself to you.”

He saw the tears at the corner of her eyes and admittedly, there were a few in his as well. He wondered if she could feel the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he said the words, his voice cracking a bit as he said “I pledge myself to you.” They had been able to choose between pledging their faiths to one another and pledging themselves to one another, and for Harry it was an easy choice.

She was his life. There was nothing else in the world he was loyal too besides her. The church, the country, the King, not even Josiah—none of them were more worthy of his life than she was.

The chapel was quiet when Cicely began to speak, the sound of her soft and loving tone filling his body as she recited her vows. “I, Cicely King, take thee, Harry Styles, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge myself to you.”

Her blog hair curled into her face and Harry resisted the urge to reach up and push it behind her ear, the light blush on her cheeks making him break into an even wider smile. He didn’t think he had ever smiled this much—he didn’t smile very much before Cicely. But she made him laugh when she woke him up in the morning with kisses on his cheeks, smile when she walked up behind him and hugged him tight, grin when he saw her walking towards him with books she’d bought and wanted to share with him. Just simply being around her made him want to constantly be smiling.

Next to him, he heard the priest introduce the ring exchange, and Clarence moved towards where he and Cicely stood, presenting the simple wedding bands they had picked out. Cicely had been the one who insisted on their simplicity, telling Harry as they laid in bed one morning that it didn’t matter how expensive the rings were, it was what they represented that mattered to her. Told him that she had spent her life caring about people’s perceptions of herself and she didn’t care anymore—she wanted a ring that was hers and was from him, and that was all.

And that was how she had ended up with the engagement ring she wore now, and the thin band he now held in his palm as he recited the words to the ring exchange. “With this ring,” he said, taking in the sight of her looking at him with nothing but love in her eyes, “I thee wed.” He slipped the ring over the silk glove on her hand, the metal nestling between the folds of the silk, fitting her just as well as the glove she wore.

Then, Cicely picked up Harry’s ring and he saw it for the first time—a wide silver band, and when she turned it slightly he saw an inscription glint on the inside. She had gotten an inscription on it, he thought to himself as she held it in her palm. For some reason, that thought made his chest tighten, and it only got tighter when she began to speak. “With this ring,” she said, rotating his hand so it was aligned with the ring, “I thee wed.”

It felt no heavier in weight than the other rings he wore, but the meaning behind it made it more precious than the other metals he wore. The fact that it was what represented his bond to her made him vow immediately to never take it off unless he was fighting, to wear it with pride for the rest of his life.

With their hands clasped, the priest pronounced them husband and wife, and Harry’s love chuckled softly when the words You may now kiss the bride were spoken. Harry had never moved fasted in his life, not caring who surrounded him—he slipped his hand to her waist and tugged her into his chest, desperate to feel her body against him. His home, his love, his life, everything in the world that mattered existed in the body of a single person: her.

The sound of her giggle when his lips met hers made it all the more perfect. The taste of her lipstick and her mid-day tea, the scent of her perfume that had imprinted itself in his mind. When he kissed her, nothing else mattered—she was his, finally.

As they pulled away, just an innocent and chaste kiss unlike the ones they usually shared, Cicely pressed her fingertips to his cheekbones, brushing softly against his skin. She was all he could see, her features filling his faze, and he had never seen a more stunning sight. The joy in her expression overwhelmed him—how could he make another person feel that way? How could he make her feel that level of happiness? How could he be the reason for the smile that was so wide it blinded him?

It boggled his mind, but when she kissed his lips softly, one more time, a chuckle rising from his best man, he knew why: because she loved him just as much as he loved her. There wasn’t a soul on the earth who could illicit an emotion that would surpass the feeling that rested in both of their chest as they stood in the chapel. They were meant for one another, crafted and sculpted to fit each other’s nooks and crannies, designed to match.

A cheer rose up from the crowd—one he knew originated from Josiah’s men who were too rowdy to keep themselves together any longer than they had to, but he didn’t mind. It made Cicely laugh, and that sound was one Harry would’ve fought in another war just to hear one more time.

“Did we just get married?” Cicely asked him, just loud enough so he could hear it, her fingers intertwining with his as they turned to face the crowd.

“I think so,” he answered, squeezing her palm in his. “How do ya feel, Mrs. Styles?”

The corners of her lips turned up and she pressed her arm closer to his. “Happier than ever before.”

After the ceremony, there was at the pub, the first one Josiah ever bought and where the beer was always free for Harry, and by extension, Cicely. They closed the place down for the night and the barkeep was constantly carrying pints around the place, the barmaid laughing and handing drunken men and women their beers from across the bar. In the corner of the room, sat Harry and Cicely in the booth, his arm slung around her shoulders and a rare grin on his face.

They had decided to leave on their honeymoon the following morning—they wanted to celebrate with their friends. Friends who had become their family, who had protected and fought for them every step of the way. They would have plenty of honeymoons if Harry had it his way, the memory of their time along the sea one of the brightest days of his life. It paled only in comparison to this day, the day when he married his love.

Cicely still wore her wedding dress, mainly because Harry refused to let her change, and her fingers crawled up the material of his pants stretched tight across his thighs. “Our friends are menaces,” she said under her breath and Harry snorted in response.

It was a sound she rarely heard outside of the comfort of their home. This Harry was the one she had pulled from his shell, the one who laughed and smiled and tickled her until she swatted at him to stop. To experience him like this out in public meant something, even if only Cicely knew it. It meant he didn’t feel like he had to hide anymore or pretend. That he could simply live for the first time in a very long time.

“I want another pint,” she told him, pressing the pads of her index and middle finger into the inside of his thigh, earning her a wide-eyed glance from Harry.

“Do ya now?” He replied, rotating his upper body ever so slightly, just enough so that he could face her full-on. “When I met you, you’d never even had one before, and now you’re askin’ me for another.”

He shook his head and Cicely leaned in slightly, the drunken haze of her mind letting the barrier she usually kept up between them in public falling. “I was corrupted, I suppose.”

His eyebrows lifted at her words, surprised to hear his normally innocent girl say such a thing. “Were ya now? And who by?”

“A man,” she answered, running her fingertips along the seam of his pants. “A man with bloody knuckles and a soft touch.”

Even though she meant it to be tantalizing, Harry couldn’t help the tug the words had on his heart. He had always feared what he did for a living would scare away the most precious thing in the world, but she managed to find his humanity amidst all of the pain he caused. “That man must be quite lucky,” he told her with measured breath, his hand heavy on her shoulder, “to have the honor of touching you.”

Cicely’s eyes didn’t leave his as her hand crept to his knee, running her finger in a circle along the inside. Harry gulped at the pressure and watched her closely as she leaned in, closing the space between them. “He is,” she said, “but he’s not doing it nearly enough right now.”

Just as he was about to respond, a glass slammed down onto the table and he looked up to see Tommy standing there, grinning ear to ear. “The newlyweds!” He said, spreading one arm out. “To Mr. and Mrs. Styles!” He raised his pint and the entire pub cheered, echoing his words as they took a drink.

Cicely had the wherewithal to smile and wave, but Harry was too distracted by what she had said. Suddenly, it felt like his purpose in life was to touch her, to feel her skin against his. And she was wearing too much fabric—the long sleeves, the gloves, the long skirt. He couldn’t see her in the way he needed, and the need was something carnal inside of him. The desire to touch his wife.

His wife.

“You’re my wife,” he said out of the blue, drawing her attention back to him.

“Pardon?” Perhaps she couldn’t hear him over the boisterous singing that had taken over the pub, but Harry couldn’t hear anything bu her.

“You’re my wife.” When he said the words he ran his thumb across her cheek, from the apple of it to her ear, before sweeping his digit down to the hinge of her jaw and the slope of her neck. “My wife.” He said in a whisper, as if in awe with the concept, the reality of it settling in for the first time.

Reflexively, she leaned into his palm, resting her head in his touch. “My husband,” she answered. “I can’t quite believe it.”

The smile he gave her was soft, the edges of his mouth curving upwards only barely, but the real smile was in his eyes. The sea of green that she swam in every moment of her life, the edges of his irises that she bathed in in her dreams. “Will it feel more real in the mornin’?”

“I don’t know,” she told him, because she didn’t. She didn’t know what the morning would hold for them, other than a train ride to a cottage where they were staying for a fortnight. “Perhaps.”

Gently, he rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t think it’ll ever feel real,” he whispered. “I can barely even process that you’re real sometimes, much less that you’re mine.”

This was something they battled constantly—the fact that Harry constantly feared losing her. It had happened once and neither of them wanted it to happen again, but for Harry it was his darkest nightmare, the one that rattled him to his core. Sometimes, they bled into the daytime and he struggled with the concept that she was truly there with him, that she wasn’t a figment of his imagination or an angel come to take him away.

Cicely had grown used to it, though, as much as it hurt her. She was used to his requests to remind him and she did so gladly, reciting their story in the darkness and the light, no matter what time of day he needed it. Sometimes he would call her on the telephone he had gotten installed so she could speak to her mother, and he would beg her in a broken tone to remind him, to remind him of reality. He’d call from the boxing ring, breathless and mind whirling, struggling to piece it all together and she’d help him. She didn’t mind. She only wished that one day he would understand that she felt just as lucky to have him as he did her. That he was just as precious to her, that she would fight for him for the rest of her days, that he was worthy of every second of joy they experienced. It broke her to see him in pain, and sometimes he struggled to understand that—that she loved him just as deeply as he loved her.

To remind him on this occasion, she lifted her hands to cup his face, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. “Just as you are mine, my love.” Her fingers combed through his hair, the locks that she kept cropped to his preferred length. “And I will love you for the rest of my days.”

The pub around them continued to celebrate their union as the happy couple existed in their bubble, impenetrable from the love and adoration flowing between them. Cheers and song lasted well into the night, until the beer nearly ran out and Jack finally forced everyone out, the sounds of joy spilling into the narrow streets of Balsall Heath. The place where two people fell in love, despite who they were and the barriers that stood in their way.

The place where Harry and Cicely fell in love.

Josiah demanded that Harry and Cicely let one of his men drive them home, saying that newlyweds didn’t walk home after the pub. So instead they ended up getting dropped off at Harry’s home, the black car pulling away from the curb and leaving them alone in the dark, quiet night. They still lived in the same home, the same green-wallpaper and small kitchen, but Cicely had made a few updates.

“C’mere,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her body into his.

“What are you doing?” She said in a harsh whisper when he picked her up, her legs draped over one arm and the other tightly gripping her upper body.

“What does it look like?” He asked, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “‘M carryin’ my wife across the threshold.”

Cicely giggled as he stepped inside, crossing the threshold that they had each crossed an innumerable amount of times, but for some reason it felt different. It felt different between Cicely’s white wedding dress hung from her body as he set her on her feet, and she held the her veil in her hands so it didn’t drag along the floor. It felt different because when Harry’s hand pressed into her back, there was a new ring present on his fingers—one that she had placed there.

Inside, the home was still Harry’s, but by this point it was Cicely’s as well. Photographs sat on the hall table, ones of the two of them—one from a horserace they’d gone to, Cicely laughing into Harry’s chest as he held her, another of them at the sea. She’d even put up one of her and her mother in the living room next to the one of Harry and his family—who hadn’t been present at the wedding, as much as she had tried to force him to invite them. The bookshelf was littered with Cicely’s favorite books and her many bookmarks laid on various surfaces in the house, random scraps of paper that she would tuck between pages. On the floors were rugs that she had picked out at the markets, warming up the house that was now her home.

In the kitchen was new cutlery and plates and glasses, ones without nicks at the sides. The pantry stayed stocked because suddenly it wasn’t just Harry who ate dinner at the small dining table every night, it was Harry and Cicely. Her favorite tea was tucked in next to his in the drawer, and she’d sewn napkins from their old curtains which she had replaced, claiming they needed more color in their home.

Upstairs, she’d replaced the sheets with a pristine white and the duvet cover was now a dark blue, a soft material she had searched high and low for. In the armoire were her clothes lying next to his, her dresses hung up in the wardrobe and her shoes right alongside his. On the bedside table was Cicely’s favorite photograph: one she had had Pippa take on their front steps when they’d gotten back from the sea, a rare smile on Harry’s face as he looked at Cicely, their eyes both filled with love.

Now, Cicely leaned against the banister and looked at her husband, her eyes drawing down his body as he locked the front door behind them. “Why are ya starin' at me?” He asked, stepping towards her, the whiskey and beer making his accent more prominent and his words clipped at the end.

“Hmm,” she murmured, sliding her palms up his suit jacket. “I was looking at my husband.”

“Were ya now?” Harry’s voice was rough as he said the words, his body closing in to hers and pressing her flush against the banister, her back digging into the spindles. “And?”

“And,” she replied, her hands slipping down, fingertips brushing over where she knew the barbells sat under his clothing, taking joy in the hollow groan that fell from his lips. “I think I’d like to undress him.”

The sounds that slid from Harry’s mouth were sinful, a combination of curses that she would never allow him to say in front of their children, her name, and wordless, broken, moans. “Would you like to do that here or upstairs?” He asked, leaning in and brushing his lips to her jawline, nipping at the thin skin that covered her bone, reveling in the gasp that left her. “Your choice, love.”

She pushed back his jacket, not so far that it fell off his shoulders, but enough that she could run her hands up his dress shirt. Then, with a steady gaze that left him gasping for air, she hooked her fingers in each of the buttons of his shirt, popping each one with precision. “Partly here,” she answered once she had access to his chest, her fingertips pressing into his warm skin, his mind going haywire no matter how many times she had touched his bare chest. Then, she leaned in and her soft lips met his sternum, leaving a trail of kisses and pulls on his skin, the pop of her lips when she drew away the only sound other than the light exhales of her name in the air. “And partly there.”

Harry would let her do anything. That had been established long ago. He was a mere mortal to her holy aura, just a scrap of paper in a book of poems that were all her compositions. He was hers to do as she wished, and he never desired to be anything else. “As you wish,” he rasped, eyes darkening when her leg hooked around his calf and tugged him closer.

It was as if a gun had been shot off, one of the ones that were tucked into the jackets of Josiah’s men—suddenly they were hands and lips, a flurry of touch. Cicely couldn’t get enough, her desire to touch him having built up all day and was bursting at the seams. All she wanted was his bare skin under hers, to touch him and feel every rise and fall of his body. So when she hooked her hands under his shirt and tugged, neither of them cared that the remaining buttons were still clasped and that they were pulled free from the thread. Neither of them minded when they fell to the floor along with his suit jacket and his shirt, the fabric long forgotten in favor of Cicely touching every inch of his chest.

“Ci,” he whispered when she licked across his collarbones, drawing a path and humming his name under her breath. “Ci, Ci, Ci,” he chanted, her name the only thought he could process at the sensation of her so close yet so far away.

Her tongue dipped into the hollow above where his bone jutted out, and then down, nibbling at the skin absentmindedly before dipping her head and sucking harshly on the swallows on his chest. She had a mission—she wanted to lick and pull on her favorite part of him, the piercings adorning his nipples, the very things that had so intrigued her the first time she had seen them. And when she did, Harry did the same thing he always did, gripped her hips in his wide palms and clenched his jaw, barely holding himself together.

Warmth spread across his skin as she licked up, down, and in a circle over his right nipple, a rumble from her throat making goosebumps rise on the area surrounding it. Her thumbs brushed up her sides, the feeling of her touch overwhelming his senses—he could smell nothing but her perfume, the smoke in her hair and the lingering beer on her breath. She was sweetness and Balsall Heath all rolled into one—she was home, the only home he had ever truly known, the only one that ever mattered. She was his, to have and to hold, for the rest of his days.

And he would never let her go.

Cicely could’ve stayed there for hours, neck bent as she licked and pulled at his nipples, the cold metal beneath her tongue and pressed against her lips, exploring the sounds he made and the way he touched her body. But Harry’s fingers curled into her hair and pulled her face up to look at his, their eyes meeting as their chests rose and fell.

“Love,” he murmured, irises blown out as he looked at her, thumbs brushing up her neck gently. “I need ya.”

She didn’t even need to reply, she just pulled on his neck and connected their mouths finally, the press of Harry’s lips to hers pushing every other thought in her head to the side. He consumed her, the imprint of his body against hers as he held her close, the pull of his teeth on her bottom lip, the soft chuckles leaving his mouth when she squirmed in his grasp. “Harry,” she said, words caught in her throat when he drew a line down her neck of searing kisses. “Upstairs.”

His head bounced up at that. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” she answered, raising her ankle that was around his calf higher so it was hitched around his knees. “Want my husband.” Her sentences were incomplete, but they always were when they were like this. When their minds went blank, devoid of anything other than one another, their souls intertwined.

Harry’s eyes softened at her last word, hands falling from her ribcage to her hips. “Can I carry you?” He asked, knowing sometimes she liked to walk herself, but other times she didn’t mind it when placing all of her trust in him. Sometimes it made her feel powerless, the feeling reminding her of that dreaded day in the streets with her father and the police. When that happened, Harry let her lead the way, let her hold all the power in the moment so she didn’t slip into the depths of her mind as she sometimes did.

Tonight, Cicely said yes, the word light in the near-darkness of their entry hall. They’d turned on no other lights when they had entered, but they didn’t need them. They could describe one another perfectly without light, having memorized each other’s bodies long ago. But more than that, they could sense one another’s moods—Cicely knew what Harry wanted and needed, and vice versa.

They could survive in the dark.

They had before.

Harry carried her up the stairs of their home, Cicely’s lips sweeping across his shoulders like wildfire, hands curled around his shoulders as he held her in his arms. When they reached what used to be his room, and now belonged to the both of them, he set her down on the floor, knowing he would need her standing to undress her.

First, he bent to his knees and removed her heels, the white satin ruined from the mud in the streets, but he knew she didn’t mind. He placed them next to where she stood, balanced on the kitten heels, and then stood back up. “Turn ‘round for me,” he said in the quiet of their room.

She followed his directions immediately, turning so the back of her wedding dress was revealed, her veil forgotten somewhere downstairs. Harry’s fingers swept down her back, Cicely’s breath constricting at the sensation, and then popped each of the tiny buttons on her dress, revealing bit by bit of her skin.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, perhaps to no one but himself, but Cicely heard it. He said it every time he saw her like this, even if it was just the sliver of skin above her stockings, it was beauty to him. To see her bare skin was a sight he would never forget, and he always reminded her of how to him, she was the most stunning creature on Earth.

