#and the descriptions about our wedding traditions
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And we found this catalogue of the Splendid World of Needle Art Exhibition held in 1999 in honour of the Romanian Year in Japan (which I had no idea about!) at the Museum’s Gift Shop.
#my entries#I love the little introduction about Queen Marie#and the descriptions about our wedding traditions#(or what they once were)#wow there was such a thing as a Romanian Year in Japan#in Japan!?#and I've just realised I have photos of Queen Marie's dress up close on my camera roll from two years ago#maybe I'll upload those here too
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Yule Ball [PT.1]
Summary: Your husband is teaching his snakes to dance. You decide to meet them on this occasion formally.
Word Count: 1733~
A/N: This was longer than I expected and I also meant to publish this after You but I finished this one first. Enjoy! I know I did.
“The Yule Ball has been a tradition conducted before the formal beginning of the first tasks in the Triwizard Tournament,”
His deep voice echoed throughout the expansive space as he walked around. Each Head of House was assigned to teach their students the waltz for the Ball. His Slytherins didn’t know that though.
“On Christmas Eve, we and our guests take time to gather at the Great Hall for a night of respectable frivolity by engaging in a dance,” Severus announced, the students groaned, “We may loathe to participate in such an endeavor, however, as a member of the House of Salazar Slytherin, I expect every one of you to be on your best behavior,”
“At the end of this session, you should be able to not stupidly slither and slip across the Great Hall,” Severus said,
You laughed.
Your laughter easily echoed in the hollow expanse of the room. Their attention suddenly turned to you by the entryway. Despite their whispers, you could hear their words. Who is she? What’s she doing here?
Severus turned. His stoic facade was unchanged in your presence.
“You sounded like Minerva just then,” you said, walking over, “She said something about her Gryffindors becoming a babbling bumbling band of baboons,”
“Did she?” he remarked, “How would you know that?”
“I was there lurking in the hall,” you answered, standing by his side, “They said that you may need help teaching your Slytherins to dance,”
“They?”
“You know, Albus,” you dropped names, “And, Minerva.”
“Those two meddling…” he sighed, the students watched on, “They sent me an incentive as if I need any,”
“Oh, so, I should go?” you walked towards the door, but one of his arms pulled you back, “See you want me here,”
“I always want you, my dear,” Severus said. Your cheeks heated up at the compliment. He whispered into your ear, “You know that,”
“I did bring gifts,” you remembered, pulling a pouch from the pocket of your robes, “Your favorite dark chocolate and gobstoppers,”
“You are an angel, my dear,” he said, raising a palm, “May I?”
“Later,” you said, and pocketed it, he nearly pouted, “For dessert after practice. You, Mister, have students to teach,”
“Shall I introduce you?” he observed them, silently squirming in their seats from curiosity, “I think we tortured them long enough,”
“Was it truly long enough though?” you chuckled.
He offered his arm to you, which you gladly accepted, as both of you faced the crowd of curious students. Their attention was focused as Severus commanded the room.
“Slytherins, quiet!” Severus bellowed, “It gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce to you, my wife, Madame Snape,”
Among the possibilities, their Head of House married was not one they considered.
Their voices were in an uproar of surprise, disbelief, and shock, especially a platinum blonde-haired teenage boy you knew from description as your husband’s godson, Draco Malfoy. Your ears could hear a faint There’s no way, even father doesn’t even know from his mouth.
“It’s nice to meet everyone,” you gently smile, and silently hope that they calmed down, “I thought you should get the courtesy of meeting me first in private rather than amongst other students at the Yule Ball,”
They were speechless. You were nice. The exact opposite of their Head of House.
“You’re going to attend the Yule Ball?” one of the girls dared to ask,
“Yes, I will,” you answered, “Barring any conflict of schedule, I should be there,”
The girls giggled. You were glad.
“Does this mean I can wear my wedding ring more often?” he asked you, lifting his left hand to gaze at it, “I did forget to remove it today, though, I don’t believe any of them noticed,”
“Or they were too afraid of you to say anything about it,” you answered, and exchanged knowing looks, “And, do wear your ring I’d love to hear, and for you to see your other students’ reaction,”
“That can be arranged,” he agreed, and turned to the students, “To resume our activities,”
They sighed. They thought your presence would be a sufficient distraction for him to forget about the task at hand.
“We will be teaching you how to waltz,” he started, “We shall demonstrate, and then after you will pair yourselves,”
“My lady,” Severus formally bowed and offered a hand, “Shall we?”
“Oh, am I part of this?” you teased, acting as if you wouldn’t take it, “Why, I’d be honored, good sir,”
His gentle but firm grip guided you to the center of the floor where every student could get a good view of what both of you were doing.
“Face your partners a foot apart, hold her hand then place the other on her waist,” he emphasized, doing so, “Not anywhere else,”
On the swish of his wand, the pin dropped and the turn table started to play the music.
“The steps are quite simple and gentlemen do pay attention you will be guiding the ladies,” he started the box step, which you just mirrored, “Do imagine you are creating a box on the ground. Your left foot forward, the other to the side, together, back, and repeat,”
“Ladies, you mirror what your partner is doing. If he steps, forward you step back,”
With you in his arms, his stern appearance disappeared. His body relaxed, movements fluid and precise as both of you seemed to glide across the floor.
His students watched in awe and amusement as both of you passed by. There’s an intimacy in the way he moves you, and in a single moment, they catch a glimpse of a smile on his face unexpectedly twirling you around.
“Show off,” you whispered,
“For you,” he quietly said, “Always,”
Your cheeks heated up at the statement.
It wasn’t long until the music and both of you stopped. You both bow to each other after as he addressed his students.
“Find your partners and don’t dally we don’t have all day,” he instructed, as the boys started to stand, “Those who find themselves with no partners will start with one of us and then will switch to other students,”
They quickly partnered up after that.
The older girls were afraid of being partnered up with him. The boys, however, would gladly be partnered up with you.
“You will get a minute of detention for each time you step on her toes or mine. Trust that we will be counting, and,” he warned, “Should I hear any sound of pain escape her lips you will be in detention for the week regardless of the number of times you stepped on her,”
“And should any one of you succeed in not stepping on my toes,” you added, “You’ll get to try the other candy I brought back from America,”
Their eyes lit up in anticipation at your words. They became a bit scared but eager not to mess up as the first young male Slytherin came up to you.
“Hello,” you introduced yourself, “What’s your name?”
You both exchanged pleasantries as he placed the appropriate distance and hand on your waist before the music started.
“You’re more likely to mess up if nervous so relax,” you said, as the music started, and you saw Severus glaring at the student in your arms, “Talk to me about anything to take your mind off it,”
“Oh, Professor Snape is the most…” he started to ramble off.
His feet did brush yours from time to time but no real painful step landed. Once he started talking about your husband, and the subjects he liked, he relaxed and the steps came more naturally.
“Excellent,” you said, “Now do that at the Yule Ball and you’ll be fine,”
You and Severus managed to dance with half the class before the bell rang to their relief.
There were some unfortunate enough to have two left feet which caused you to yelp effectively earning a week of detention. Others would be in detention for half an hour at least, and two hours at the most. Those fortunate to get it right were rewarded by the stash of no-maj candy you brought.
“Thank you, Professor Snape,” one student said, the other followed, “And thank you, Madame Snape!”
Slowly, the students thanked you and your husband and waved goodbye as they ran to the hall on their way to their next class.
“Must you give the whole stash?” Severus asked, the other pouch given away, “They’ll be insufferable for the rest of the day,”
“Those were extras. I refilled our stash at home,” you said, which caused him to perk up, “Don’t worry,”
You started to walk toward the door to leave but his arms wrapped around you, and refused to let go.
“Where do you think you’re going?” his lips at the nape of your neck, “Hmmm?”
“Leaving,” you said, “We’re done, aren't we?"
“No, we’re not,” he kissed your shoulder, and with a swish of his wand the music started again, “May I?”
His hand offered once again which you didn’t hesitate to take.
“Always,” you said, as he guided you once again, “You are and always will be my first and last,”
His defenses shattered at those words. His lips curled into a smile. His hands pulled you closer than you could ever be. His scent, the musk of old leather, fresh parchment, and sandalwood engulfed your senses.
In the emptiness of the room, there were no words exchanged. There was only the two of you against the world. Your feet followed his in harmony. Your robes and his flowed behind your backs.