Then, his lips met her spine, and Cicely sighed, heavy and wet in the room, her hands reaching behind her to hold onto something—she caught the top of his trousers and curled her forefingers into them. “H,” she rasped.

“I’m tryin’ to savor you,” he said, humming against her skin. “Let me, please, love.”

She couldn’t refuse him, not when it was a request such as this. So she let him continue on his adventure, murmuring praises into her as he popped each button, imprinting his love on her skin so it would never leave her. It was like a tattoo, like the black ink on his body, except instead of ink it was the wet heat of his tongue and a trail of searing kisses.

Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away. He knew he was torturing her, but he knew she enjoyed the words he spoke and the way he touched her body. How he pushed the material off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, the light weight of the silk hitting their wooden floors in a whoosh of air. And in front of him stood his love in nothing but delicate white lace. “Ci,” he whispered, fingers crawling down her exposed back, brushing over the back of her brassiere and down her spine to where the tops of her underwear laid.

Slowly, she turned, her body just a hair’s distance away, and he saw the rest of her body—the rise and fall of her breasts, the softness of her stomach, the angles of her hips and the length of her legs. The flush of her cheeks and the glow in her eyes meant only for him. “Your turn,” she said, and popped the button on his trousers, which were all that remained of his wedding attire.

“Wait—“ he said, grabbing her hands. “My shoes, forgot my shoes.”

She giggled and the sound pulled them out of the heat of the moment for just long enough for Harry to poke her side and fall to his knees, untying the laces of his boots and pulling them off, letting them fall to the side next to her heels. “Done?” She asked when he rose back to standing.

“Impatient,” he mumbled, pushing the hair back from her forehead and behind her ear.

She laughed softly, air from her lips hitting his chest. “Perhaps a bit.”

“Oh?” It had taken them so long to get to his point—where Cicely felt comfortable asking for what she wanted, feeling confident in situations such as this. What had changed was the realization that their time had no end date, no expiration, that they had forever together. There was a sense of calm and comfort in that discovery, and it had allowed her to open up a part of herself she never had before, the part of her that toyed with him and prodded and taunted him just as much as he did her.

Cicely returned to the task at hand, her hand brushing against his cock and smiling when Harry jerked under her touch. Then, she pulled down the zipper on his trousers, and let them fall to the ground. He was wearing boxers, a rarity for him, if she was being honest, but she decided to leave them for the time being.

For a breath, they stood and stared at each other, eyes searching one another’s and taking in the moment. And then, Cicely sat down on the edge of their bed and scooted backwards, her underwear riding down on her hips slightly as she moved, and laid back.

Harry couldn’t breathe for a moment. Despite sleeping with her every night, his body curled up against hers, he never tired of the sight of her spread out in front of him, of how she reached out for him with one hand, waiting for him to join her. He took her hand and his knees hit the duvet, inching towards her, his knees on either side of her body as he made his way up.

“I love you,” he murmured, resting his forehead to her cheek, head bent and eyes shut. He did this sometimes hen he was simply overwhelmed with his emotions, unable to even put them into words. His eyelashes fluttered softly against her skin, and her hands swept up his back, nails lightly scraping across his skin to calm him. “I don’t—I—“

“Me too,” she answered, knowing what he meant without even needing to hear the words.

He lifted his head, took one look at her face, and closed the narrow space between them, lips slotting between hers. Gently, he lowered himself, needing to be closer to her, wanting his skin pressed to hers, and placed his knees between her legs. He laid flush against her and Cicely loved it, adored how he let his weight drop to her, how he let himself go in her arms. Her knees moved upwards and her ankles hooked around his lower back, and when she did so, they both groaned, the feeling of their centers brushing lighting a fire in both of their bellies.

She needed more. Anything he could give her, she needed. She wanted it all, every part of him, forever. “For the rest of my life,” she murmured when his lips met her jaw, then her neck, and down to her chest. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”

Harry pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see her fully. “Rest of my life,” he agreed. “Only you, Ci.”

With that, they were clamoring for one another, Harry unclasping her brassiere and pulling it away, her hands tugging down his boxers, desperate for him. It was as if it was their first time all over again, even thought it was anything but—they’d had one another so many times they couldn’t remember a night without each other since Cicely had returned to him. They didn’t know how to sleep apart, in fact.

When Harry pulled down her underwear and bent to lick into her, Cicely pulled on his hair softly, making him meet her gaze. “No,” she said gently, “need you.”

He looked at her, at the desire in her eyes, and moved back up her body so he was hovering over her. Then, he pulled her leg up so it slotted around his hips, and ground his pelvis into hers ever so slightly, just enough for his length to rub against her folds, her fingernails digging into the skin of his chest where he was bound to have marks tomorrow, but he didn’t mind. She would be the only person he would be seeing for days, anyways.

“Please,” she begged, voice breaking, fingers tugging on the skin at the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Harry.”

The way she said his name had him unraveling for her. “Okay, love, okay,” his forehead fell to hers, pants of air leaving both of their mouths, and they could hear nothing but each other. He reached between them, pumping his length roughly, desperation seeping through his body.

Her hand met his all of a sudden, palm enclosing around his, and she built a harsher pace, one that had him bucking against her hips and hissing through his teeth. When his eyes found hers again, she licked her lips slowly, and then she shifted, brushing his tip against her entrance.

She was wet, like she always was for him, and it made Harry’s hands curl in the duvet, trying to anchor himself as she slipped him inside of her. Every time she was warm, wet, and tight, accepting him willingly, her body arching into his and sighing in relief. “Ci,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he pushed fully into her, feeling her walls constrict around him. “Fuck, love.”

And then he began to move, knowing she didn’t need much time anymore—from the way her fingernails dragged down his shoulder blades, he knew she was wound up as tightly as he was. He wondered if she had been thinking of this all day as he had, of having her alone, of having her to himself finally.

Now that he did, he never wanted it to end. The sound of her breathy moans in his ears, how she panted as he pushed slowly in and out of her, building a gentle rhythm because the emotions taking hold of his body wouldn’t allow for anything more. He wanted to show her with each press of his body how much he adored her, how she was his everything, how nothing could ever compare to her. She was chanting his name, mixed in with I love you and it broke him, a stray tear slipping from his eye that she kissed away, littering his eyelids with gentle caresses of her lips.

Cicely couldn’t think, much less find the words for how she felt in that moment. She had loved Harry from the beginning, had known he would be hers for just as long, and yet this felt new. This feeling of permanence; that no one could take him away, that he would always be hers and no one else’s. As he thrust into her, his face slotted against hers, their cheeks brushing every time he moved, not a centimeter of space between them, she didn’t know how it was possible to love someone this much. For it to overtake her every sense, for it to permeate every bone in her body, every part of her soul. He was everything to her.

“I love you,” he echoed in her ear, repeating it over and over again as his hips met hers. “Love you so much.” He was unabashed in his confession, needing her to know, and she did.

Her fingers found his hand, parting his digits so she could nestled hers between them, and he gripped her hand. She tucked her head, pressing searing kisses to every part of his face and neck she could reach, and Harry’s mind was short circuiting. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, but she was making it impossible for him.

How she was holding him inside of her, how she curled her body into his, how she held onto him like she was sinking and he was her life raft. Her bare skin on his, the brush of her breasts against the barbells tucked into his nipples, making his entire body even more sensitive. How she sucked harshly on his jaw, most definitely leaving a mark that she would giggle at in the morning when they woke up.

“Closer,” she begged suddenly, her request reminding him so vividly of one of their first times together. “I need you closer, Harry.”

He would give her anything she requested, and that one was first on his list. So he picked her up, just as he had many times before, arms curling under her back, and sat back on his heels. With her situated on his lap, her legs draped around his waist and her arms around his neck, there was nowhere either of them could escape to, their entire worlds caught up in that one moment. “Better?” He asked, pressing her hips down onto him more.

Her head tipped backwards and he took advantage of the exposed skin, nipping and sucking on her pulse point. “Perfect,” she rasped when he thrust up into her. Then she cursed and he smiled, loving when she let completely go and her posh self disappeared, replaced with the real Cicely who had no walls. Not for him—they’d broken them down long ago.

“Not going to last much longer,” he murmured, face nestled into the crook of her neck, buried deep into her hair. “Sorry, love.”

“Shh,” she said, squeezing at his hips as he pushed deeply into her. “Me either.” He was keeping the pace slow and it was killing her, but also making everything more intense, her boy craving each and every time their hips met. It was as if she couldn’t get enough, clawing at his back when he drove harshly into her than before, a mumbled apology leaving his lips.

“Ci,” he begged, not even sure what he was begging for, just her. Her. Something more, some more shred that she could give him.

She knew immediately, carding her fingers through his locks of hair and scratching at his scalp, a murmur of his name in his ear, and then she tightened around him. Her climax was rushing towards her in a storm, the sweat between their bodies and the press of their skin heightening everything about the moment, the hushed tones of love and desperation in their throats. “Stay inside me,” she whispered, lips brushing over his cheek.

“Wha’?” He asked, eyelids fluttering. He was so close that she felt it, his long eyelashes on her skin.

“Want it inside,” she repeated, not even really knowing the words for what she wanted, but hoping he understood.

“I—love, that means—“ A baby, he thought to himself, his hands tightening around her waist. They’d spoken about it, both knowing they wanted it, but they had said after the wedding. And now, he supposed, it was after the wedding.

“I know,” she said softly. “Please, H.”

His forehead rested against her clavicle, utterly overwhelmed. “Okay,” he said, voice hoarse from the prospect of their child mixed in with the love already rushing through him. It was too much—he could feel himself rapidly nearing his end, the buck of his hips speeding up. “I’m—“

“I’ve got you.” Cicely’s hands swept across his back and peppered his hairline with kisses, her legs tight around his waist. “I’ve got you, darling.”

Darling. That word was one she used rarely and only in private, but that made it even more meaningful. It made his heart clench, and when he lifted his head to let his eyes meet her, he was done for. She was crying, light tears streaking down her cheeks, but her eyes were filled with nothing but love, not a trace of heartbreak. No, she was crying for joy. From the knowledge that this love, it was unending.

That was what did him in. It was what had him stuttering in her grasp, body shaking slightly as he came inside of her, ropes brushing her walls, his thrusts slowing. He brushed her bud, not wanting to leave her behind, and their names mixed, one from each of them. Promises of love, echoes of adoration, reminders of what they meant to one another filled the room.

Cicely’s body was shivering in his hold, her high leaving her body mush. She could feel him inside of her, and she quite liked it, if she was being honest—liked having a piece of him left behind.

Her hands cradled his head and she gently said, “I love you, Harry.”

He didn’t even need to say it back, she could see the words written in his every feature, but he did anyways. “I love you, Ci. Always.” Then, he kissed her, letting their lips tell their story again and again.

Later, they laid in bed and whispered about their future together. He couldn’t help but sweep his palms over her belly where one day their child would rest. Before Cicely, Harry didn’t know if he would ever be a father. But now, it was the only path that was certain. A path with her, their child, their family, that was all he wanted. The rest of the world was meaningless without them.

Cicely’s fingers intertwined with his as they lay there, the clink of the metal of their rings softly sounding in the room. “Thank you,” she said.

He looked at her, curious. “For what?”

“Everything.” She didn’t have words for all of the individual things he had given her, and she hoped he would know what she meant.

And he did. He knew it all, every part of her, and adored each piece. He pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, and tucked her in closer to his chest, a silent answer that there was nothing to thank him for. That he would do it all over again with every reincarnation, that they would find each other again every time. After all, they were meant for one another, two halves to a whole.

Harry and Cicely, Cicely and Harry.

Until the end of time.

series taglist: @autumn-sunflowers @afire-hes @harrydobedirectioning​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas @vapingisntmything @frindgeyy @froggystyles @magical-mischief-makers @heslilac @ursogoldenshan @hhh33-3l​ @grace-ful-gold​ @tbslenthusiast @smirkingstyles @taeboonie @samjo1986

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 24 - christmas eve

24 days - 24 oneshots | a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | prompt list can be found here

read on ao3

rated: g | words: 1214

Quiet music filled her apartment, not from the radio, but from Roy’s gentle humming. It was no tune Riza recognised, just a culmination of different notes that rise and fell with his breath. Every so often the tune would break, and he’d press a kiss to her forehead before resuming once more as if nothing were amiss. He acted as if it were the most natural action in the world and it made Riza melt inside every time.

The fire roared on the wall to her left, giving the occasional crackle and pop. Hayate was snoozing in front of it on the rug, perfectly content, which Riza felt she could relate to.

Despite the warmth the flames provided, nothing made her feel warmer and more at peace than the person whose arms were around her.

Although she’d expected nothing from anyone this year for Christmas, someone had given her the best thing of all. It had blown her expectations out of the water and made her happier than she could ever properly put into words.

Her head shifted so she could rest her cheek more comfortable against Roy’s shoulder. He said nothing but responded by pressing another kiss against her body, this time into her hair. His own cheek returned to resting atop her head as he held her close.

His arms were wrapped loosely around her waist, his hands clasped together on her lower back. Even though they weren’t restricting in their hold, there was still a comforting weight and pressure behind his touch. If Riza wanted to move away she could, but she knew that would never happen. Not when she was this warm and comfortable.

When Riza had told Rebecca she’d like peace and quiet for Christmas, this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. This was completely unexpected however it was so much better than what she’d originally planned.

She’d didn’t know why she didn’t think or suspect that Roy may pull a stunt like the one he did. He was such a dork, but he was her dork. The fact he’d gone to the shops and bought a Santa suit, just so he could sneak over here and deliver his “presents” to her… He was incredible.

Along with his surprise presence, he’d bought her a pale pink skirt she’d wistfully eyed weeks ago but had never had the time to go back and buy. How he’d known about that, Riza didn’t know, but she suspected it was maybe Rebecca’s doing. As well as that, he’d given Hayate some treats and a new toy to play with.

Riza lifted her head from his shoulder. Roy immediately moved so Riza could, and tilted his head inquisitively, wondering if everything was all right. She nodded.

Her hands were removed from behind his back and she ran them lightly up his chest. There was a sharp intake of breath from Roy and it made her stomach flutter. Her hands stopped in their path though when she felt an abnormality underneath her palm. It was hard compared to his skin… But something was missing. She’d felt around his dog tags but found no accompanying piece of jewellery attached to it. Her stomach tensed.

Roy was well within his right not to wear it if he wanted to. That was their understanding, but a tiny part of her was immediately worried that there was a reason to do with its absence, and that reason was related to her.

He must have noticed her hesitation and the tensing of her body because he lifted his hand without a word. There, on his left ring finger, was the wedding ring she’d given him years prior.

“Never leave the house without it,” he murmured quietly, breaking the silence between them.

Relief relaxed her shoulders. She exhaled softly and nodded.

“Plus, it added to my disguise,” he winked, making her laugh quietly.

“Every day I feel that ring resting upon my heart and thank my lucky stars that we got to meet all those years ago.” His lips caressed the skin of her forehead, making her eyes flutter closed as she accepted his ministrations. “It brings me so much joy to have it there because they both belong to you.”

She glanced up at him. He was entirely sincere and reflected back in his eyes was the gratitude and love she felt for him too. It was a struggle for her to put it into the right words, but for him, she’d try. He deserved it.

“That ring on my dog tags has got me through some of the toughest times,” she whispered. “It reminds me of you and the commitment we made to one another. Both professionally and personally,” she added. “I love you so much. I never thought I would ever feel that way about someone. I never dreamed I’d be loved so much in return either, but like most things I’m entwined in with you, you blow my expectations out of the water.”

His smile was beatific before he angled his head to kiss her. His lips were soft against hers, both of them move together as their hearts pounded in tandem.

“I am undeserving of someone as perfect as you, Riza,” he murmured against her.

“Impossible,” she shook her head. “You’re perfect for me. You always know what I need.”

His kiss was fiercer this time, and Riza took that as “I feel the same way about you”.

“Thank you for coming here tonight.”

“Of course, Riza. You’re welcome. I wanted to.”

“It… It was certainly unexpected,” she chuckled.

“I like to be a wild card every now and then,” he grinned. A chaste kiss was pressed to her cheek as Riza bowed her head towards him. Her fingers increased their pressure on his chest because of his affection and she let out a happy sigh.

“You’re certainly something, Roy Mustang,” she countered.

“We’ll, you must like it because you married me.” He stuck his tongue out at her. “No take backs now. It’s been too long.”

“If I do, who gets the Santa suit in the divorce?”

He choked on his laughter and Riza giggled.

“I would give you the world if I could, Mrs. Mustang.” Riza was sure he got a kick out of her surprised reaction every time he called her that. “So, I suppose you could get the suit in the divorce.”

“It’ll be something to remember you by,” she snickered.

“About that,” he replied, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “I would like to think tonight is definitely one to remember. And if I hold you tight enough then you’ll never get to leave my side,” he added petulantly.

She shook her head. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Oh?” He asked his question after she didn’t elaborate further.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she answered. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” he stressed. “I can live with that.”

Their playful banter died down, leaving them both content in each other’s arms.

Like Roy said, it was definitely a night to remember. It was certainly a Christmas to remember. She was blown away by the lengths Roy would go to for her and had been given so much more than she could ever have hoped for. He’d made her so happy.

[plathski]

Blue

A/N: this is for the @queendomsecretsanta and @thenicestnonbinary. happy holidays!

Word count: 1,988

TWs: Death.

Cathy could vividly recall the exact moment she heard that her husband had passed away.

She had just put her foot into the palace after taking a half hour long stroll around the palace’s garden. It was a beautiful day, with no clouds in the beautiful light blue sky, and she had been feeling a bit erratic lately due to the stress that was caused by the king being sick, so she decided that was the best thing she could do to take everything off her mind, even if the relaxation only lasted for a few fleeting moments.

“Catherine!”

Before she could even blink, Anne Herbert, her lady in waiting, was directly in front of her, her petrified dark brown eyes piercing her soul.

“..what? What’s wrong?” The queen had inquired, her mind racing with possibilities what could have gotten her friend so scared.

The explanation hit her like a ton of bricks.

“King Henry’s dead!”

Most of the day after that moment was a complete blur to her. She was whisked into her and the king’s bedroom, where she was surrounded by many important members of the court.

She found a chair right at his bedside and sat herself down in it.