Forward. Side. Together. Back. Again. A Twirl that caused you to laugh. Warming his heart.
So lost in the moment, both of you didn’t notice Draco and his friends enraptured by the intimate performance.
Once the music had stopped, you both briefly pulled away and bowed but after he’d recovered, he pulled you in.
“Sev, what—“
His lips fell on yours gently together. Rough but warm against soft and supple. His arms were around you, protective, possessive. You lean into the comfort of his touch. A soft moan escaped your lips.
“I love you,” you said, as you pulled away.
“I love you too,”
NEXT >>
#severus snape#severus snape x reader#hp#harry potter#severus snape fanfiction#snape#professor snape#hogwarts#fanfiction#snape x you#severus snape x you
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Blessed
Summary: Diavolo x gn!reader. You bring the angels with you to break the news of your upcoming marriage to your super religious parents.
CW: technically parents are religious, but I don't dig too deeply into it. Just the part where they wouldn't like you marrying the prince of hell.
A/N: This came into being because I was thinking about how I'd break the news to my parents if I was marrying Dia. I realized I'd probably have to lie my ass off.
You had calmly explained to Dia that it would be far easier to just… pretend that you weren't together. Your family was already on edge from the random bursts of time you disappeared. But the last thing your super religious parents would want to hear was that part of the reason was that you were the future king of hell’s fiance.
But no. Dia wanted to do the human tradition of “meeting the parents.” And whatever Dia wanted, Dia got, through whining, charm, and sheer stubbornness. What for him was a quirky little human tradition, for you was an incredibly stressful event.
To be fair to your parents, if the roles were reversed, and your child disappeared for months at a time and came back with a fiance, you'd be concerned. So you put some “protections” in place. You hoped it wouldn't come to it, but Simeon and Luke were going to be there. Just in case.
It wasn't going well. You, Diavolo, Simeon, and Luke, all sat awkwardly on the sofa while your parents gave you a stern glare.
“Getting married? Where did you two meet?”
You'd told Dia what he could and couldn't say. You knew he couldn't lie, so you told him to keep his mouth shut. If his lineage came up…oh God. You didn't want to think about it.
“Is he the reason you keep disappearing?”
“Y/N, if you're in trouble,” one of them gently grabbed your hands, staring in your eyes, “you can tell us. We'll get you out of it.”
“And who's the kid?”
“I'm Luke! I'm a friend of Y/N’s!” He said happily, excited to be noticed.
“Well, it's all rather suspect,” one of them said, leveling another glare at Dia, who was simply smiling happily. “I can't support this marriage.”
“I assure you, I will take excellent care of Y/N,” he said happily.
“Again, rather suspect.”
“I have quite a bit of money. Y/N will want for nothing for the rest of their life!”
“And yet their family doesn't seem to be invited to the wedding.”
“Simeon,” you whined to the angel, who sighed and nodded to Luke.
“Please, we know you have reason to be alarmed. But we have been given a message,” Simeon said, Luke nodding along. The two of them stood up, and the room was filled with a blinding light. What your eyes could see and understand, were what you'd been told biblical angels might look like. Yet even that description was off. You just couldn't comprehend the forms in front of you.
“Be not afraid,” Luke ‘spoke’, though more accurately, he sang in a chorus of angelic tones.
“Our Father has sent us with a message. This union has been arranged and blessed by the heavenly Father himself,” Simeon spoke.
Not exactly false. When word had got out that you, an all powerful, dangerous, product of three realms, were dating the Lord of Hell, they'd all but demanded marriage. Perhaps it was a diplomatic move, maybe it was a way to keep you in check, but the Celestial Realm had pushed far harder than the demon lords who'd opposed a marriage.
This was your last ditch effort. If literal angels couldn't convince your parents, Dia had been instructed to get all of you out of there, then order Barbatos to take you all slightly back in time before you had told your parents.
“We promise to guard and guide your child, as our Father has instructed us to care for them,” Luke said.
If your parents dug into this, asking the whys and hows, you'd be fucked. But the awestruck look on their faces told you they were buying it. They seemed to be crying with joy.
Simeon smiled warmly, then him and Luke returned to their regular forms, meaning you could actually look at them. Luke seemed smug, and Simeon seemed relieved.
Your parents tune seemed to have changed completely, now saying only good things about the marriage, eagerly asking if there was any way they could be a part of it, asking Dia all about himself, certain he had to be a good person to have been literally chosen by God for their child.
You sighed in relief as the angels took most of the questions. Dia smiled brightly next to you.
“That went so well! Perhaps I can show them my true form!” You dug your nails into his hand as you and the angels now lied your asses off about what that meant. All while Dia smugly laughed.
....
Tag list- @eccedentesiast-sapphic @your-next-daydream
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Can u do a pt. 2 of the fic whit female Lucerys Velaryon? It would be wonderful see a description of their wedding nights (smut pls if u feel comfortable, if not avoid ❤️❤️
AN- This is the first time I am writing smut so pardon me if it's not upto the mark. Also, I went quite filthy I guess but it's Aemond we are talking about...
Being Rhaenyra's Daughter and Having to Marry Aemond...
Part 1
Warning- Smut [Non-con to Dub-con, Fingering (fem!receiving), Breeding Kink, Pinning, Loss of Virginity, Choking, Dirty Talking!], Forced marriage.
GIF Credits to @terendelev
You woke up with sore muscles and to a strange chamber. The bed was fluffy and soft; pillows fluffed and cozy.
What caught your eyes was the colour green; everything from the bedsheets to the curtains and the few tapestries which depicted Aegon the Conqueror and his wives.
The panic was setting in your bone and before you could do anything, the door opened and in came the Green Queen. Alicent Hightower.
"I am so glad that you are awake, my dear."
The panic turned into anger which soon turned into desperation of freedom when she decided to speak again.
"The Small Council has decided that it shall be perfect to marry you to Aemond; to try and unite your family with ours."
Only three days later, you were sat on the vanity; being pampered by the handmaidens, decked in dozens of jewel and hidden behind the silks of green.
The marriage took place in the throne room, with all the houses favoring the Greens present.
Otto Hightower escorted you, walking you down the aisle, to the boy you had once maimed.
Only then you were regretting not slashing both of his eyes.
But it was too late.
The marriage took place as is accepted in the Seven; instead of the traditional Valyrian marriage sealed in blood and fire.
But you were glad it happened that way.
Because a marriage in the Seven can be annulled.
"I am his and he is mine, until the end of his days."
No body but Aemond noticed the modulation in your vow.
The feast following it was small.
And it ended with Aegon drunkenly announcing the start of Bedding Ceremony.
"No man shall touch my wife except for me."
You were escorted to your new chambers by your new husband.
Once inside, the seriousness of the matter heightened until his fingers found the lace holding your dress together.
You had squealed, trying to escape the tight grip of his hand on your waist as he unlaced her dress.
"I am not going to bed you!"
"No one asks for your permission."
Once in your chemise, you were thrown on the bed, with his weight caging you between him and the bed.
You tried to push him away but his hand quickly found yours, pinning you down either your hands above you.
His empty hand raised your chemise to your waist, revealing your lower body to his prying eyes.
Long fingers found your core, a long stroke evoking a sharp breath and a choked gasp.
"Stop!"
"If I did, then the deed would be even more painful."
Rubbing the center of your pleasure, unwantingly moans escaped your throat, pleasing Aemond a lot.
His finger dipped inside you, burying it in your heat and stretching your tight hole.
"Relax yourself and you might like it as well."
As much as you wanted to remain unfazed, it was hard with a burning pleasure coiling inside your lower stomach.
The add of his second finger burned, his thumb continously rubbing her clit; pulling out moan with every single thrust of his fingers.
You came on his fingers; ashamed of yourself.
And then, you saw Aemond undress himself; a perfect chance to run if you used your agility
But the immense pleasure left your body exhausted and granted your lower body inability to walk.
The struggle returned to your body when you realized what was to happen.
And noticing it, Aemond's one hand pined you to the bed with a hand around your throat, which applied enough pressure to cut of half of your breathing; getting rid of his breeches quickly.
Your body tensed as the pain coursed through your veins, only for you to realize that the true torture has just began.
He was big and hard to accommodate.
"You are mine now."
Your virginal blood coated his cock; forever spoiling you for any other lord.