She truly didn’t know how she felt as she stared at Henry’s cold, lifeless face. The sounds of quiet sobbing from all the familar faces in the room were interrupting her thoughts.

The guilt she had from it was immense, but the word she thought best described her feelings was relief.

Of course, her husband’s death was surely a tragedy, just like the death of every english royal. But he wasn’t like all the royals before him. He was an angry, miserable, violent lunatic who only cared for himself. If it was possible, she would have him burned at the stake for all the wicked things he’d done throughout his life. 

She’d do it for Catherine of Aragon, the woman he kicked to the curb without a second thought. She’d do it for Anne Boleyn, the one he bastardized and beheaded all because she couldn’t give him a son. She’d do it for Jane Seymour, who was dead because Henry valued the idea of having a son more than her life. She’d do it for Anna of Cleves, who he humilated and ostracized. And she’d do it for Katherine Howard, who got her childhood ripped away from her.

But she could never do that, for although she was the queen of England, she was powerless compared to him.

Oh well, he was dead now, it didn’t matter anymore. At least he would never hurt anyone ever again.

“I...I have to go.” She murmured to Anne, standing up slowly with a emotionless expression on her face.

“Of course, Catherine.”

The queen left the bedroom, contemplating on where she was to go from here.

What use was there for the widow of a king, anyway?

--

The funeral was held just under a month later.

Catherine wore a stunning black dress that was designed by the country’s finest tailors. It was costumized with a dark blue sapphire embroidered right under the collar, with matching beeds hanging from the hem.

Even after her husband’s passing, she still had to look her best.

For hours, she sat in the oriel window of the former queen Catherine of Aragon, watching speeches be given by court members, listening to the sobs of the mourning citizens, forcing herself to hear people praising the king...

It all almost drove her mad.

Henry didn’t deserve to be remembered with affection and grace. He was a tyrant, for christ’s sake! He shouldn’t be given sympathy, he should be shamed and looked down upon, just like all villains are. He took everything for himself, he didn’t care about his children, and he hurt all his wives...

...he didn't hurt her, though.

Throughout his entire life, Henry had been nothing but ruthless to the ones he married. He left Catherine of Aragon behind when he found a woman that he loved more, he beheaded Anne Boleyn all because she couldn't bore him a son, Jane Seymour had to give away her life so he could have a heir to the throne, he had Anna of Cleves come to England from German only to degrade her for her appearance, and he sentenced Katherine Howard to death when she was only 19.

And she had merely outlived him.

She was the only one to have come out unscathed, a surviving soldier upon his fallen friends, and she would have to live with the crushing weight of that for the rest of her live.

--

“Catherine?”

“What is it, Anne?”

“There’s someone waiting for you at the palace door.”

The former queen sighed, letting her shoulders slump. Today had been exhausting, and she had an extremely busy day tomorrow. Who could possibly be wanting to see her now?

“Is something wrong, your majesty?”

“No, I’m fine.” Cathy answered, waving a dismissive hand at her lady in waiting. “I’ll go attend to my visitor right now.”

Anne nodded, and walked out of the doorframe and down the hallway, the clicking of her heels echoing throughout the area.

Catherine swiftly rummaged through her closet until her she found her midnight blue cloak. Then, she threw it on over her white nightgown and pulled the hood over her curly dark brown hair before scurrying out of her bedroom.

As she dashed down the halls of the palace, she couldn’t help feel a sense of nostalgia. As dreadful as the time she had lived there had been, she had called it home for nearly four years, and tomorrow, she was moving out. Where? She didn’t know yet, as her servants had set a place up for her, but were keeping it a secret, so it must’ve been just right for her.

As she strolled down the marble staircase and entered the main hall, she thought about what her future could look like. She wanted to live in a cottage somewhere in the outskirts of Berkshire, away from the public eye. Though she was sure her servants had different plans, it was still a comforting thought. After all that she had been through, she just wanted to live out the rest of her days in peace.

At last, after what felt like an eon of reminiscing as she walked, she finally  reached the two large, mahogany doors that led to the garden. The mysterious guest was awaiting her arrival on the other side, whoever they were.

She wrapped her fingers around the two golden handles on them, and pushed them open.

She then walked outside, and felt her heart soar when she saw who her visitor was.

There, standing a few feet ahead of her, his face illuminated by the bright moon shining thousands of feet above, wearing a shy smile, was-

“...Thomas?”

“You didn’t think I’d leave you behind, did you?”

Catherine rushed into her former husband’s arms, joyous tears filling her eyes as she let out a joyous laugh.

She truly was coming home.

--

The last months of Catherine’s life were the happiest ones.

Four months after she moved out of the palace and into a tiny house in downtown London, she had a secret, private wedding, in which she married her one true love, Thomas Seymour. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t tell anyone besides her close family members, as a marriage so soon after Henry’s death would surely cause a scandal. But as long as she could live with Thomas, she was happy.

Since she wasn’t the queen of England anymore, she had a lot of time on her hands, and she used most of that time to write. She sat in her study for hours, scribbling out little words in ink onto her paper. Words that spoke of love, wisdom, liberation, among hundreds and hundreds of other topics. There was practically nothing that could stop her from writing.

Except for one thing.

August 30th, 1548, was the happiest day of her life. That day was the day that she met her beautiful little girl, Mary Seymour. She’ll never forget how happy she felt when she was handed little Mae, how the little bundle of joy that was sitting on her chest reached her tiny arms out to her and giggled...

She took care of Mae for as long as she could, which was unfortunately only a mere four months. After all, nothing lasts forever.

--

“I’m sorry, my love...” “For what?” “For not doing anything.” “Don’t apologize, Thomas. Things like this are in the hands of fate...”

Catherine laid in what she knew was her soon to be deathbed, Thomas at her side. In his arms was Mae, her innocent brown eyes staring right at her mother.

No one knows for sure what happened, but sometime after her daugther’s birth, the former queen fell ill. She brushed it off, assuming that it was just a cold that would fade away in the coming weeks.

Weeks turned into months, and now she was here, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper.

This was so unfair. She was supposed to live a happy, mostly private life with her husband and her daugther. She was supposed to get her writings published and prove herself to be one of the greatest writers of the century. She was supposed to watch Mae grow up and become a strong, beautiful woman.

Her life wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Then, just as she could feel the energy start to drain away from her body, an idea struck her.

“T-thomas.”

“Yes, dear?” The man in question asked, his voice filled with remorse.

“....p-publish my writings for me.” She uttered, using the last bit of strength she had to squeeze Thomas’ hand. 

He nodded, smiling as tears spilled down his cheeks. “Of course.”

He knew just as well as her that it was time.

She was exhausted, and the room seemed to be getting quite dark.

“...farewell...”

Her dark brown eyes closed, and her hand fell, hitting the royal blue carpet.

She was at peace at last.

Well, for five hundred years, at least.

--

Cathy sat in the kitchen of the queen’s flat, typing out an email to her publisher. Computers were such a pain to use, she was lucky if she made a full sentence with no spelling errors.

It was just one of the many things that she had to get accustumed to in the modern world.

That didn’t mean modern life was bad. In fact, she much preferred it over her former life. No more wearing several hundred coats of makeup, easy and fast transportation, quicker ways of communication such as texting and calling, no risk of getting beheaded by the goverment...

And of course, there was Six.

Six was the best thing that had ever happened to her. It meant feminism, love, strength, all the things that she thought were essential. Though Six, she had connected with her fellow queens and bonded with them over the struggles of living in a man’s world. They could finally tell their stories and find happiness and peace within themselves.

All she needed was Six.

And of course, she didn’t go a day without thinking about Mae and Thomas. The grief of losing them loomed over her, like a pesky raven that just wouldn’t leave her alone. But they were still there with her, through the laughter and the tears, through the singing and the dancing, through the living and the loving.

They were there with her in her heart, and that was just enough for her.

She clicked the ‘send’ button on the email, and stood up from the dark blue chair as she fiddled with the hem of her navy blue t-shirt, and walked out of the kitchen, making sure to grab her sky blue water bottle.

Why did everything always seem so blue?

[ffxivaltaholic]

Prompt #16: Crane

“I admit... I am rather curious why they chose to summon us so formally...” Glancing up to her fiancé, the small Raen fiddled nervously with her sleeves, to the point he reached out to quell her anxious fidgeting, placing a gentle hand atop hers.   “I’m sure it’s nothing bad, just relax... It’s your parents, it can’t be that concerning.” Granted he understood why she was panicking a bit, as her mother was quite ill.  The summons had arrived that morning and since receiving the letter Ame had been an emotional flurry, radiating stress and worry. “But what if she’s getting worse? What if it’s reached that point.. I just I can’t...”  Her stutters were suggesting a minor panic attack and immediately Kaze picked her up in his arms, lifting the small woman with ease and holding her tightly to his chest. Thankfully today he was not wearing armor, especially the spikey kind. “It’s fine, if it was something like that they would have summoned us immediately, instead of for dinner.” Thankfully the Raen man was very composed and calm, as was his nature, and as a result it seemed to soothe his panicked mate.  “Now lets get ready to go. No more stressing out, we have an hour before we have to leave.”  That was enough time for Ame to get ready and as she finally relented her worries, Kaze lowered her to the ground, giving one last supportive squeeze before releasing her from the embrace.  With a sigh, he watched the little blonde Raen take off to their room to prepare.

Thankfully, it seemed the small Raen woman had worked out much of her anxious energy on getting ready, exiting the room in a lovely red dress and giving a little twirl.  Red was not normally her color, but it was to stunning of an outfit to pass up, and she had bought it regardless of the color. To Kaze, the red was stunning, though he was biased in favor of the color.  “You look lovely.” He barely got the words out as she practically leapt into his arms, smiling gently. “You always know how to cheer me up.” She gave a tiny chuckle and a gentle kiss, enjoying the peaceful moment before he put her back down.  Taking a deep breath Ame soothed her rising worries as best she could, trying to ignore the nervous butterflies in her stomach.  “Shall we then?” With a small sigh and a nod, Kaze took hold of her hand, leading his mate out and into the fading light of the day.

When they arrived Ame was already a ball of worry, and despite her partner’s words of comfort, her attention immediately went to her mother the moment they came into sight.  “Dad! Mom! Good evening.” She picked up pace, immediately going to the frail woman’s side first. Giving a glance over her mother from head to toe, it seemed today was a good day as far as her illness. While she looked exhausted and pale, Sakura didn’t appear to be in much pain. Meanwhile her father greeted Kaze and offered him a seat, letting his wife and daughter have a moment.  Once he noticed Ame calm down after confirming her mother’s condition, the elder Raen motioned for her to take a seat as well.  “Thank you both for coming.” While Kaze seemed at ease, Sadasuke could see Ame fidgeting and for a moment the man simply sipped his tea before finally continuing.  “I know you are busy, but your mother and I wanted to give you something.”

Immediately the stress left Ame’s face, and her father gave a tiny smile. “Oh? That is unexpected.” Kaze spoke quietly, filling his own cup with some green tea and watching intently.  Giving a nod, Sadasuke turned to his wife and extended a hand, waiting patiently while she retrieved a wrapped item from her lap. “Perhaps but, Sakura and I felt this was a suitable gift, since you will soon be wed.”  Placing the wrapped box on the table, he waited patiently for the pair to open it.  While Kaze was curious, he motioned gently for Ame to do the honors, and after a moment to admire the beautiful fabric, she gently untied the bow, pulling back the silk and uttering a small gasp.   “Ah... I remember this...” It was something she had seen many times growing up and had always loved looking at.  Made from a fine wood and stained a dark cherry red with two cranes done in various tones of cream, sandalwood, and pink dyed wood. The box was pristine, despite surviving the dangerous trip from Doma years ago.  “You’re giving it to us?” Both of them knew how precious this item was to her parents so it was a bit of a shock to have it passed onto them.

“Yes...” Her mother, Sakura, spoke with a gentle tone.  “It was given to us on our wedding day. The two cranes painted on the top, they represent longevity, peace and good fortune. Something we wish for you both.”  Very gently Kaze picked up the box and key, examining it with great care.  “Thank you for such a thoughtful gift. We will certainly cherish it.” Carefully he handed it to Ame so she could hold it as well, though the look on her face suggested that it hadn’t quite sunk in yet that the item was theirs now. “Your mother always kept her most precious items in it, and I hope you will do the same. Please open it.” Sadasuke sat patiently, shifting to reach out and take his wife’s hand. At his urging, Ame gently took the key and turned it, the lock easily coming open.  As she lifted the lid, the Raen uttered a small gasp.  “It’s beautiful... Dad...” She gave a little sniffle, trying not to cry.  “I love it...” Ame choked out a few more words before she reached up to rub the budding tears from her eyes. “Every girl deserves to feel like a princess on her wedding day.” Sakura chimed in, offering a sweet smile.  “Our girl is no different. We may not be nobility anymore but... We wanted you to feel like royalty.”  She offered a gentle smile, watching as Ame plucked the necklace delicately from the box, the stones glittering in the low light. Ame knew it must have cost a small fortune, but it would be rude to not accept such a gift, even if it felt overwhelming.   “Thank you...” Her voice cracked and a few tears snuck through. Immediately Kaze reached over to wipe them away, chuckling at his bride’s emotional reaction.  “Try it on.” He encouraged and reached over to help with the clasp, giving a nod of approval as the necklace sat perfectly on her collarbones.   “Perfect. It is worthy of such a fine young woman. I am proud of you both.” Sadasuke gave an approving nod, and while the grizzled old Raen rarely smiled, tonight he managed one.  “I hope you have an enduring and loving marriage like your mother and I.” Sakura nodded to his words, beaming with joy at her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law.  “As for you Kaze, your gift will be delivered tomorrow. Please keep and eye out for it.” Despite giving that bit of information, he did not specify what the gift was, deciding to leave it for a surprise. “Shall we enjoy the dinner before it gets cold?” Sakura decided to shift the subject, if only to save her precious daughter from crying again.  “We ordered a special Udon for the occasion.”

[kryptsune]

Till Death Do You Part {Part 4} (UF Frans)

🌼Here is part 4 and what I planned to be the last of this little prompt, HOWEVER, if you all really like it then I may consider continuing it. If I can get this post to at least 100 notes then I will seriously consider a part 5 or more. I hope you all enjoy!

Eventually she awoke, staring at the face sleeping next to her. She slipped from her bed careful not to wake him and silently put on some appropriate clothing. It was still very much deep into the night. Her hand slid down the wooden banister to sneakily open the front door. She could run far away right now and it would take some time for him to find her again. 

Her heart couldn’t do it. 

The slivers of moonlight played off her pale skin as she walked closer to the waters edge. Red’s estate had a beautiful lake that stretched around one section of the home. Its crystal clear waters were a peaceful place where the ghosts of memories past resided in the grasses. There had been many a picnic here. 

She cherished it. Every moment they were together filled her with joy but as those phantoms faded away into the starry sky, so too did her smiling face. The bench that retained so many memories was like a grave stone as she bypassed it to take a seat on the lush grasses below. Her fingers slid over that smooth glassy surface, letting hints of her cobalt blue magic dance over the water. They fluttered over the lake causing soft ripples before transforming into beautiful luminescent butterflies.

He had not slept that entire evening. Even if he needed it his mind swirled with conflicting emotions and thoughts. Maybe he could run away with her. They would have to be careful with his brothers on their trail but they could live as themselves. 

Now he was dressed as the Lord of an estate but that was not his roots. He had been a poor boy outside the city in the country. His family did everything they could to better their lives better. He remembered the little garden and how his big brother scolded him for being impatient. They did not have much but they were a happy family.

His attention turned to the human girl sleeping next to him. He wanted to give her everything he ever dreamed of, but their union was one that could only end in tragedy. A selfishness grew within him. Frisk was his and no other was going to lay a finger on the sweet mage. 

Even with his eyes closed he could feel her slip from their bed and close the door behind her. She was awake but she needed her space. He knew that it would be good for her to reflect on all that had happened. It wasn’t his place to tell her how to feel or push on her his own selfish whims. 

Instead he rose from the bed, sliding his fingers into his blonde hair, and getting dressed. He found himself in his study. It was a good place for him to be able to keep an eye on her but also be alone with his own thoughts for a while. There had to be a way for him to pull his humanity back. No more calculated killings, no more toying with people like they were just fodder. She made him want to be better, something more than a wretched damned soul. 

Red sighed up in his study, glass of half emptied wine in his hand. He had poured it the moment he stepped foot in the room, "I have not felt like this in centuries. Why do you impart feeling within me when so many others could not?" The thoughts that swarmed his mind forced him to toss the book he had been attempting to read off to one side, "There is no doubt her humanity will betray me. They all do eventually.” His grip was enough to shatter the glass, growling in frustration before throwing the glass into the fire. It had been 400 years of never caring, of having his emotions drain away bit by bit. Why did they have to rear their ugly head now of all times?!

He slumped in his seat watching as the shards of glass fought against the blazing inferno he had tossed them into. The humans betrayed, that was who and what they were. Frisk... saying her name had him shutting his eyes and rubbing at his face with a pale hand. She was not like the others and never had been. Would she try to run away? Leave him forever? That was what he felt he deserved as he removed himself from his chair to look out over his estate. 

There she was resting by the lake, moon beams turning her hair nearly a pastel red. No, she would not run. He placed his hand to the pane of the glass as it frosted over with his breath. She must be cold out there all alone. 

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

Frisk dipped her fingers into the water only to watch her magic swirl and light up the entire lake. This was the place she had told him the truth about herself. How happy she had been that he accepted her for who she was when no one else did.

Somehow deep down she knew that he cared, "I feel like I am a fool but even love can be so blind." She sat there alone letting the cold consume her. It was her way of trying to clear her head. He had said that she would be like the others. Did he not understand that she wouldn't betray him? It hurt her heart so but she understood his apprehension.

That still did not make it right. 

Red watched her for a few moments more before he walked out into the night to stand behind her. She was shivering just as she had on the night of their wedding, yet she stayed out here, away from him, “The moon looks beautiful tonight.” 

She whirled around in surprise when she heard his voice, turning to look at him, "Yes, very much. Have you come to take me inside? Or are you fearful I shall announce to the world of your treachery?” It was harsh, perhaps too harsh. There was no one more that she hated than deceivers, “or perhaps that I would flee this place and you would no longer have mage blood to sustain you?” 