His thrusts were slow and calculated at the start and quite uncomfortable for you.
But soon the pain turned into pleasure and moans spilled from your lips before you could catch them.
And Gods! Did your husband had a dirty mouth.
"I will make you mine. Spoil you for any lord."
"My sweet little whore, aren't you like your mother. So wet, even for your enemy."
"What would your family say when they see you, carrying my child."
"Gods, you are so tight for me. Just perfect. And how beautiful, befit for a prince like me."
His fingers balled in your brown hair, pulling them ever so slightly as he forced you to look him in his eye.
The eyepatch wasn't present and you were met with the glistening sapphire.
His lips groaned and grunted near your ears, speaking filthy words which only seemed to turn you on.
"I will spill in your sweet cunt."
"You will give me heirs and let me fucj you as I see fit."
"I will make such a good whore of you that your mother would be proud of you."
That night when the boy was done, you were barely able to speak and a limp in your walk for the entire week that followed.
And soon enough, you were indeed with a child.
#house targaryen#hotd imagine#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond headcanons#aemond targaryen headcanons#aemond x y/n#aemond one eye#house of the dragon aemond#aemond one shot
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Howdy! I've got another poly AziraCrow x reader request for you, if you're interested
Ineffable husbands with a non-binary s/o who constantly gets misgendered and deadnamed during the holiday season since they're around family n stuff?
Ik its not malicious and it's out of habit but man, it's not great for dysphoria. Trying to disconnect myself from that so I don't hold it against anyone but. Idk. Sorry for rambling lol.
Sending love 💚
Their Name - Ineffable Husbands x GN!Reader
Boy, oh, boy this hit close to home. So basing a lot of the house descriptions/holiday traditions on my family.
Ineffable Husbands snapping at Reader’s family
He/Him for Aziraphale || She/He/They for Crowley
Great Room - the spare room usually adjacent to the living room, typically where the foyer enters into.
There was a lot you couldn’t tell your family. How your husbands were actually ethereal beings well over six thousand years old, how Aziraphale found a miracle that would help you to live forever alongside them, or how Crowley was the serpent they so often cursed in Sunday Service. But there was one thing you made crystal-fucking-clear, your name and gender identity. You came out as non-binary almost four years ago, telling your family how you wanted them to refer to you in only neutral terms.
You had met Aziraphale and Crowley a year after that, marrying them in secret two years later, just the past spring. Crowley had told you how they used all pronouns, so your favorite pastime was to call him your wife when using he/him pronouns. Aziraphale told you that he preferred he/him but wasn’t opposed to they/them if it was to put a bigot in place. That if he chose to present as a woman again for the first time in thousands of years then he would update such choices. Just a small family the three of you were.
Meeting them had been perfect for your mental health, you weren’t ready to date anyone, and a rainy day led to you stepping into the red and gold bookshop, with plants scattered about, books older than time itself, an angel and a demon running it. And they took you in without a second thought.
“Darling, you seem lost in thought,” Aziraphale broke you from your thoughts, your bottom lip sore from chewing it in stress. “What is it that troubles you?” You looked at him in the rear view mirror, smiling softly as you felt Crowley’s hand on your thigh.
“Just nervous, and feeling bad. I want to tell them about us, all three of us, and yet I’m too scared…” your family wasn’t the most open to anything outside of heteronormative, including polyamory unfortunately, leaving Aziraphale to be the “best friend/co-worker”, he had actually volunteered the title, saying it would look better for Crowley to be your husband since he appeared closer to your age than the white haired Angel did.
“Don’t fret, I know it’s not ideal, but we can pretend for one night.” Aziraphale reassured, his blue eyes seeming brighter despite the dim light in the Bentley.
“We’re here, love.” Crowley said, parking behind your uncle’s familar white SUV. “You two ready?” You looked over to Crowley and nodded, unbuckling and turning back in your seat to give Aziraphale his final kiss of the night.
Immediately you wanted to slink back into the Bentley when you heard a chorus of your deadname being yelled through the house, directing Aziraphale to the dessert table to place the Eccles cake while you set down the ancient wine bottle with the other drinks.
“This is Anthony,” you introduced your husband to your family, he was dressed in their gray button up with his red tie, black blazer and slacks. “And this is our dearest friend Azira.” Aziraphale was done up in his usual outfit except he traded out the faded waistcoat for a newer one.
“What a pity we couldn’t attend the wedding, but I suppose (s)he’s always done things his/her own way.” Your mom said, feigning innocence as your hand tightened on Crowley’s.
“Ah, yes, I suppose that’s what drew me to them. Their fierce determination.” Crowley glared slightly, a faux grin on her lips as they enunciated your pronouns. That was how the night would continue, both Crowley and Aziraphale determinedly trying to correct your family through their own speech.
“That’s it!” Aziraphale was the first to snap, seeing tears in your eyes as he sat across from you at the dining table, luckily the children were eating in the great room, the tv playing football flickered at his outburst. “I have absolutely had it with you lot misgendering them! They told you four years ago that they preferred gender neutral terms and informed you of their very legal name change, what is so hard to accept?”
When your mom went to speak, Crowley interrupted. “Nope, wrong answer there, see it’s not that hard, maybe in the beginning, to adjust, to try. But you lot never tried, did you? Instead our partner here is almost in tears, they were stressed about even coming, but unlike you all, they value you. And yes, I said our partner. Azira is not just a friend, in fact he’s as much their husband as I am.” Crowley rose from her chair and offered you their hand, which you gratefully took, letting him guide you out of the house with Aziraphale following behind you.
“I’m sorry, that was improper and I know that-” Aziraphale stammered out, feeling like he messed up but being cut off when you suddenly hugged him, laughing softly against his shoulder.
“Don’t you dare apologize, did you see their faces? That was so worth it, I have you two, and we’re a big enough family for me.” Aziraphale hugged you back tightly and kissed the side of your head, you felt Crowley press against your back, joining your hug and kissing Aziraphale.
“Happy Christmas, loves.”
“Happy Christmas, dear.”
“Happy Christmas, little devil.”
#good omens#crowley#tdkab#thedemonknownasbilly#aziraphale#good omens s2#aziracrow#anthony j crowley#aziraphale x crowley#azicrow#gn!reader#gn reader#crowley x aziraphale#ineffable husbands x reader#good ineffable omens#ineffable spouses#ineffable husbands#crowley x you#crowley x reader#aziraphale x you#aziraphale x reader#x reader#anon ask#request#reqs open
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coaxed you into paradise - c. 21
Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.
(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)
masterlist for this series
Chapter Twenty-One: Blood of Two
“Take my hand in marriage. I’ll marry you in the sight of our gods.” he offered, reaching to cup her face. “Be my wife, bear more of my children. If it is revenge that you seek - I will be your servant.” he professes, not wanting to freely love his niece. “I have a husband, Daemon.” She reasons, staring deep into his dark-purple orbs.
“My blood flows for you. I won’t mind being your second husband - as long as I am the first in your heart.” he whispered in return, hoping that she’d listen to him. They were Valyrians - carved in the same fire that sought to destroy the world. They were beyond the laws of men.
—
All those years of torment brought them back to Dragonstone. The yearning and longing combined led them back to each other’s arms. Saera takes a deep breath - eyes meeting those of her twin children.
“What about father?” Alyssa asked, eyes swelling with tears. She leans down to their level, cupping both of their faces with her hands. “My children,” she began and the girl crossed her arms. There was no love between Harwin and Saera, both of them knew it - but their children didn’t know that.
“Do you spurn me?” she asked, staring deep into her daughter’s eyes. Alyssa’s gaze softened. “I am not the mother that I wish I was.” she confessed with a deep breath, “- and I have wronged you, all your lives.” she added, a single tear flowing down her eyes - she had her children too young. She didn’t realize that she was still oblivious to the world in those times.
“I don’t understand you, muña.” Alyssa admitted. Saera gives her a bitter smile. “You both wonder why you look more Targaryens than your cousins.” Saera’s left hand returned to her necklace, opening her right hand further - pulling the children so they’d be embracing her.
She inhales their scent - of honeyed limes and cinnamon. Her children and her blood. The fruits of her soul. She wanted to tell them about their real paternity - but she fought upon that thought seeing that they were still children.
“Daemon will not replace your father, I promise.” she kissed the top of both their heads. “The conqueror had two wives, did he love one of them more than the other?” she questioned and the Twins shook their heads.