Her time of grieving had past now all she felt was disappointment and anger. Even that after a few moments ebbed away. She curled in on herself in an attempt to keep warm though she could no longer tell if it was the frigid air or the icy bite of her frozen heart. 

He sighed once more taking a seat next to her, slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. A mirror to his actions the night he pledged his life... or rather unlife to her, "Just remember what I said Frisk. This is a great deal of trust I place in you.” 

She looked up at him creating a cobalt blue flower in her hand letting it dance magically in her palm, "I believe I said something similar to you when we grew to know each other a little more. Please remember... I placed all my trust in you. I want you to believe me but I know after so many betrayals that can be hard. Will you let me prove that I am different?"

He reached out and touch her cheek, "I already have," he whispered softly, holding her close to him. Change was hard but he would try because she gave him hope.

She was one to speak her truth and she would die before betraying his trust. The fact that he was giving that to her was more than she could ask for, "Thank you." Maybe one day they would no longer question each other, “That warms my heart to hear.”

He inclined his head, closing his eyes as he took in that scent of honeysuckle and lavender, “I do not wish to frighten you. I know what I am. It has been so for centuries. The night that I could no longer resist your sweet blood... was painful. The look on your face reminded me that I do not deserve you. I am no longer of his world and yet you, my beautiful Love, are. I do not know how long it will take for me to express my... affections and I understand if you wish to leave this dead thing where it lies.”

Frisk made a soft squeak of a noise when he pulled her close. Those pretty blue eyes looked up at him curiously, “Red...must you be so morbid after all that you have said? I was taken aback by your deception but that does not mean that I no longer love you. You are the one that has made me feel alive most of all.” Her eyes fell closed as she cradled the hand resting on her cheek, “I do not believe that my heart would be able to take being apart from you.”  

Her eyes met his before he gave her a soft smile, “Then never shall we be. My Love.” 

She leaned against him as he brushed her hair off her shoulder, resting his lips against the crook of her neck. Her fluttering heart beat forced a small sad chuckle from him, “I frighten you to be this close, don’t I?” 

Her body turned more toward him when he pulled back to smile at her sadly, “I... do not fear you. I fear the pain. You took that feeling from me and I do not remember. I can only assume it to be painful. I wish to take care of you as you do me and this is the one thing you need that only I can provide.” 

He was shocked by her response but that was just Frisk. She was kind and compassionate. Her mind was sharper than any he had come across, “I believe you my Sweet one and I shall confide in you everything about my curse, my family, and my past. You must have many questions for me. I shall answer them all.” 

She felt her heart turn within her chest as he confided in her. He was truly putting his full trust in her hands. No more secrets between the two. The pain she once endured had faded leaving behind a new pressure. It was the kind that constricted the lungs for a moment, skipped the normal rhythm of the heart, and warmed her from the inside out. Her joy had returned, “Very much but I do not wish to overwhelm you with them.”

It had been so long since he laughed genuinely, “I have but all the time in the world for you to satisfy your curiosity but I ask two things of you. It is strictly for your protection. My brothers will not take kindly to me keeping a mortal wife. They see humanity as nothing but cattle. This game is truly the only interaction they feel is entertaining enough to debase themselves. Our father is even worse. I do not think the same way they do as I am sure you are aware but my brothers and my father are powerful vampires it does not take much for them to ensnare the human mind. Your magic gives you protection as does the bond I hope to share with you...but it is important to never underestimate them. Do you understand my Love?” 

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, “This will bot be easy for either of us but I love you so.” There it was. He had finally spoke the words he had been meaning to for days.

Frisk nodded gently listening to him enlighten her on his families propensity for bigotry. Her heart nearly came to a stop, feeling her cheeks begin to hurt from how large her smile had grown, “I understand, Red. I love you too.” 

She also noted that she must be careful now that his siblings would no longer see her as a helpless unaware victim. It would be a long road to breaking nearly half a millennia of destruction and manipulation. 

He too nodded his head to affirm that he believed that she understood, “I shall teach you how to protect yourself further but tonight is not the night for such things.”

The hand that he had been threading through her hair moved to brush her cheek, tilting her head up toward him, "Never go with my brothers alone. Not even if they claim I asked them to fetch you and never look either of them in the eyes directly. My brothers are far older than me and though our abilities differ there are some that remain universal. The ability to bend the mind through compulsion is one such beast. I have found that my manipulations work on you, however, I must be at full strength for it to remain. My brothers have no such limitations. A simple look into their eyes and I dread what they may do.” 

She rested her hands on either side of his cheeks, moving to face him fully. Those stunning red eyes glittered like the most dazzling rubies. A trait that they both seemed to share, “I’ve never seen such a beautiful shade of red before.” 

He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her waist nearly hoisting her up so that they could be at eye level properly, “Did I not just explain why you should not stare into a vampires eyes? Are you not afraid what I desire from you?” 

A sheepish grin caused her eyes to crinkle at the sides in mirth, “My whatever shall I do then? I simply have not have the opportunity to see you as you truly are. This is the first time. I do not believe that you would be able to entrap the mind of one that loves you so. Your desires are my own but I fully understand that I must be careful from now on.” She had a feeling it would be far from the last time she would hear from his brothers.

“Warning your beloved of our abilities are you? tsk tsk little brother~”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear...

The pair froze when that smooth voice layered with flirtation and mockery met their ears. This was far from the ideal situation that they desired. There was no moment to play the fool. His brothers knew, of how much, they did not know. She could feel the tension that Red was holding in his body as his grip around her tightened, "Crimson.. I thought you had returned to your estate." This time he was free to glare at his vampiric sibling.

Crimsons unamused laugh had her husband’s eyes narrowing dangerously, practically illuminated in warning, “Do you take us for fools little brother? Both myself and Gered saw right through your little ruse. I can’t say that I’m shocked by the development, however, I am that you thought we would buy into your little story. He tilted his head before turning his attention on his nails as if the conversation was boring him, “We never left and if you had not come out to watch over your pretty little mortal then well... who knows what would have happened~”

He growled, "You are not to touch her!" Never had he defied his own family.  Gered’s snicker joined Crimson’s chuckles as he leaned against one of the willows that made this lake its home. It was far too dark for Frisk to see anything properly beyond the protection of the lake she made glow earlier, "tsk tsk little brother. You know we could easily overpower you and take her for our own. Unless of course you do what you have failed to do. You do not wish to disappoint us, do you? After everything we have done for you?"

Red held her tightly to him as much as physically possible. He was not even going to give them a window of opportunity, "Do not force my hand. You know why father made me like you!"

Frisk curled in his arms before taking a shaky breath. It was true she would never betray him, never want to see him hurt, especially not for her sake. The true nature of his condition frightened her somewhat or rather not him as much as his seemingly aggressive brothers, “Red...” 

His growling did not stop, "She is mine to deal with as I see fit brothers. You have your own, quell your jealousy that I found a rare mage blood before the  both of you."

She could tell by the tone of Gered’s voice that he was no longer playing, “Ahh but mage blood calls to mage blood is that not right, little brother~" His chuckling sent a shiver up and down the length of her spine involuntarily. At this distance she would not be able to look into their eyes, hopefully things remained that way.

Her attention turned on the two, “Please leave him be. I... m...mage... blood?” What was he trying to imply? She glanced back at Red who looked furious before his eyes fell on her. That expression melted away as he batted away the mocking chuckles in the background, “Yes. It is why I am so drawn to you. Not just your beauty and your mind but also your blood. It calls to me. Before I turned I too was the same as you. Some humans can survive the change but with magic in ones veins it is undeniable. We all used to be mages it is why our father turned us and why your blood as well as our ancestors... is so very rare.” 

A smirk curled on Crimson’s face as Red paused his animosity toward them to explain the truth to her, “I am rather tempted just to know that rare taste of mage blood~”

Gered chimed in moments later, “Yes, indeed. Besides you have never stopped us from sharing in the past. She recovered rather quickly from her illness do you not agree Red?”

Frisk swallowed thickly as she felt his slow heart beat under the palm of her hand. If he pulled her any closer he might just crack her rib. She had corsets for that daily torture. He had snapped, "You see... brothers.” The venom laced in his voice was enough to kill, “You and Crimson are not used to it. I have no doubt you would drain her dry. Crimson you are such a blood thirsty bastard that your last wife was nothing more than scraps of flesh and bone when you were finished. As for you Gered... You did not even bother to hide the gory display. I do not believe there was even a body to speak of!”

He was now pointing at the two, “Even with her full recovery there is no way in Hell I will be letting you even take a taste.”

Crimson seemed amused by the argument, “Smitten as I’ve even seen him.” He placed his fingers near his lips, “You don’t give us enough credit dear baby brother. The reason we care not for our feeding habits is because those that end up in our arms hold no value. She apparently holds value to you and thus we would be at our best behavior. You do not want us to summon father, do you? I hate to imagine what would happen to your blushing wife then.”

Frisk could not believe what slipped from her mouth but she nearly saw Red’s face turn as pale as a ghost. If such a thing was even possible, “If you promise to leave Red alone... I’ll do it... I’ll let all three of you share me but only under the condition I am able to have a happy life with your brother.” Any normal human would have continued to cower in his arms, not her.

He shook her head before looking down on her, “Frisk... you do not know what you are agreeing to do.”

She sighed, “I am not going to sit back and have them bully you for keeping me alive. I heal fast, far faster than any human. I will be fine.” 

Gered folded his arms across his chest with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, “Well that is rather cute. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human stand up to any of us before... are you that in love?~ I do suppose we can both turn a blind eye if you honor that arrangement.” 

She didn’t look him directly in the eyes like Red mentioned before but the moment the question was asked she didn’t hesitate with her answer, “More than my heart can possibly take.”

He hated this. There was no way that he was going to let his brothers steal her away. She was strong willed and stubborn but giving herself over to their whims was far from ideal. As long as they kept father out of it... she would be safe enough, “Though you are my wife I am not going to treat you like so many men do. You must make your own decisions, my Love. I have faith that you will make the correct ones.”

What had she gotten herself into? Now of all times he was being sweet like this. It drove her conviction home as she spoke only once glancing at Gered’s nearly amber eyes, “I wish to warm up inside. It is quite cold out here for me.”

The eldest took a bow before offering her his hand. She trusted Red, of course, but the other two, never, “But of course. We wouldn’t dream of causing you any sort of discomfort. You may belong to our youngest brother but due to your... unique condition you can expect only the most respectful of treatment from us. You have my word.~”

She just followed them all inside before taking a seat on the couch, running her fingers through her hair. Red scoffed at his older brothers claims. What did she just agree to again? Her heart belonged to one but her blood now belonged to three. 

The fire that blazed in the grate began to warm her chilled flesh, now resting with her legs to the side of her. If she could get through to Red then perhaps the other two could retrieve the humanity they lost so long ago. It was a risk that she was willing to take as she lifted her head to give the love of her life a sweet smile. 

He came to sit beside her so she could rest her head on his shoulder. It was far past the time she should have been awake. Her back was to the other two who now were reclining themselves, a familiar glass in each hand. He threaded his arm through her own as the warmth of the fire soothed and calmed the couple. They both remained silent as they watched the flames dance within the grate.

Nearly half a year ago she had worried that a lady like her would never feel love. That she was broken, damaged due to the blood that ran in her veins but then a suitor came to call. He was young, charismatic, and treated her unlike any man had before. 

He truly was nothing like them and now she understood why. What are you supposed to say when you suddenly are thrust into a family’s nearly millennia long strife? A life of blood and excess. One of pain and regret. There would come a day when maybe she would finally be able to understand more clearly but for now all she knew was that she had found the thing she was looking for.

Even if that meant she now lived in an estate with three volatile vampiric brothers. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

with your heart, my soul is bound

for @hearteyesforbuck <3

part of the vermont series

read on ao3

When they told Maddie they had decided to get married in a month, Eddie was pretty sure she was going to pick both of them up and throw them out the window.

“You’re telling me,” she said with an eerie calm that made the hair on the back of Eddie’s arms stand up, “that I only have 31 days to plan a wedding from scratch in a town I barely know, all because you guys are too impatient to wait at least a year like normal people?” 

“It’s actually more like 27 days—” Eddie squawked as Buck elbowed him in the ribs. He turned back to his sister, doing his best to replicate the puppy dog eyes and pout that Chris always used to try and stay up past his bedtime. 

“Look, Mads…it’s just too far away.” Buck said, threading his arm through Eddie’s, squeezing his bicep. “We could go to the courthouse and get it over with, but we want to do it right. We want to do it now.” Maddie just looked at them, eyes skeptical and contemplative. “I mean, if you don’t think you’re up for it, we can always hire a wedding planner…”

“No, no way. I can do it. I’m doing it.” 

Buck grinned, turning to Eddie and shooting him a wink. Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes, planting a kiss on Buck’s shoulder. 

“You’re the best Mads, seriously. We owe you big.”

“I am the best, and you absolutely do, and I will absolutely be holding this over your head until the end of time.” She sat up straighter, picking up her laptop from the nearby coffee table and firing it up.

“First things first, what poor sucker am I going to have to yell at to get a venue booked on such short notice….”

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie’s not sure if there’s a higher power at work, but if there is, they really wanted this wedding to happen. Maybe they had taken pity on them, saw both of them work and fight so hard for their own lives that when they finally found each other, found the grace and joy in each other that they hadn’t been able to give themselves, the universe said alright, you guys deserve a break. We’ll go easier on you now.

When they couldn’t find a space no matter how loud Maddie yelled, Karen had an opening at the inn in their biggest room, the perfect size for all their guests. When their first caterer fell through, Bobby stepped up immediately, offering food and desserts and a cake free of charge as a wedding gift. When none of the rental places had a dance floor big enough for what they wanted, Buck insisted on building one from scratch, and had just enough time to finish it. 

When Eddie’s parents weren’t going to make it, some excuse about airline prices and not enough time to prepare, Sophia volunteered herself to walk Eddie down the aisle before he could even be too hurt about it. 

A month later (27 days, Eddie, that’s not a month, those four days matter), he’s standing in awe in the middle of the room where he’s going to marry the love of his life in about 20 minutes. Buck always talked about how he was sure his sister had a little bit of magic in her, but she must have summoned a whole lot more for this because she’s worked a miracle. Forest green carpet covers the center aisle, leading to a hand carved archway Chim surprised them with at the rehearsal the night before. The arch is covered in roses and chrysanthemums in burgundy and wrapped with vines of ivy. Fairy lights hang all across the ceiling, making Eddie feel like he’s in a completely different galaxy, starlight following him wherever he goes. He feels his eyes water as he takes it all in, because even in his wildest fantasies, he never imagined everything coming together this perfectly.

“Don’t cry now, you haven’t even seen Buck yet.” Maddie’s walking up the aisle, clipboard in hand, a vision in her silver dress. It might just be the lights, but she looks a little misty too.

“Maddie, I really don’t know how we can ever thank you for all of this,” Eddie says as he looks around again. She stops in front of him, places a hand on his shoulder, silent until he looks at her dead on. She’s got that familiar sparkle in her eyes that must be a Buckley trait.

“You already have. You love my brother like he deserves to be loved, with your entire heart and soul. I can never thank you for that, but maybe we can call it even now.” She pulls him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek before letting go. “Alright, back to your room, the guests will be getting here any minute.”

He gives her a mock salute as he leaves, jogging back to the room down the hall where he and his sisters have set up camp. When he left, the kids were loud as always, fighting Sophia as she tried to get them dressed. She won, thankfully, and they’re quiet now, watching Chris play a game on his Switch. Sophia is in one of the lounge chairs, head back, eyes closed, a beer held loosely in her hands.

Eddie almost feels bad disturbing her peace when he flicks her forehead.

“You better not be drunk before my wedding,” he says as he sits in the chair next to her.

She cracks an eye open, giving him a deeply unimpressed look. “Please, one beer isn’t gonna do me in, I’m not mom.” Eddie’s stomach goes a little funny at the mention of their mother, hands unconsciously clenching into fists. Sophia sets her beer down and reaches over, rubbing his hands in hers until they relax. “You know you would have been ten times more stressed if they were here. Dad would have already found 15 things wrong with the inn, and Mom would be fighting with Maddie about the decorations.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs. “You’re right, but still, it’s so…”

“Shitty? That they refused to come to their only son’s wedding? Yeah, it is.”

“Buck’s parents aren’t coming either, they didn’t even respond to the invite. This just feels like something they all should be able to give up their pride for, you know? For family’s sake.”

“But they aren’t your family, Eddie, not really. Your family is here today, everyone who loves the both of you and wants to celebrate your love. Those are the people that matter.”

Eddie nods, squeezing Sophia’s hands. “It’s really annoying how you’re right about everything.”

She nods sagely. “It’s the cross I bear as the oldest sibling.”

They settle into comfortable silence, hands still clasped, the drone of arriving guests floating in from the main room. Despite the short notice, they’re expecting almost 100 people across family, friends, co-workers, and Army buddies. As the voices continue, Eddie’s leg starts bouncing, and he can’t stop playing with his cufflinks. 

“Nervous?” Sophia asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m just— I really can’t wait to marry him.”

Sophia squeezes his hand this time, her smile soft. “I’m so happy for you, Eddie. Not just that you found Buck, either, but for everything you’ve done since you sold your book. I only ever wanted you to have the good life you deserved, and I’m so glad you have that here.”

“You’re the one who started it all,” Eddie says. “None of this would have happened if you weren’t such a snoop.”

“That’s true,” she says, laughing. “But you did all the real work. You invested in yourself and you made it happen. I just lit the match under your ass, you built the bonfire.”

Eddie’s throat feels too tight to speak, so he kisses the back of her hand instead. There’s a knock at the door before Maddie comes in, clipboard replaced with a bouquet.

“Everyone’s seated, it’s showtime.”

Sophia claps as she stands up, herding the kids, straightening ties and flattening flyways as she sends them off with Maddie. Eddie offers her his arm as she grabs her own bouquet and meets him with a blinding smile.

“Alright, Bromundo, let’s get you hitched!”

Eddie’s too excited to even fight the nickname, matching his sister’s smile as they walk out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

The music begins and the guests stand, facing the back entrance of the hall. The twins come down the aisle first, Alexa tossing fistfuls of rose petals in front of them every few steps. Chris goes next, beaming at everyone as he goes, getting a high five from Adriana and a kiss from Abuela before taking his place at the altar. 