—
The traditions of Valyria were lost in time - but not lost to Daemon and Saera. Weddings of Old Valyria were typically simple and modest, they didn’t wear fancy gowns or host luxurious feasts. Saera was wearing borrowed clothes that she had sewn the day before. It was shining white - with black and red threads.
“Hen lantoti ānogar, (blood of two)” Saera recited while taking the obsidian dagger, cutting her palms and watching as the blood seeped through her stained forearm. “Va syndroti vāedroma, (joined as one)” he answered - sharing a smile before taking the dagger and cutting his own palms. By this time, rain began to pour from the clouds - coating the soil with water.
He looks in her direction again, losing himself in her lavender hues. Saera Targaryen - his niece, his wife, and flesh. “Mēro perzot gīhoti, (ghostly flames)” she responded, eyes locked in his own. The sides of her mouth turned upwards, smiling softly while their hands entwined together - their blood flowing and mixing. “Elēdroma jārza sīr, (and song of shadows)” he recited, taking the blood from his palms and writing the Valyrian words on her forehead.
‘Blood’ he wrote.
‘Fire’ she added on his.
He resisted the urge to lean over and kiss her forehead. He looks over her shoulder to see their children watching them. “Izulī ampā perzī, (two hearts as embers.)” she whispered - like a prayer. She takes the dagger from his hand, allowing the moment to linger. She reaches for his face again, creating a soft line in the middle of his supple lips. “Prūmi lanti sēteksi, (forged in fourteen flames)” he whispered, doing the same thing to her.
“Hen jeny māzīlarionr, (to a future promised in glass)” she answered, feeling the blaze graze her lips. “Qēlossa ozūndesi, (the stars stand witness)” they say in unison, as the priest descends with a goblet filled with blood. “Syndroro ōñō jēdo, (the vow spoken through time)” they say at the same time. The smell of petrichor enters their lungs. It was a prophecy.
Saera takes a sip from the goblet — tasting the delicious taste of rust and iron. "Ry kīyla mazvestraksi, (of darkness and light)" he breathed out as her lips left the rim of the cup, offering him a chance to drink too. He takes a sip of the blood — smiling as he feels her hand delicately touch his forearm. After his lips leave the goblet. She wipes the crimson from his lips and brings her thumb to her mouth, tasting the iron of his tongue.
Dragons of thread, weaving dragons of destruction.
“To fire and blood,” she whispered - grabbing his forearm and tasting the blood that he recently drank. “To the promise of spring,” he answered.
—
Viserys placed the parchment loudly on his table, rattling the previous paperwork that laid waste. It was a letter informing that Saera had married his brother in Dragonstone - and that there was nothing he could do to stop them. “I’m sure that they are jesting,” Lord Lyonel says uneasily - angered that his good-daughter has brought shame upon House Strong.
“We will get to the bottom of this, I assure you.” Viserys comforts, the dragon inside of him stirring awake. He didn’t mind seeing his daughter and brother around and making children - but marrying each other? It was too ambitious, even for Daemon. “Prince Daemon has never been one to think about the long-term outcomes of his actions. He is doing this for attention, your grace - you should pay him no mind.” Ser Otto responds, reading the letter.
“It is a sin against the seven gods.” Lyonel gritted his teeth, prepared to drag his good-daughter away from Dragonstone and barred in Harrenhal. “I understand if they were cousins - but uncle and niece? Princess Saera has known Prince Daemon since she was a babe.” Lyonel antagonized.
Oh the nobles were going to make fun of him.
Question his grandchildren’s legitimacy, even.
“According to the letter - they will arrive here tomorrow. I advise both of you to keep your opinions to yourselves. You are speaking of the prince and princess of this kingdom.” Viserys reprimanded, still having a soft spot for Aemma’s second daughter.
next chapter>>
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A Winter Beauty (12)
[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]
[warnings: smut, sex content, domination kink, fluff]
[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Previous and next parts: Masterlist
_____
Aemond had never felt so fulfilled and happy in his life. He looked at his wife, sleeping in his arms, nestled against his chest, listening to her calm breathing, gently stroking her hair. He knew that they should have gotten up long ago, that the servants must have noticed their absence. He was amused to think that it didn't bother him.