Eddie offers Sophia his arm, and they nod to each other as they head out. When he steps into the hall again, he’s hit with the same wonder he felt the first time, even more so seeing everyone filling seats, full of joy and tears and love for him. For them. His smile is the most genuine it’s ever been, and he doesn’t even care that his cheeks already hurt. The butterflies in his stomach fly faster the closer he gets to the altar, the anticipation making his skin buzz in a wonderful way. They stop in front of the archway, and Sophia pulls him into an iron gripped hug, her arms so tight he’s worried she might leave bruises.

“You deserve this, Eddie. Every bit of it,” she whispers as she pulls away, taking her seat next to Adriana. They each blow him a kiss as he settles at the altar, Chris flashing a thumbs up from his side. Eddie looks towards the back of the aisle and feels his breath stop completely, the rest of the world melting to nothing around him. He’s glad they decided to let him walk down first because he’s not sure he’d be able to take one step with his knees feeling this weak.

Buck looks nothing less than ethereal, like the gods sent him straight down from the skies so the world could finally see what real, unfiltered beauty looks like. His burgundy suit hugs every glorious inch of him, makes his birthmark into even more of the angel’s kiss Eddie knows it is. His hair is styled but soft enough that the curls are still loose, glowing under the lights like a halo. It’s not long before Eddie’s vision blurs with tears, the happiest tears he’s ever felt, because despite the perfect packaging he’s in today, Eddie knows the man underneath, knows his passion and his mind and his gentleness, and that is the man he can’t wait to spend forever with. 

He makes his way down the aisle with Maddie, his smile growing the closer he gets to Eddie. He kisses Maddie’s cheek as she drops his arm, and then he’s there, right in front of him, looking even more beautiful up close. He’s not a dream, not a trick of the light, not a cruel hallucination Eddie’s brain has cooked up. He’s real and looking at Eddie like he’s the only person in the world worth looking at.

“Hi,” Buck whispers as he takes Eddie’s hands in his calloused ones, threading their fingers together.

“Hi,” Eddie responds wetly, feeling more grounded just being in Buck’s presence than he has all day. 

He doesn’t hear much past “dearly beloved”, too focused on committing every detail of Buck — the feel of his hands, the lights reflecting in his eyes, the flush of his cheeks, his smile, everything — to memory. They’re both broken from their haze as the officiant clears his throat, looking at them expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Buck asks.

“I said, I believe the grooms have written their own vows?” They nod as the audience laughs behind them. “Eddie, whenever you’re ready.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, his knees somehow going weaker. It had been easy writing his vows — the hardest part was keeping them short, since he could easily fill up volume after volume with how he feels about Buck. But he wanted them to be special, wanted to look at his almost husband the entire time he spoke so he could see in his eyes how true his words were. So he left the paper in his pocket and memorized his words instead, went over and over them with Chris until he had them down perfectly. He was worried he’d lose everything as soon as he looked at Buck, but if anything, it cemented the words in his mind even more, branding them across his heart, completely making Buck a part of his very being.

“Evan,” he starts, sees Buck’s smile wobble, feels his hands grasp tighter. “A long time ago, I accepted that I wasn’t meant for love. That there was no one who would see my scars and love me because of them, because of the man they made me into, not in spite of them. And I was happy, for the most part. Happy to focus all my energy on Chris and raising him, making sure he knew he was loved and that he mattered. It was easy to ignore, to forget wanting to be found like that.”

“But then I moved to Vermont, and a tree fell into my son’s room. You showed up to fix it, and everything changed.” He reaches a hand up to Buck’s cheek, wiping away the tears tracing paths down his face. “You fixed everything in our house, but you didn’t try and fix me. You saw the cracks and scuffs and pieces hanging by threads, and you still thought I was beautiful. You’ve witnessed the best and ugliest sides of me, and you’ve never made me feel the need to compensate for not being perfect. You see me, all of me. And for the rest of my life, I will do my best to make sure you know I see you too. To make sure you know, always, that Chris and I love you to the ends of the earth. That even if your own cracks get deeper and your scuffs get worse, I will always see you for the amazing man that you’ve become. Thank you for loving me, and for letting me love you. Thank you for not fixing me. Thank you for finding me.”

Buck sneaks a look at the officiant before leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek. There’s laughs again, in between sniffles and rustling tissues. He sees Buck take his own breath, meeting Eddie’s eyes again, and Eddie can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, his own happiness apparently too much for his body to keep inside.

“I’m clearly not the writer in this relationship,” he says, with more laughter from the audience. “I’m not always the best with my words, but I am a man of action, and I always keep my promises. So I promise you, Edmundo Diaz, to always have your back. I promise to love you every day, and even more on the days that you don’t think you deserve to be loved. I promise to catch you when you fall and to always fight for you, even if you are the person I have to fight. You talk about how I found you, but baby, we found each other. And I have no intention of ever letting you go.” 

He takes a step past Eddie then, taking a knee in front of Chris and taking both of his small hands. “And you, Christopher,” he says. “I promise you that I will always keep you safe and do whatever I can to make sure you’re happy. I promise to help you be the best person you can be, and to support you no matter what. And I promise to always order extra olives on our pizza for you, even though I know your dad hates them.” Eddie snorts, and Chris’s laughter is loud and bright as he throws his arms around Buck’s neck, crutches clattering to the floor.

“I love you Buck.”

“I love you too buddy,” Buck whispers, kissing the side of Chris’s head. He straightens up, hands Chris his crutches before taking his place in front of Eddie again. It takes every ounce of strength he has to not kiss Buck right then, instead mouthing “I love you” because it’s the only thing that won’t get him yelled at by the officiant or Abuela.

They exchange rings, promising love and honor, to cherish each other until death do they part. Eddie’s hands are steady as he slides Buck’s ring on, because there’s nothing for him to be nervous about now. This is the one thing in his life he’s most certain about, most secure in, even more so than being a father sometimes. His love for Buck is unwavering, built of the strongest stuff in the universe. There’s no room for doubts to creep in.

The officiant wraps up, has barely pronounced them husbands when Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling him in and kissing him like he’s been wanting to since he walked down the aisle. It’s deep and all-consuming and perfect, and Eddie feels absolutely electric. He kisses him again, and again, and one more time just because, before turning to scoop Chris up in his arms. He holds him on one hip, his other hand in Buck’s, and the three of them make their way back down the aisle through their clapping, cheering family.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cocktail hour passes in a blur as they mingle with guests on the back deck of the inn. They’re surrounded by the oranges and yellows of the autumn forest, and everything feels cozy and warm, full to bursting with happiness. The room is transformed for the reception, tables draped in burgundy and forest green, candles burning in their silver centerpieces, adding to the glow of the fairy lights. Dinner is lively, but everything is background noise to Eddie. He’s too wrapped up in Buck, in the feel of his arm around his shoulder, in watching him laugh, listening to him commentate on their family interacting and laughing along with him. Every so often he’s slapped by the reminder that this is it, that he and Buck are he and Buck forever, and he’s sure this unbridled joy that he feels will never fully wear off.

Maddie makes a speech, full of heartfelt wishes for their future together. Sophia makes one too, more focused on roasting her brother to oblivion, but with all the love in the world. When she’s done, she hands the microphone to Chris, who stands and faces the crowd.

“Hi, I’m Christopher, and those are my dads.” He points to Buck and Eddie at their table, and Eddie feels Buck’s breath hitch. It’s not the first time Chris has called them “his dads”, but it seems to catch Buck by surprise every time. Eddie smiles, kisses his cheek, and places a comforting hand on his thigh.

“I just want to say that I’m really glad Buck is officially part of our family now. Dad always tells me to find the things that make me happy, and I know Buck makes him very happy, and he makes me very happy too. I love you guys! Thank you!” Buck is up in an instant, quickly striding towards Chris to wrap him up and swing him around in a hug. Eddie is quickly behind him, arms coming around them both. 

As they set Chris down, the DJ announces that it’s time for the first dance. Buck offers his hand, leading Eddie out to the middle of the homemade dance floor, and Eddie once again feels like they’ve been transported to their own universe, just the two of them among the stars. As they sway, chests pressed together, eyes never leaving the other’s for long, Eddie takes in the lyrics of the song:

Life is ever changing but I will always

Find a constant and comfort in your love

With your heart my soul is bound

And as we dance I know that heaven can be found

And that’s what they are together: constant, comfortable, a home that they’ve both been searching for for longer than they can remember. Things won’t always be easy, since life never is, but they know that they’ll always be able to fall back on each other. No mistakes, no slip ups, no amount of darkness will be able to crack the steel-enforced foundation of their love. They’re in this together, tied together for life, and while that could be scary for some, it’s exhilarating for Eddie. He is finally, finally, in a love that consumes him. And he finally believes he’s worthy of it.

“What’s on your mind?” Buck asks, a curious smile on his face as they keep dancing.

“You,” Eddie responds, kissing Buck’s jaw as his blush grows. “Us. How much I love you. How excited I am for our future.”

Buck smiles, rivaling the sun, and rests their foreheads together. Eddie could stay in this starlight filled bubble of theirs forever.

“This is just the beginning, baby,” Buck says. “Us and Chris against the world. And it’s only gonna keep getting better from here.”

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Where the Wind can Reach

Hello my lovely dearies!  I've had this in my drafts folder for a while.  I hope that you enjoy some cute Suna family fluff!

Summary:  Leaving Suna to be with Shikamaru wasn't an easy decision.  A quiet moment with her brother reminds Temari about what matters most.

*

** Where the Wind can Reach 

“Hey Tem, you ready?”

Temari turned to look at her brother who smiled brightly at her. Kankurou wasn’t often stunned speechless but this was one of those rare occasions. 

“Well ...who knew that you could clean up so nicely.”  He teased her not used to seeing her in fancy clothes and without a weapon.   She probably had one somewhere.  Seeing her in a sparkling white, elaborate kimono hit home that his big sister was getting married.  She was a vision of excitement and joy. 

“I hate you.”  The smile on her face took the bite away from the statement.  

“I know.”

“You look nice.”  Temari complimented him smoothing down his hair.  It reminded him of their younger days when she’d make sure that he was presentable before any meetings.   

“I don’t know why you insisted that I couldn’t wear my face paint.  I look like dad without it.”  He was genuinely surprised by the request and initially called her a bridezilla.  That earned him a few well deserved slaps to the face. Ultimately, he was smart enough to comply with her wishes. He was there bare-faced and it felt unsettling but there were very few things that she’d asked him to do for the wedding.

Her eyes were soft and contemplative.  “I know you do.  I think that for today, for this occasion.  It’s okay.”  He waited, staring at her confused. 

“I know it’s silly but it's kind of like both you and dad are giving me away.”

Kankuro had to bite back a sob.  He pulled her into a tight hug.  “Damn it Tem, making me cry is really going to mess up my reputation.”

She chuckled returning the hug, hiding her own tears. 

Temari knew that it was strange but there was a part of her that wished that her father was there.  Unlike her brothers, she had a few hazy memories of life before the jinchuriki. When her mother was alive and her father wasn’t a monster.  

Kankuro hated that he looked so much like the previous Kazekage. Seeing himself in the mirror oftentimes felt like a cruel reminder of his father and what he’d done. They’d all tried to work through the issues of their past but the scars remained. Regardless, if Temari wanted to feel like their father was there for her wedding, he’d happily do this for her. 

“To be clear.  I’m not giving you to Nara.  If anything you’re just on loan.  You sure you wanna go through with this?  I could make a big scene, hide you in one of my puppets, leave you in the desert where no one could find you.  It could be like a fun treasure hunt.”

She rolled her eyes, this wasn’t his first time he had some hair-brained idea to stop this wedding.  “You moron.  Shikamaru would find me.”  

Kankurou shrugged.  “He is as stubborn as you are, you’re probably right.  However, say the word and Gaara and I will start an international incident and bring you right back here.”

She began to worry the pendant on the necklace Shikamaru had given her the night before.  She’d been avoiding this conversation but it was now or never.  “Are you two going to be okay without me?”

“You’re talking about the Kazekage and his adviser, of course, we’re not going to be okay.  Being with the deer keeper is what you want so we will survive.”

She sighed before admitting her true feelings.   “I feel like I’m being selfish, leaving you and Gaara, moving to Konoha.”

Kankurou waved off her concerns, not surprised by the admission. “It is totally selfish and it is completely the right thing to do.  If we didn’t fight that war for you to be able to be with the person that you want, what was the point of all of it? You deserve whatever it is that will make you happy.  And Nara makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you.  Nothing means more than that.”

She knew that she loved Shikamaru and wanted to be with him.  Still, it was hard not to worry about everyone else in her life.  This was never her dream.  She wanted to be helpful and acknowledged by her brothers.  Now, a happy life with Shikamaru was what she wanted. 

Kankurou could see the hesitation in her eyes.  His sister had always been selfless and loyal to the core.  If he or Garra made a fuss she would cast aside her own happiness for them.  He would never allow that to happen.  

He wrapped a comforting arm around her.  “Come on Tem.  It’s like you always warned me when we were kids.  There’s nowhere on Earth that the wind can’t reach.  Even when you’re in Konoha you’ll be here.  The work that you do will have far-reaching consequences here.  You’re still our Princess.” Temari leaned into his side, thankful for the reassuring words.  Her homeland and brothers would be okay.  She raised them well.  

“How’s everyone doing out there?”

“It’s a circus act.  Tons of dignitaries and important people from all the great nations.  Thanks for saving me from it. Garra is out there playing host. We could have probably sold tickets to this. It’s not every day that the Princess of Suna gets married.”

Initially, she and Shikamaru wanted a small wedding.  They very quickly discovered that was never an option.  Between their respective roles in their villages, the political ties, and familial ones this wedding was going to be an event. She hadn’t realized how many people were invested in their relationship.  It represented not only the bringing together of two families but two nations. Their marriage ushered in a new era.   Proof that peace had been achieved.

“How’s Shikamaru?”

Kankurou was ready with a snarky remark but just smiled reassuringly.  “He’s ready to be married to you.”

He’d check on the groom as one final chance to play the protective brother role. To his credit, Shikamaru hadn’t been intimidated. Whether it was because he knew Kankuro only wanted the best for his sister or that he knew Temari would be more than capable of taking care of him herself, they bonded. Kankuro may joke but he knew that his sister had found the best partner for her.  He recognized without a doubt that Shikamaru would love and protect his sister with all that he had.

“I’m ready to be married to him too.” They’d spent so much of their relationship apart, she was excited to finally wake up each day knowing that he was there. 

“Stop it, you’re being gross and romantic. It’s weird.” 

Temari rolled her eyes but was thankful that he could help calm her nerves.  “It’s my wedding, what do you expect?” 

He just chuckled giving her another affectionate hug.  

“I love you, big sister.”  For so long it had just been the two of them. Eventually, Garra completed their set.  The famed sand siblings against the world. Their lives were much different now. Filled with so many people that they loved and stood by their sides.  It was reassuring to know that at the core would always be the three of them.  They weren’t losing anything their family was just growing. 

“I love you too Kankuro.” 

Surprising them both another set of arms enclosed around them. 

“Garra?”  He just nodded and they held onto each other tightly.  Temari tried to subtly wipe away her tears.  How many times had she held them together just like this in less happy circumstances?  Now it was for something much different.  Her brothers were holding her together. 

‘Mother, father, I hope you can see how happy we are now.’ 

“Ready Temari?”  Garra asked while both of her brothers reached a hand out to her. 

Taking their hands in hers she nodded. “Yes.” 

*

**

Temari held onto her new husband tightly. Shikamaru danced so awkwardly but she refused to let them end the night without slow dancing.

She smiled feeling his warm lips kiss her forehead. 

“I love you wife.”

Wife...she was someone’s wife.  Not just anyone’s wife. She was Shikamaru’s wife. So much for marriage being a drag. 

“I love you too Shika.”

“Have you enjoyed everything?”  It had been a busy and emotional day but she was finally married to the love of her life.  For all that it was, it was perfect for them. 

“It’s been a lot but something I’ll always cherish. Can you believe that we’re actually married?”  She grinned, joy sparkling in her eyes. 

“Honestly, no.”  He chuckled and she couldn’t help but agree. They both probably would have remained single if they hadn’t met.  How their wants in life had changed. 

He placed a kiss against her palm.  His lips meeting the cool metal of her ring the outward symbol of his love for her.   “Still, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.  Thank you for marrying me.”  She nodded resting her head against his chest overwhelmed by emotion and relief.

“Are you okay?”  He knew all about her worries and anxieties about leaving home. There were moments that he was genuinely afraid that her love for Suna and her brothers would outweigh her need to be with him.  He’d asked her for so much.  For the rest of their days, he would prove that her decision was a wise one. 

She gazed out at the crowd.  The people that they loved the most in the world enjoying themselves, happy and carefree.  Kankuro was celebrating with the best of them and had a pretty intense drinking contest against Killer B.   He was now trying to convince Garra to let loose. 

“Come on Garra! Your sister just got married, you should dance!!!!” 

Temari just smiled to herself watching the scene play out.  Her heart felt at peace seeing them there happy and at ease. She knew that no matter where she was she carried her brothers with her. 

So she nodded settling back into her husband’s arms before reaching up to kiss him. They had all been through so much and could have lost everything time and again.  In the end, she had everything that she wanted.  

“Yes, I have you, we’ll be together. Everything is perfect.” 

*

**

This story was born from the headcannon that Kankurou wears face paint because he looks so much like his dad.  He hates it so the facepaint.  I have a special place in my heart for him being a middle child as well lol I love the Sand Siblings so much!!!!

Maybe one day I’ll actually write out ShikaTema’s wedding. 

Thanks again for reading!  Likes/Comments are never required but always appreciated! 

If you're interested I have a few smutty prompts that were shared with me that I can't wait to get my hands dirty with lol and I have a few other ideas jumping around but work is starting up again soon. :sigh:  I'll be back soon!  Till then take care of yourself and know that I love you!    

[broadwayandnetflix]

It’s Always Been You - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff, Pining, Semi-Angst

Summary: Being the youngest princess in a wealthy kingdom definitely has its ups and downs, especially when your father is trying to court you away to some wealthy prince. 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This was made for @bucky-smiles​ Secret Santa Writing Challenge, and I wrote this for the lovely @delicatelyherdreams​. I really do hope that you enjoy this, even with its late arrival. I feel as though this story went in a million different ways, but I tried to do you justice. I also hope you enjoy my very creative way of coming up with kingdoms. (no sarcasm here)

You sat upright on your mattress, eyes closed, and knees tucked underneath you, a faint smile gracing your lips. The air of your bedroom peaceful, quiet minus the soft sound of your record player playing in the background, calm and serene.

Rarely if ever, you had moments like these to yourself. Periods where you can just relax and not have to help your family tend the Kingdom.

Where you could simply pop open a book, wear more comfortable clothes, do nothing, go out, and not have Barnes check up on your every move. Well, you could let that last one slide.

For the last 19 years, your existence has been claimed by your family’s royal history. From the first day of your life, you were titled as one thing and one thing only.

Y/N Y/L/N, Princess of Starkonia.

You were to be polite, flexible, and accepting of those around you, you had to be presentable and prepared at your father’s beck and call. You needed to be present during ceremonies, and get prepared for what seemed to be your most significant task, marriage.

Even the mention of the word tasted bitter on your tongue, the prospect of being wedded to a man you barely knew was revolting. Yet, just like your sisters did before you, you too would have to get married at some point.

Savannah was first, marrying some big wig from a neighboring country. Juliet was next, getting married at only nineteen to one of the richest princes from Rogeria. Shortly after followed Hannah, who conveniently married Juliet’s husband’s brother.

Growing up, marriage was all your sisters could talk about. Often dreaming of what they would wear on their wedding day, or how they would soon one day become queen, conjuring up the royal subjects that they would lead and inspire over.

You would listen, of course, with an eager grin, but whenever they would ask for your input, you’d often draw a blank. Even during your early teenage years, you couldn’t really imagine your future starting off with marriage. Which, of course, was unusual regarding your sister’s childhood, so you often became alienated from discussions.

So you found refuge in the likes of one of your father’s young knights, James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky to you and you only. Despite his dedication and serious attitude to his job, you’d often find time to sweep him away.

The two of you frequently met in secret within the palace’s gigantic library, reading side by side, eating stolen pastries from the boisterous and clattering kitchen.

Underneath the full bookshelves of the library was where the two of you let your guard’s down. Both of you share secrets that you’d tell no one else, read books from the tallest shelves, and chatter on about the latest palace gossip.

The library was where you learned that Bucky was an aspiring writer, but became a knight to make a living and impress his father. He was thoughtful, quiet, but also quite humorous, always seeming to tickle you with his quips and comments.

In response, you shared your distaste of marriage and how you desired a more straightforward career that didn’t require so much attention. Instead of being judgmental and critical of your complaints, Bucky, to your delight, welcomed them with considerate eyes, and a listening ear.

Bucky made your days meaningful, always giving you something to look forward to, an escape if you will. So when your father, unbeknownst to your growing duo, made Bucky be your personal guard, the two of you were ecstatic.

Of course, you knew the reasoning behind this, your father valued your safety, being the youngest of your family meant that you were the last to be scooped up. Given your family’s rich lineage, courting, you would be a satisfying compromise for growing countries and their princes.

Bucky would often find himself falling subject to your long, and constant complaints about your potential suitors.

Nobody ever seemed to meet your fancy. Thor of Asgard was too self-absorbed, Bruce of Bannaria was too quirky, or worst of all, Samuel of Willaria was way to forthcoming.

Oh, how they all gave you quite a headache!

You could tell that your father was becoming quite frustrated with your lack of progress. Day by day would pass with to no avail, you’d always find some way to shoot each of them down.

Dinner’s would be filled with short tempers and argumentative quips that’d send you to sleep angry and exhausted. Unless you found a suitor that satisfied your father over yourself, then you could make him proud.

Yet through thick and thin, Bucky remained a constant in your life, even if he technically had to be. The two of you would often explore the little village outside of the palace. Complete with bustling vendors within the local farmer’s market that sold ripened fruit, pastries, linens, and fresh honey from the town’s apiaries.

You always found joy in seeing the many vendors that always greet you with a smile. Or seeing the kids that would run around trying not to trip over themselves to see the royal horses. Days like these were your escape as they were Bucky’s who could always be found in the town’s small bookstore.

Days where you don't have to prove yourself to anyone or focus on whomever you were going to marry. These days were your favorite, like this one, in particular, your mother and father out for a gathering with a neighboring kingdom.

Despite the flurry of servants and staff that resided in the palace, you were technically by yourself for the day. That was until you hear a knock on your door, open your eyes, and swing your legs forward to stand up from your bed.

“Come in!” you called out before rushing over to lower the sound on your record player.

The door opened with a swing and in stormed Bucky with a sour disposition, a scowl planted firmly on his lips. You gaped wide-eyed at the sight in front of you, never had you seen Bucky so angry.

“What’s wrong?” you asked quickly, watching as he simply paced your room, ignoring you.

That is until he stopped abruptly before focusing his gaze onto you, his shoulders sagging almost immediately. He stood in his uniform minus the exception of his gloves, his metal fingers reflecting in the light that streamed through your window.

“My father,” he huffed, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes tightly, “My father found my novel and went fucking ballistic.” he seethed.

Concern flooding your senses, you move forward to comfort him but ultimately decided against it, taking a step back to give him some space. Bucky’s father had always been tough on him, especially after the loss of Bucky’s mother.

Bucky, more often than not, had to take control of the house to protect himself and his little sisters while his father went out and got drunk at the local taverns. Hence why he had this job in the first place, ultimately crushing any dreams that Bucky had for writing.

“How could I be so stupid? I shouldn’t have left it in plain sight! Or, more specifically, a place where I should’ve known that Rebecca would’ve found it!” he exclaimed, cursing himself quietly, eyes widened like saucers.

“Bucky, you aren’t stupid, and there was no way you could’ve known that she would’ve found it,” you replied quietly, catching his gaze just for a second before he focused it elsewhere.

He exhaled heavily clamping his eyes shut, despite the way he held himself up, you could still see the slight tremble between his legs.

“I’m sorry that your father reacted the way he did. Buck, you don’t deserve that kind of treatment from your father.” you continued on before sitting down on the bed, his eyes opening warily at the sound of you falling against the cushions.

He watched you sit momentarily before joining you without a second thought, his much taller figure slumping onto the bed, before resting his head against yours.

You grew rigid at his touch, trying to fight the pounding in your heart that seemed to echo painstakingly loud in your chest. His arms snaking their way around to your side before he let out a shaking sigh, his metal armor cool to the touch on your skin.

Why do you feel so sweaty all of a sudden? You two had never been this close before, so why does this feel oddly comfortable? Is that cologne? Bucky smells..nice.

“Thank you.” he murmured ever so quietly so only you could hear.

“Anytime Buck, anytime.” you exhale promising yourself that you’d hold him as long as he deemed necessary.

-

One Week Later

“Come on, sister! Is there really nobody that you fancy nowadays?” Savannah, your oldest sister, exclaimed one evening as the two of you caught up as of your monthly tradition. Her eyes all giddy, hands on her hips in a way too over dramatic manner.

You frowned at the comment presented in front of you, of course, you did not ‘fancy’ any of the young princes offered to you. Yet, there did appear to be someone who did cross your mind more than often nowadays.

Bucky.

No, that didn’t mean you fancied him. Of course not, Bucky was … well, Bucky. He was your best friend, best friends don’t date. Princesses most certainly don’t marry knights either that was just fairy tale nonsense. Father would never approve either.

“Well?” Savannah quipped, her body tilting as she shifted all of her weight onto one foot.

You swallowed sheepishly, glancing down at your feet, flinching at the excited squeal that your sister let out as the realization sunk in.

“Oh my gosh! Y/N! Tell me everything? Who is he? Is he cute? Oh, tell me he’s cute!?” Savannah cried out, nearly tripping over her dress to pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Savannah!” you gasped, squirming your way out of her hold, looking at her all bewildered.

“Sorry, It’s just, my baby sister finally found someone,” she replied before taking a seat on your bed, looking at you expectantly.

“Okay, well, for starters, I don’t even know if I like him. I’m friends with him, but he’s just been very touchy lately,” you admit before plopping down beside her lying down on your bed.

“Define touchy,” she questioned while following your actions, her hair now brushing up against yours.

You glanced at her perplexed, the two-year history between you and Bucky swirling around in your mind. Why now? Why were you questioning it now?

“I don’t know, he’s just been a lot closer than he used to be.” you murmur as you rub your face in frustration.

“Don’t tell me this is that young knight that always follows you around like a lovesick puppy?” Savannah exclaimed as she sat upright, looking at you wide-eyed.

“He does not!” you retort back.

“Oh, it so is! You have to tell him!” her voice reaching a pitch that you didn’t think was possible.

“I don’t think I could even stomach that, what if he rejects me?” you sigh, sitting upright only to notice your bedroom cracked open slightly ajar.

“I’m sorry, is this a wrong time?” a voice calls out as the door pushes forward to reveal Bucky.

You have the hold back the gasp that threatened to escape your lips. Bucky catches your gaze, noting the tension in the air between you three before adjusting it onto your sister, who was just as surprised as you.

“I’m guessing this is the wrong time,” Bucky stammers awkwardly before turning around to go.

“Wait!” you cry out, causing him to turn back around, eyeing you curiously.

“I, I need to talk to you about something,” you stammer anxiety pricking at your skin. You felt hot and heavy, the bed dipping as Savannah slipped out the door.

Bucky letting the door close behind him, before walking over to sit beside you on the bed, just as you did for him not so very long ago. He looked at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher, his eyes searching yours for what you were saying.

“You know I don’t know why it hasn’t hit me sooner,” you start trying to hide the shakiness of your words.

“No one ever seemed right, or just worth my time, not even if my parent’s approval was on the line.” he nods to himself slightly at that, chuckling softly.

“I’d be so disappointed with myself, and then I would turn around, and you would be there. Bucky, you have always been there for me,” you admit swallowing before mustering up the courage to meet his eyes.

“It’s been you, Buck, it’s always been you. You are the one I want, I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” the words fall from your lips, and just like that, it’s as if time stops for just a second.

The room that felt heavy and thick with hesitation or the anxiety that clung to your skin evaporated. All you could see was Bucky and the soft smile that complimented his features. The way his hand slipped into yours, the way he didn’t look away from you as he inched closer.

The way his hand caressed your check sending shivers down your spine, or the way he kissed you with a longing that had never felt so good. Who knew someone could taste so good, or smell so good.

It was perfect, it was long overdue, and it was brand new all at once. And you couldn’t wait to see where it takes you next.

[buns-with-a-book]

Deflowered

A sequel to Flowers of White, completely spicy. So much spice. Includes SDT spice. 

There’s two poems in this fic. The second one was written by furyeclipse

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC/Vergil, Dante  Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz

Summary:  Vergil despises the scent of another man, of Draco, on the person he considers his. The scent infuriates him, enough to make him act on more base desires.

Days after they crashed her ‘wedding’, he can still smell him on her.

His demonic blood gave him heightened senses, hearing and smell and speed. It usually was a blessing but, in this moment, it was a curse. He can smell that scum, the scent of silver and sage and too-expensive cologne, still lingering around her. A part of him, a deep base beast that he sometimes wishes would just quiet down, snarls every time she passed by him before promptly filling him with shame for snarling at her when the whole affair was no fault of her own.  

How dare Draco, a pathetic excuse of a man who had shown nothing but disapproval and dismissal, believe himself worthy of Cassandra? Cassandra was nothing short of extraordinary, the blood of a warrior-saint in her veins. A part of him was always in awe of how she maneuvered herself on the battlefield, brave and bold and unafraid of the demons they faced. That fool would never know the joy that burned in those deep green eyes of hers when they got paid for exterminating demons, the determination when they clashed in the training room, the way they sparkled with amusement at whatever foolery Dante got into. Draco would never know that and he was certain he didn’t care.

Cassandra was far more than just her ancestor, far more than just the daughter of a warrior-saint. She was a queen. A queen that Draco would never respect, would never appreciate, never be worthy of. (And, if he was honest with himself, he wondered if he himself was worthy of her as well).

“Verge? Earth to Verge?”

Vergil blinked, seeing Dante’s hand waving in front of his face. He was sitting on the couch in Devil May Cry, the setting sun casting long shadows across the shop. Dante was hovering next to him, a curious but playful smile on his face.

“Dante, I’m right here.” Vergil slapped his brother’s hand away from his face.

“Yeah, sure you were.” He smiled and sat down, the couch dipping as he settled next to his twin. “I know that look of yours when you’re thinking really hard. What’s stewin?”

“The best way to get rid of you.” Vergil replied dryly, a spectral sword appearing by his will and pointed at Dante. Dante laughed, of course he would laugh.

“Nah, I feel like trying my luck.”

“Your very horrible luck, you mean.” Vergil raised an eyebrow. Despite his mild irritation, it wasn’t enough to skewer him yet. “I believe even Lady can attest to how rotten it can be.”  

“I can be lucky every once in a while!”

“Like a broken clock can be right twice a day.” Vergil snapped his book shut, finally admitting defeat. “I’m...afraid my mind still wanders back to the day we crashed Draco’s wedding. I can still smell him and it infuriates me, like an unwelcome stench that refuses to leave.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Dante hummed. “You two should go on a date.” Vergil could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

“A...date?”

“Yeah! Get your mind off the whole wedding shit.” Dante waved his hand. Vergil closed his eyes in thought.

“Perhaps star-gazing. It’s nice and relaxing, a reprieve we need from...that event.” Even mentioning it left a foul taste in his mouth, Vergil thought with a scowl. Dante let out a soft chuckle, seemingly unaware of Vergil’s inner turmoil...but Vergil noticed the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.  

“Well, there’s this nice forest outside of Red Grave. You can hike to the top and maybe get some ac- OOF!” Vergil promptly whacked him upside the head. “OW! Jeez, I’m trying to help...”

“Your idea of help is not actually help.”

“Look, I know what’s going on with you. You’re pissy another dude touched Cass when that’s your job. God Verge, you’re so easy to read when you’re angry.” Dante crossed his arms. Vergil just stared at him, not sure what to say. On one hand, Dante wasn’t wrong: the thought of Draco touching Cassandra in any capacity infuriated him to no end. On the other hand...did he have to say it so brazenly?! It always infuriated him that Dante had no shame. While Cassandra was more than willing to encourage him in his shamelessness (because she found it hilarious when that very shamelessness got him in trouble), Vergil had to draw the line somewhere.

“...if she consents.” Vergil said, standing up stiffly. “I will ask about...a date.”

“If you don’t run away from being awk-” And that was when the sword slammed down into the floor, barely missing Dante’s knee. “Hey!” Vergil ignored his exclamation as he made his way into the kitchen, where he saw Cassandra enter. Sliding his book into his jacket, he entered the kitchen to see Cassandra hard at work. A savory scent wafted through the kitchen as Cassandra stirred up waffle batter for baking. Aside her stirring bowl was cheese, tomato sauce, and herbs. He smirked, knowing that tonight’s dinner was pizza waffles.

“Hi Vergil.” Cassandra said quickly. “What do you need? As long as it’s not pestering me to finish up din-”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Vergil shook his head, earning a confused noise from her. “I would like to know if you would like to go on a date with me.”

“You sound like you’re trying to ask me out for the first time.” Cassandra said with a soft chuckle. Before he could object, she continued. “I’d love to go on a date. A nice simple date, maybe we can go stargazing on the roof.”

“On the roof of Devil May Cry?” He asked.

“Not in the mood to go anywhere for a bit. If we can stay home, I’d go for it.” A part of him, that hungry beast inside him, purred appreciatively at the idea. He watched her work on dinner.

“As you wish.” A faint smile crept on his face as he watched her work. It seemed like that little affair was nothing more than a bad memory, a memory that was rapidly fading. As she poured the finished batter into the waffle-maker, Vergil’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned against the doorframe. The sound of her making dinner was...surprisingly soothing. The fact that he could indulge in domestic scenarios like this was a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. He could only barely remember the last time he was this peaceful, the feeling of contentment with his life being foreign to him. If he had to recall, it would be back in his childhood, before the attack that changed his fate forever. But now, he had that...peace in his life. Reunited with his brother, slowly bonding over the son he only recently found out existed, and with a woman who cared about Nero just as much as he did (but more openly. Vergil being open with his emotions remained a struggle that he tried hard to work through), he was just...happy.  

He opened his eyes, watching as Cassandra finished with the waffles. She drizzled tomato sauce, cheese, and basil all over them. Setting the plate on the table, she walked past him. His nose caught her scent, of herbs and morning mist and too-expensive colog-

No. That was Draco. The beast roiled at the scent. He flinched, thankful that Cassandra wasn’t nearby to notice it.

“Dante! Dinner!” She called before slipping back into the kitchen, followed by Dante padding his way after her call. He rounded around Vergil, pausing next to his brother.

“Did you ask her out?” He asked, ice blue eyes glimmering mischievously.

“Yes.”

“Did she say yes?”

“Of course I did Dante.” Cassandra huffed. “We’re gonna go stargazing on the roof of Devil May Cry in the future.”

“How romantic.” Dante hummed. “I mean, aside from the whole ‘sitting on the roof’-”

“I’m sure it’ll be romantic somehow. Vergil’s very good at reciting poetry.” Cassandra said as she prepared a second plate of pizza waffles. She ignored the sound of Dante gagging. “Yeah yeah, you keep gagging all you want mister ‘has rotten luck with the ladies’.”

“Ow!” Dante whined. “That huuurts.”

“It hurts because it’s true.” Vergil added.

“Beating up on your own brother…” He sighed in mock defeat. “You two are mean.”

“That’s our job.” Cassandra winked at Dante before handing Vergil the plate of pizza waffles. Vergil took the plate and the fork Cassandra offered before sitting down next to Dante. Cassandra made one last plate of pizza waffles for herself, humming softly as the waffle-maker did it’s work. Vergil closed his eyes, quietly eating what she had served. He remembered the first time she made this meal, and how quickly he made his distaste known until he actually tried it. It was this very dish that made him only occasionally question what Cassandra made (most of the time, as he had come to understand it, some of her more stranger options was just to get Dante to eat more than just pizza and sundaes).

His mind moved away from that memory, to that promised date. If the devil within decided to behave, perhaps it would be just a gentle and loving affair, as she deserved after such tribulation. But it all hinged on if the devil inside him behaved. And if even the slightest hint of that scum’s scent sent it into a huffy rage…

He wasn’t too sure how he would deal with that.

---

The skies of Red Grave City were clear, the summer stars shining brightly above them. As most of Red Grave had been ripped apart, the light pollution was not as strong as it used to be, providing one with a clear view of the stars above. Normally, every reminder of the destruction of the city stung Vergil’s heart with guilt, even if he wasn’t in the right mind when he did stab himself with Yamato.

It was here, on the roof of Devil May Cry, that Vergil found Cassandra. In his hand were three books of poetry, one of Shakespearean Sonnets, his prized book of Blake, and a small notebook he kept in his coat pocket. Cassandra had given it to him on his birthday (a day he usually forgot). He had taken that notebook and tried his own hand at poetry. It’s quality was...questionable but, according to Nero, it was passable. Cassandra was busy smoothing out a large plush blanket on the floor of the roof. Not too far away was a basket, full of sweet and savory snacks to pass the time. Very faintly, in the far distance, he swore he heard a piano playing. Returning his gaze to Cassandra, her attire was a simple deep blue dress, the thin linen fluttering with her movements.

He was right, he thought with a soft smirk. Blue did look good on her.  

“Vergil, I can feel you staring.” Her words, accented with a tease, made his heart jump. He hid his brief surprise as he strode to her, sitting down on the blanket next to her. She smiled to him, laying herself down on the soft blanket. Vergil shed his coat, setting it next to the blasket of food. He set the books down on his coat. She laid down on the blanket, Vergil settling himself next to her as he took out his book of Shakespearean sonnets.

“Shakespear?” She asked, staring at the beautifully decorated book curiously.

“Why not?” He asked in turn. Cassandra laughed.

“You got me there, Mr. Poetry.” She pecked his cheek before laying down. Vergil settled down next to her and opened the book, flipping through the sonnets until he found an acceptable one. With that, he began to read.

Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But yet be blam'd, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty; And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.    Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,    Kill me with spites, yet we must not be foes.

Cassandra hummed thoughtfully as he finished reading. “That’s not 18, is it?”

“No. Too overdone. This one is his fortieth sonnet.” Vergil explained.

“Hm. 18 is a classic for a reason.” She hummed.

“Every man woos their lover with 18.” He countered. “But you are no ordinary woman, Cassandra.”

“I’m the only one that’s knocked you on your ass.” She said proudly, earning a chuckle from him.

“I believe that was because you pulled a cheap tactic on me.”

“That was one time Vergil!” Cassandra playfully whacked his shoulder. Vergil sat up, placing the book of Shakespere away. His hand took his small notebook, to which Cassandra raised an eyebrow at. “What’s that for?”

“...I’ve been practicing poetry myself.” He admitted, flipping through the pages. “It’s a hobby I’ve been working on when I am not busy.”

“Aww…” She smiled, retaking her place at his side. She rest her head on his shoulder. “Which one are you going to read?”

“Reclaim. My 78th poem.”

“78!? You either have a lot of downtime or you have a lot of ideas to immortalize in poetic form.”

“A little of both.” He smiled at her surprise. “Shall I begin?”

“Yes, please.” She rested a hand on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting on her back, and began to read.

The rightful queen came home today. She came back with her head high, Proudly bringing the slain man's head for all to see. The dress of white was gifted to the winds and carried away. It's shameful imitation of fabric no longer touched her. Now she's taken back her rightful crown, The light basked in her glory as she came to her knight.

She tilted her head, just a little, and suddenly that scent came back to him. Caught off guard, he let go of the book. It landed on his face rather ungracefully, earning a surprised gasp from Cassandra.

“Vergil?”

“I...I’m fine.” He grumbled.

“I doubt it. You’ve been...stiff ever since we came back from Rothes.” She sat up a little. “What’s going on?” Vergil lifted the notebook off his face, meeting her dark green eyes. They were searching him, trying to find out the answer to his state. He let out a sigh, setting the notebook back with his books. He sat up, helping her into a sitting up position, and turned to her.

“That man...Draco, his stench clings to you. It infuriates the devil inside me. It is of no fault of your own. You did what you had to do to save Nero and I am grateful for your bravery.” He paused, taking in a breath. “It still does not change the fact that Draco dared to touch you, dared to be in your presence when he is not worthy of it…”

“You’re jealous.” And there it was, that simple succinct phrase. “Does that mean your devil considers me a mate or something?”

“Along that line, yes.” He sighed.

“So…” Cassandra’s eyes were closed, the spellblade warrior deep in thought. “Your devil considers me as a mate and Draco’s shit caused them to get jealous and see Draco as competition. Does that sound right?” She opened her eyes, seeing Vergil’s confirmation. He nodded. “Ok, so, how do we deal with this problem?” There was a quiet that fell between them, Vergil’s eyes fluttering closed to think. He could feel Cassandra’s gaze on him, intense and searching for an answer to the predicament. Vergil knew the answer but his pride refused to let him say it. “Is it sex.”

“What?” He blinked.    

“If it wasn’t something like that, then you would’ve said it by now.” Vergil looked away, a blush on his face. “What? I’m not wrong. You never mince words about what needs to be done to solve a problem unless it’s salacious.” And indeed, she wasn’t wrong. Vergil let out a sigh.

“You are...correct. Specifically, it involves scenting.” He could feel his face burn as he spoke. “It’s...messy.”

“We have a bath. And we paid the water bill for the month.” Cassandra said. “Are you afraid I won’t like it? Or I won’t like what will happen.”

“No. It is the fact that all this was born out of a desire to possess you. And you deserve more than someone who refuses to let go.” Cassandra mulled over his words.

“Earthmother help me, you’re such a gentleman deep down.” She said with a smile. She gently took Vergil’s chin, guiding him to face her. “If you’re worried about me consenting, then don’t worry. Of course I’d consent. I know you know your strength and I trust you to not break me too much.” Her hand moved down to take his hands. “You wield Yamato so skillfully, after all. I’m sure you can control yourself or drive me mad with pleasure.” She glanced up and gave him a wink. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re insatiable.” He breathed.    

“I know.” With that, she leaned forward to kiss him. Her hand rested on his hip, the other threading through his silvery-white hair. She gently nipped at his lips, earning a soft surprised gasp. She slid her tongue inside quickly, taking advantage of his surprise to establish her dominance. He chuckled into the kiss, slowly tipping her back onto the blanket. The hand on his hip moved to rub his groin, earning a low groan from the half-devil above her. He pulled back, earning a soft gasp from her. He leaned back, pulling the dress off her. She aided him in the effort, pulling the soft fabric off her. He leaned back, carefully pulling off his vest. He could see the hunger and appreciation in her eyes, she didn’t even try to hide it. Placing the vest next to her dress, he worked on sliding his pants off. His eyes flicked to Cassandra, who was reaching back to undo her bra. He took in a soft breath, watching as it fell away. He pulled off his pants, noticing how Cassandra’s gaze flicked down to his groin and thighs.

“Yes?”

“Lace underwear, huh?” Cassandra asked, quite obviously amused. He tensed for a moment.

“The other options chafe. It’s distracting.”

“I like it.” She leaned forward, pulling the waistband of his underwear and pulling it back and down, exposing his cock. “And it makes your dick look that much more appetizing.” She smirked at his blushing face, pulling him out of his underwear. “And those thighs? To die for.”

“Are you going to spend the rest of the night showering me with compliments?”

“I might.” She winked. “But I’m not wrong.” She reached down, stroking Vergil’s cock. He let out a grunt, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s a look…” She murmured.

“You drive me mad.” She felt his hand grab her hair. “You insatiable harlot.” She grinned at him, meeting his smirk. Before she could reply, he forced her down onto her back. He presented his cock to her. Quickly getting the hint, she took the tip into her mouth and sucked, swirling her tongue around the slit. He let out a grunt, his hand gripping just a little tighter on her hair. He remained still, groaning softly as she leaned forward, bobbing her head on his cock. Vergil groaned as she worked, her hands moving up to massage his thighs, the very part of him she praised to high heavens.

Well, not that hers were lacking in any manner. But that was neither here nor there. His more immediate focus was on Cassandra, his ice blue eyes meeting her dark green. That half-lidded sultry look made him shiver, a look that shot down his spine and made his cock throb. That deep base beast rumbled with approval at the sight...and it wanted more.  Despite his attempts to stay in control, the beast within refused. He could feel his body shift and change, slowly as his control loosened. He growled as his load poured down her throat. With the last of his control, he moved back. In moments, he transformed with a burst of demonic energy.

Cassandra stared at the now transformed devil hovering over her, wings flared out behind him. The chill of the oncoming night was gone, replaced by the warmth that radiated from the very devil she was admiring. The devil let out a slow exhale, blue meeting green. She looked up and down the devil’s armored body, the deep blue that pulsated like a glowing heart from his chest to his flared wings. She could hear his tail swaying slowly behind him, faintly seeing the sharpened tip from behind his wings. He shifted back a little, as if he was worried that he had startled her.

“Wow...hot.” Cassandra said, earning an amused rumble from the devil hovering above her. Cassandra sat up, her hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. The devil leaned into her hand, warm against her skin. She smiled at the sight. “What? You thought I would be running for my life at the sight of you?”

“...a little.” He rumbled, voice warped from the demonic energy. “From the shock of my transformation.”

“You’re such a gentleman.” She took his hand and gave the warm palm a kiss. With a pleased rumble, he slowly moved his way down to her thighs. He pushed her thighs apart, noticing Cassandra shiver at the claws that pressed into her skin. Vergil leaned forward, his tongue rubbing slowly against her cunt. It rubbed up and down her slick folds, occasionally rolling around her clit, before moving down to push inside her. She gasped out, her hand reaching down to grab his horn. She pulled him closer to her, wanting to feel more of his tongue against her. Her body shook as he gave her more of what she wanted, his tongue lapping up her juices. Cassandra began to grind her hips against his mouth, shivering at the sensations.

He pulled back, letting out a pleased rumble. Cassandra lifted herself up a little by her elbows, looking down to Vergil’s groin. The carapace protecting his cock had split open, revealing a girthy slick blue cock. The bulbous head was slightly larger than the ridged shaft and, at what she presumed was at the base of his sac, was a knot. The scent that reached her made her shiver, a wave of arousal washing over her.

“Shit…” She panted. What was it about the heady scent that just seemed to make her wetter? She was certain Vergil could tell she was more than aroused, more than ready for him, but he restrained himself. “Veergill…” She whined.

“Yes, my love?”

“Nnn...please, just fuck me.” She panted. She could barely think, the heat at her core was almost overwhelming.  She faintly heard a soft but warm hum before the tip of his cock rubbed at her entrance. Her body burned with unbridled lust at the contact, a cry of pleasure ripped from her. The devil pushed the tip into her, earning breathy moans from his writhing mate. With the tip inside her, he paused and looked at her. Even with only the tip inside, he could sense her trying to pull him in. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. She reached up, holding tight onto his scaled body. She let out a whine as he pushed forward, sinking more of his cock into her. He could feel her walls squeeze and ripple around him, a sensation that made it difficult to not start thrusting right then and there. The devil let out a slow exhale, trying to not thrust with wild abandon, not yet.

Until she pulled him close, pressing her lips against his fangs. It did him in.

With an aroused growl, the devil began to thrust hard. He felt her legs hoist around his armored midsection. In the back of his mind, he knew she would come out of this scratched up. He would take care of that later, his mind too focused on the unbridled lust that was spurred on by her moans and cries of pleasure. His wings dug into the blanket below, growling as he thrust into her shaking form. The warmth that surrounded them felt as if it was pooling in his core, his thrusts devolving into short harsh movements. He panted as the knot at the base of his cock began to swell and with it, the oncoming orgasm.

“Vergil! I-I’m close!” He heard Cassandra pant. He could feel it, it was so close. With a final thrust, he pushed the knot into her and roared, warm seed pouring into her. With him, he heard her cry out and tense up around his knot, body shaking as her orgasm finally hit her. After a few tense moments, he felt her body go lax. He looked down, seeing her breathing heavily underneath him. His gaze moved down her body to her stomach, slightly swollen from the seed that he poured into her. If he was capable of blushing, he would be doing it. He stayed there for what felt like hours, the knot slowly deswelling. He pulled out, letting out a soft groan. Settling himself next to her, the devil disappeared with a flash of blue, revealing an exhausted flushed Vergil. She turned to him, reaching out to pull him into a brief kiss.

“Cassandra…” Vergil murmured. “I apologize-”

“Don’t.” She smiled at him. “That was...phew, that was something.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“Not much more than sore hips and some scratches, which isn’t a bad thing.” Cassandra slowly sat up, letting out a hiss. “Oof...can you go run a bath? I think I’ll be here for a bit…”

“And leave you alone? Never.” He swiftly picked her up, earning a hiss from her.

“Yowch! Jeez, rail my brains out and all that gentleman behavior goes out the window.”

“You were all for it.” He pointed out. She noticed the hint of a playful smile on his lips.

“Yeah yeah…” Cassandra waved her hand as he slipped back into the shop. Stepping into the bathroom, he laid her in the bathtub. He turned on the water, letting cool water pour from the faucet into the tub. “So, uh…” Vergil glanced at her. “Do I still smell of Draco?”

“No, thankfully.” Vergil sighed.

“Good. I’d rather smell of you than of an old bully.” Vergil wondered if she knew the implication of her words. He turned off the faucet. “I’ll be ok here, you should go get everything up on the roof.”

“Are you sure? It would be remiss if I left you her-”

“Vergil. I’ll be fine. I can bathe myself. You should get that basket of snacks and put it next to our bed so we can munch on those before dozing off.” Cassandra told him firmly. Vergil sighed and stood.

“As you wish.” He left the room. Cassandra went to work on bathing herself, humming softly. She swore she heard swift footsteps, perhaps Vergil pulling on some unknown demon ability. Super speed or something, she didn’t worry herself with it. She continued to wash her body.

“It’s done.” Cassandra jumped and looked up, seeing Vergil back by her side in pants. She stared at him, still shocked at his sudden appearance.

“...fucking hell.” She ran her hand through her damp hair. “I love you Vergil but there’s just some things that surprise me about you.” He chuckled at her mild frustration. Cassandra finished bathing and stepped out of the tub, right into a towel Vergil had for her. She leaned into his strong arms as he dried her body, relaxing. When her body was dry, she leaned against the wall as he drained the tub. As the tub drained, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to their bedroom.

“Would you like me to read to you?” He asked, setting her down on their shared bed.

“Of course.” She smiled at him. “But I’d like to hear some of your works.” Vergil blinked at her before nodding, sliding into bed next to her. He pulled out the notebook and allowed her to cuddle up against his side.

“As you wish, my wild rose.”

[bssaz97]

What do you think a Lancaster wedding would be like (also the last ask you answered was awesome thank you can’t wait for part 2)

Today was the day many in their group had been anticipating, the day they stopped being only two people, but one. It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, the clouds were minimal, and the wind was mild but not freezing. A large group was gathered together inside the auditorium of the newly reopened Beacon Academy, who are all here to see the most anticipated ceremony since the end of the Salem War. Most of the guests are friends and family of the bride and groom, but others are ones who have served in the line of duty alongside them and felt it necessary to show their support. Everything was going perfectly.

At the front of the auditorium stood the groom along with his best man, Lie Ren. The two awaits the arrival of the bride to be and her bridesmaids, all the while the groom is sweating up a storm in anticipation. He has waited for this moment for nearly a year and finally the day was here. At the age of 22, Jaune Arc would soon be married to the most special person in his life and his best friend of 5 years, Ruby Rose. Who would soon transition into being his wife after today.

Ren: *Nudges the blonde* Nervous?

Jaune: Yeah. You could say that again. Feels like facing against an army of ancient Grimm again. You know, in a good without the possibility of dying way.

Ren: I see.

Jaune: I can’t believe we’re finally at this day, I mean I knew it was coming eventually but to actually experience it...it’s unreal. You know, in a good way because I love Ruby and wouldn’t want to be here with any other person. Is it weird how much I’ve been looking forward to this day all month long? I mean it could just be wedding jitters but I can’t tell. Did you feel this way during your wedding day Ren? Because I could really-?

Ren: *Placed his hand on Jaune’s shoulder* Jaune, you’re rambling.

Jaune: Sorry.

Ren: *Chuckles* You’re fine. It’s your wedding so just relax and be yourself.

Jaune: *Laughs* Yeah I guess you’re right. I wonder if Ruby is holding up any better?

Meanwhile...

Ruby: Is it time to go out now?

Weiss: No.

Ruby: *Begins to tap heel* ...is it time now?

Yang: *Shakes head* Nope.

Ruby: *Tapping increases* .....how about now?

Blake: Not yet.

Ruby: .......now?

Weiss/Yang/Blake: NO!

Ruby: Gah! I’m sorry girls, I’m just so nervous!

Yang: Everything’s going to be fine Rubes. The word thing that could happen is if Vomit Boy leaves you at the alter. (Which he better not.)

Blake: What Yang is trying to say is; you have nothing to worry about.

Weiss: Besides having jitters on your wedding day is perfect normal.

Ruby: I suppose. I just feel like the anticipation is killing me though.

Nora: *Places hand on Ruby’s shoulder* Ruby. Do you remember how I was on my wedding day?

Ruby: Yeah. We barely got you out of the room that day you were so nervous. We had to pry you from the door. *Giggles*

Nora: And do you remember who it was that got me to walk down that aisle that day?

Ruby: I did. I gave you a speech about how it wasn’t the end of the world but-

Nora: ‘A new chapter of my life’. And you know what? I never regretted it since. Now, it’s my turn to help ya out sister.

Ruby: ...‘sniff’ Oh my gods Nora you’re gonna make me cry.

Weiss: Please don’t! I spend a good half hour getting her makeup just right!

Penny: Friends I believe its time for the ceremony to begin.

Yang: Ok, places girls!

Ruby: *Exhales* Alright show time.

//////Play this if you wish; Image its playing//////

https://youtu.be/fOymevxe1pI

The bride and her bridesmaids start on their way to the main door of the altar. It takes a few minutes but they finally make it to the main door, where Taiyang is waiting. Ruby walks up to her father and he smiles at her, small tears start to form but do not fall. The time for crying would come later. Besides he needed to keep his composure, he can’t afford to look break down on his little bud as he walks her down the aisle.

Taiyang: You ready?

Ruby: *Nods* I’m ready.

Taiyang: You look beautiful.

Ruby: *Smiles* Thank you Dad.

The two interlock their arms and prepared for the doors to open. It was almost time...

*Crrrreeeeaaaakkkk!*

The main doors of the room open, causing everyone in the auditorium to face towards the entrance. As it does, red and yellow rose petals descend from the ceiling and begin to cover the aisle in rose petals. The bride and her father, arms interlocked, starts to make their way down the aisle with her bridesmaids in tow. Everyone watches as the bride makes her way to the alter, but none more so than the groom himself. As he could not take his eyes off of her.

He recalls the time when he first happened to meet this woman in the courtyard of this very school. For the time he had been with Ruby, Jaune watched as she grew from the youthful, awkward, quirky girl he found in a crater into a strong, remarkable, and inspiring huntress of Remnant. Now, she had transcended once again into the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. Today she was adorned in a crimson A-Line/Princess wedding dress with additional armor (vambrace, corter, rerebrace) on each of her arms and a black sash around her waist. This was the woman he wished to spend the rest of his days with, his co leader and best friend, his Crater Face.

Ruby felt as her heart was pounding in her chest, the only thing she can focus on was keeping eye contact with her groom and husband to be, her first friend at Beacon. She recalls when he had helped her out of that crater that day, the one who became her friend when she all others left her behind and it was the boy who puked on her sister’s boots. She watched him as he went through his highest and lowest points in life, but continued to be by her side and help others despite his own suffering. He was no longer the clumsy, inexperienced, and dorky trainee she had met but rather evolved into Remnant’s Shining Knight. Jaune looked more and more like the knights of her childhood dreams, all of her hopes and wishes for him had come to fruition and now he would be taking her as his bride and wife to be.

As father and bride made it to the alter, the groom descends down the steps to meet them, while the bridesmaids walk up the alter to take their positions. Once Jaune meets the two, the two men smile at each other, then Taiyang lets go of his baby girl and hands her to Jaune. As the two interlock their arms, the bride and groom together walk up the steps to the alter. There waiting for them is the bridesmaids the best man and Glynda Goodwitch, the newly appointed headmistress of Beacon. The ceremony can now begin.

Glynda: Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Jaune Arc and Ruby Rose in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife. True marriage is more than joining the bonds of marriage of two persons; it is the union of two hearts. It lives on the love you give each other and never grows old, but thrives on the joy of each new day. Marriage is love. May you always be able to talk things over, to confide in each other, to laugh with each other, to enjoy life together, and to share moments of quiet and peace, when the day is done. May you be blessed with a lifetime of happiness and a home of warmth and understanding. Ruby Rose and Jaune Arc, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at some time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you, not just the part that seems wrong. In this way, you can survive the times when clouds drift across the face of the sun in your lives, remembering that, just because you may lose sight of it for a moment, does not mean the sun has gone away. And, if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight. May you always need one another, not to fill an emptiness, but to help each other know your fullness. May you want one another, but not out of lack. May you embrace one another, but not encircle one another. May you succeed in all important ways with each other, and not fail in the little graces. May you have happiness, and may you find it in making one another happy. May you have love, and may you find it in loving one another. Do you Jaune Arc, take Ruby Rose to be your lawfully wedded wife, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?

Jaune: I do mam.

Glynda: Do you Ruby Rose, take Jaune Arc to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?

Ruby: Yes, I do. *Nods*

Glynda: At this point the bride and groom can now speak say a few words.

The two turn to face one another, interlocking hands and looking into each others eyes.

Jaune: Ruby, for as long as I could remember you have always been with me at my best and at my worst and you have never turned me away. For this, I take you as my companion, my wife, and my love. I promise to care for you, honor you, and cherish you, for as long as we both shall love. Now and forever.

Ruby: ....Wow. ‘Sniff’ That totally beats what I was gonna say.

Jaune: *Wipes her growing tears* It’s ok Ruby, I bet I’ll like yours better.

Ruby: ‘Giggles’ Dork. Ok.....Jaune, you have stuck with me and been my pillar when I thought the world would collapse around me. You’ve never once stopped believing in me and you have no idea how much that means to me, not only as a huntress, a leader, but as a friend also. For this, I take you as my companion, my love, and my husband. I promise to stand by you, respect you, and love you with all my heart, for as long as we both shall love and to the next life.

Jaune: ..... ‘sniff’ Come on, that’s not playing fair. *Smiles*

Glynda: The ring bearer shall now come forth with the wedding bands.

From the side comes a four year old Adrian walking up carefully with the bands on a plush pillow. Once carefully walking up all the steps (causing many in the audience to coo and taking photos at the adorableness of it all) he waddles up to the giggling bride and smiling groom.

Jaune: Thanks buddy. *Rubs Adrians head.* Then he and Ruby give each other their wedding bands. One decorated to have a yellow lining with crimson metal surrounding it and one with a red lining with gold metal surrounding it.

Glynda: If any should object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace...... Really? No one at all?

Everyone: *Laughs*

Glynda: Very well, then by the power invested in me. I now pronounce you, Jaune Rose-Arc and Ruby Rose-Arc as husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.

Jaune: With pleasure.

The now husband and wife took hold of each other’s face and brought their lips together in a gentle but passionate embrace. Then a second gentle shower of orange rose petals descended from the alter as everyone in attendance stood up to applaud the newly weds.

-Fin-

That’s all I got to say about how a Lancaster marriage should go, but I would be happy either way. It took me a bit to think how I would envision this to happen so I hope you guys like it!

Also I got most of the wedding script (for Goodwitch’s lines) from smore.com if you’re wondering because for the life of me I couldn’t remember. But hope it’s lose enough.

Also Qrow and Raven are the ones dropping the rose petals. Btw.

[an-otome-cally-correct]

What Makes Petals Red

I gave the Hanahaki AU a whirl way back when, and I didn’t realize I never posted it lmaoo. If you wanna read more of my stuff, then check here.

It wasn’t all that strange for her to be sweeping up petals in the aftermath of a wedding. They came in all shapes and sizes, their colors ranging from the purest of whites to the richest of reds, only to be scattered to the most peculiar of places and crushed under the heels of the guests as they left.

Some would have landed along the aisle, blessing the bride as she stepped into a future where she would never stand alone, while some would have settled on the seats, thrown by an overly enthusiastic flower girl that likely dreamed of being a bride herself. Some would have fallen from the arrangements that adorned the venue, having lasted as long as they could without their roots to sustain them, while some would have been victims of a curious guest, cast aside once their curiosity had been sated.

Some of the petals would be found in a haphazard pile - always near the back seats, in one corner of the hall, away from view. Petals she’d clean up from that area of the venue were always coated with a strange glaze, staining them with a thick, deep red and filling the air with a sharp, ferric scent.

Whenever she spotted petals like those, she would pause, silently wishing for even the slightest bit of peace for the heart left forever broken by the ceremony, and then she would continue with her job, sweeping up those odd petals and throwing them away with the rest of the garbage.

It wasn’t all that strange.

It wasn’t all that strange to find traces of the Flower Disease at a wedding.

The seasons she spent assisting her aunt with the family’s wedding organizing services had numbed her to the symptoms of the Flower Disease. The sight of red splattered across crushed petals, the scent of iron lingering in the air, the sound of laboured breaths in the distance - they might have once alarmed her, but nowadays, they were simply part of the business. There were no questions left to be asked.

Except sometimes, she couldn’t help but wonder. 

When faced with a woman on her knees, crying her heart out while petals and blood escaped her lips with every sob. When faced with a man staining both the walls and the floor red with every punch of frustration and plea of desperation. When faced with an elder nearing the end of their days and yet still seeing the reminder of their hopeless affection each time their weakened lungs threatened to give out. 

Sometimes, she couldn’t help but wonder why a broken heart would attend such an event, why anyone would watch a ceremony that only proved their unrequited feelings, why a person would subject themselves to that much suffering, why red would stain those petals-- But those moments of wonder were fleeting, and she never came to understand.

Frankly, she never hoped to understand.

It was easier that way.

A moment’s pity was all she could afford, and then she was onto the next assignment her aunt gave her. Only, the next wedding for them to plan was a special one.

The King of Hearts was to be married to Alice the Second, and the Queen of Hearts himself was going to oversee all aspects of the ceremony. From the flowers, to the food, to the music, to the seating - Jonah Clemence had a say in it, and although her aunt had been in the business long enough to know how to deal with such… personalities, she didn’t nearly have enough patience nor self-control. The couple themselves were pleasant people, but any decision that needed to be made would no doubt sprout a debate between the Queen and herself.

It then came to a point that working with him made progress impossible, and both she and her aunt agreed that, for the sake of the wedding’s success, she needed to take a step back. She gladly did so, relieved to be rid of the migraine-inducing Queen, but her newfound peace was short-lived. Not a day after she resigned from the assignment, Jonah Clemence marched into her aunt’s office, demanding that she be reinstated.

She vehemently refused, but then the Queen launched into the clumsiest, most roundabout speech about how much he trusted her judgement, and appreciated her input, and admired her verve, and all other sorts of sweet - yet utterly embarrassing - things, and she had never been so flustered in her entire life. By the end of it, they were both red with embarrassment, and she was certain both their hearts were hammering in their chests, a small voice in the back of her mind wishing it was for the same reasons.

After a declaration like that, she couldn’t possibly refuse, not that she wanted to anymore, and she came to see him in a new light. Jonah Clemence was still annoying, but tolerable. He still challenged her every decision, but it wasn’t out of malice or distrust like she had initially assumed. It was only out of the pure, simple want for two dear people in his life to have the wedding they deserve, and she was determined to make it happen, not just for the couple, but also for the person so fervently supporting them.

Days, weeks and months of planning, and the Queen of Hearts was always present for everything. He had turned into such a common presence that it almost felt… lonely walking the streets of Cradle without hearing him comment on a flower shop’s arrangements, or a restaurant’s menu, or a clothing brand’s aesthetic. She’d find herself counting the minutes before she could see him again, enjoying every second she was with him, dreading the hours when he was away, and as the date of the wedding drew nearer, she realized she didn’t want to spend her days without him beside her.

She realized she had fallen in love, and she swore that once the King of Hearts’ wedding was over, she’d tell him how she felt, but when the ceremony ended and all the guests had moved out into the Garden for the reception, she spotted a trail those odd petals again - crushed and bloodied, purposefully kicked to the side in a poor attempt to hide them.

Immediately, she picked up a broom to dispose of them. She had promised the Queen of Hearts that nothing would ruin this day for the King and his wife, and leaving such a tragic sight like those stained petals in plain view would simply not do. So, she swept them away as she usually would, only, she didn’t find a haphazard pile at the end of the trail.

It was Jonah Clemence, crouched down with tears streaming down his face, blood trickling from his lips and hands holding onto crushed petals.

“Jonah?” she quietly called out, his name escaping her before she could think of what to say.  The Queen froze at the sound of her voice, but whatever fear or shame he might have felt was forgotten as another coughing fit racked his body. Quickly, she pulled out a handkerchief from her skirts and dropped to her knees so she could wipe away the tears and the blood from his face, all the while whispering gentle words to soothe him.

“You did your best, Jonah,” she quietly told him as she began using the sleeves of her own dress, her handkerchief not nearly enough to contain his grief. “I’m certain you did your best.”

“All I wanted… was, was for them to be happy. The both of them,” he stammered in between stifled sobs and bursts of petals. “If they found happiness, I was… I-I was certain I would be happy as well, but… but why aren’t I?”

Watching him crumble like all those that came before him, she could feel her eyes prickle with her own tears for she knew full well that his affections were a lost cause, and with how helpless his situation was, the only thing she could offer was a shoulder to cry on. She had never hoped to understand the reasons as to why broken hearts still attended weddings, but with him in her arms, she realized it could only be love.

Love-- Not the kind of love that had one wanting their beloved for themselves, but the kind of love that had one wanting their beloved to be happy. 

Pure. 

Selfless. 

Tragic.

“I’m sorry, Jonah,” she whispered, pulling the stubborn man into an embrace, not caring for the tears and blood that would stain her dress, ignoring the ice that crept up her own heart. “You deserve happiness. You deserve so much love and joy and I’m so, so sorry it had to be this way.”

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, on the floor in each other’s arms, with her running a hand up and down his back in an effort to soothe him while she herself fought to keep all her raging emotions in check. They only parted when someone came looking for the Queen of Hearts, and she did the best she could to make him presentable once more. He was still coughing up petals, but he was in a much better state than he was several minutes ago.

“Thank you,” he told her, quiet and sincere, as he held both her hands in his. “I apologize for letting you see me in such a disgraceful state, and ruining your dress, but… thank you for staying with me.” Gently, he squeezed her hands, and a warm expression graced his features. His eyes were red and swollen from the tears, but the smile he wore was nothing short of radiant. “I wish for your own happiness, as well…”

She managed a chuckle. “Didn’t you once say my ‘uncouth behaviour’ would scare every man I meet?”

“Only those that don’t deserve you,” he cheekily added, giving her hands one last reassuring squeeze before letting go. “Although if you do come across a man who doesn’t fear you, I would have to meet him myself. I can’t trust your judgement when it’s clouded by your emotions.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “In other words, you need to check if he’s good enough for me.” If she had heard those words before the wedding, it would have sent her heart somersaulting, but now, there was only a dull throb and a bitter taste in her mouth.

Rather than a usual roundabout reply, he just simply smiled. “I truly wish you all the best.”

She offered him a smile of her own, praying that it didn’t betray her. “And I, you.” She allowed herself a moment to savour the warm moment before gently pushing her hands against his chest. “Now go on, go. How dare you keep the King of Hearts waiting.”

“What about you?”

“I just need to finish up here, and I’ll be out shortly.”

“I suppose saving you a seat wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

With a shake of her head, she snorted. “I’d appreciate it if you’d do me that favor.” Satisfied with her response, the Queen of Hearts stalked out of the hall and joined the rest of the crowd.

Once alone, she picked up the broom again and attempted to finish disposing of the stained petals that littered the ground, only for something to catch in her throat and forcing her to cough into her palm. When she pulled her hand away, she found petals coated with her own blood. She stared at them for a long while before tossing them with the rest of the petals that needed to be disposed. 

For her to be sweeping up petals like those in the aftermath of a wedding...

It wasn’t all that strange.

[mysticmelove]

Jumin week- day 6:

Domesticity/ Future

(Continuation of day 1)

.

May 15th. The date was imprinted in his mind, its importance only rivalled by that of their wedding day. The birth of his first child. His daughter. Jieun was a spitting image of her mother from the second she was born, and Jumin could never forget the joy on his wife’s face as she first held her- her eyes stained with tears. She had been right all those months ago, when she had only humoured about their child being a girl, and he couldn’t have been happier.

He would never have seen it in his own future, but Jumin’s life became a painted picture of pure domesticity within only a matter of days. The penthouse was soon a mess of newborn’s clothes, blankets, cloths, and empty bottles; the thought of it would have once irked him but it all felt like home now. His work had taken a back seat since they’d come home, his priorities were to his family- his angels. That being said, his little angel only spent most of her time sleeping. MC was trying her best to encourage Jieun into a schedule but she was stubborn- much like her father. Two weeks at home and it was just a constant cycle of feeding and sleeping, with no routine whatsoever. Yet, he watched as his wife soldiered on through, waking at every hour their daughter demanded in order to be the best mother possible.

It must have been the first time, since they’d come home, that Jieun hadn’t awoken the two before the sun had risen, her little lungs crying out and belting for the attention of her parents. Instead, Jumin had woken up to the morning sunlight seeping through the cracks of the blinds. MC was asleep peacefully at his side, in a deeper sleep than he’d seen her in in quite some time, and their daughter sound asleep in her bassinet beyond their bed. His fingers traced the outline of his wife’s facial features, moving the many lose strands of hair from her face and behind her ear. The bags under her eyes were so very apparent but he adored her nonetheless. He was so very careful in his movements, shifting his way out of the bed and minding MC’s frail figure. Silently, he changed into what had become his daily wear: T-shirts and casual joogers, the odd pair stained from something or another.

Jumin carried the bassinet through to the living room, his eyes unshifting from the newborn as she stirred within her blanket. The last thing he wanted was to disturb her, moreover he didn’t want to wake MC either. She was more than deserving of a rest, some peace and quiet while he did his part. He placed her down cautiously, before retrieving a book and sitting on the sofa beside the cradle.

However, it wasn’t long before his daughter started calling for his attention once again. He hadn’t even gotten through a chapter before she’d started stirring, her tiny facial features scrunched together and her arms begging to be freed from her swaddle. Jumin sighed as he placed down the book, his hands moving to unwrap Jieun and wish her a good morning. He whispered to her, his voice delicate as she yawned and brought her tiny hands to her mouth, “Good morning, Princess. Have you been daddy’s good girl?” His fingers tickled at her cheeks, though the furrowing of her brows still continued. “Oh, Princess... Please don’t cry.” Jumin picked her up with the upmost care, cradling her in his arms and cooing gently. “You don’t want to wake mummy now, do you?”

“She’s awake,” the sound of MC’s groaning filled the room. Jumin looked to her as she stretched her arms out, her clothes strewed, and her head rolling from one side to another. “I’ll take her,” she yawned heavily, an exhausted smile on her face as she stretched out her arms to her husband.

“I wanted you to rest, my love.”

MC smiled at the sight, her husband hushing their newborn with the most gentle touch- one she didn’t know he could possess until Jieun had came along. He had taken to being a father well and no one could deny that. “I am rested,” she protested quietly, sitting down beside the two, “She’s going to want feeding anyway– Aren’t you, sweetheart?” MC toyed her finger around her hands, Jieun clenching at it delicately.

He could only sigh at her, her words laced with nothing but the truth. “Fine... but let me take her once you’re done. I don’t want you to over work yourself.” She nodded as Jumin passed her over gently, her eyes locked on the baby but she felt the warmth and presence of her husband all too well. He left her side once they’d settled, turning back for a brief second before he went to disappear back into the bedroom.

“Jumin,” she called to him moderately, her voice warm and full of love. He turned back to her, humming with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you...” she mumbled tenderly: “for the lie-in.”

He laughed ever so slightly, a proud grin spread across he tried features. “Your welcome, my love.”