For some reason, he wasn't afraid to tell his father and mother about what he had done. He didn't even feel ashamed, though he should have. He married the woman he wanted, spent the night with her, and felt at peace.
Her soft murmur snapped him out of his thoughts. She snuggled closer to him, and he felt her inhaling his scent. He kissed her hair tenderly, still stroking her head, her contented sigh answered him. They could hear birds chirping outside the keep, a nice cool breeze flowing into the chamber.
Y/N lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes were still hazy from sleep. Her gentle hand touched his cheek tenderly, and he returned her gesture. They both hugged each other's faces, looking at each other in silence. After what seemed like an eternity, he leaned in and brushed his lips.
"Ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys." He whispered and she blushed. She knew the last word meant "wife" because it had come up earlier when he was explaining to her what the priest would say at their wedding ceremony.
Aemond had then greatly appreciated her confession that she wished he would teach her the language of his ancestors. He decided that it was indeed a skill worth and desired in his future wife. Aemond pursed his lips as he saw her brows furrow at the realization of what they had done.
***
He warned her that he wanted to talk to his parents himself, and that if they asked her anything later, she was to claim that he forced her to marry. That he told her that if she didn't, he would break off their engagement.
Lady Stark didn't like the idea of throwing everything at him, fearing that her parents and brother would never forgive him. But she had no better idea how to solve it.
When they finally appeared in the royal part of the keep, Ser Criston immediately approached them, clearly frightened.
"My prince, my Lady, where have you been? The queen and the king were very scared when they found out that you disappeared, they already wanted to plan a search and…”
"Tell the king and queen that their son wants to see them alone." Aemond said dryly, Y/N looked at him scared, her lips pursed. He didn't even glance at her as Criston nodded, and the two of them started walking towards the king's chamber.
The queen jumped up from her seat at the sight of him, avoiding the table, her face a mixture of horror and relief. She squeezed her son's shoulders as if to make sure he was okay. She shook her head, looking at him questioningly.
"Aemond, where have you been? What happened?" She asked, clearly hoping to hear a good explanation for the whole situation. Aemond stared at her calmly, his face stony.
"I married her, mother."
Alicent frowned at him in disbelief. She opened her mouth and closed it, looking at her husband-king, who was staring at his son as surprised as she was. The queen swallowed, looking at him in horror.
"What do you mean by 'married'?" She asked, her voice trembling and full of disbelief.
“I married her in the tradition of my Valryian ancestors and took her to be my wife. I consummated our marriage by taking her to my bed." He answered without a trace of embarrassment or fear. It amazed him how confident he felt, how little he cared what they thought. It was too late and there was nothing they could do about it.
Alicent placed a hand on her chest as if to calm her pounding heart. Only now did she notice the cut on his lips. She shook her head, unable to believe what he was saying. She decided that her most prudent son had lost his mind.
"What are we going to tell her parents now? That you disgraced her while she was under our protection? That you took her like some common wench?" She asked, almost screaming in despair. Viserys rose from his chair, sighing heavily.
"Alicent, it's done. The fiery Targaryen blood went to his head, not he first and not the last. Why be so mad? They're going to get married anyway." He said, slightly amused. Aemond stared at him in shock. His father never stood up for him. Alicent stared at him in disbelief.
"So what do you think we should do? Keep quiet?" She asked annoyed and waved her hand impatiently. "Pretend to her parents that nothing happened?"
The king stepped closer to them with an effort, leaning against the table. Every step seemed to cause him pain.
"What would you like to do? What good will this information do for them and for us? It seems to me that my son, since he knew how to take his wife to bed, also knows how to prevent her from becoming pregnant yet." He said, looking at his son expectantly, raising his eyebrows. Aemond felt himself crimson with shame and looked down.
"Yes, Father." He replied quietly.
Viserys nodded and looked at his queen-wife.
“Even if something happens, there's always moon tea. I know you often ask our maester to produce it for our second son, my dear wife." He said kissing her hand. Alicent's lip quivered as if she was about to cry. “Just look at them. They're still kids. In love with each other, fire pulses through their veins. In a few months they will marry in Sept. Hasn't our son suffered enough pain and humiliation already?"
***
Y/N jumped in place as Aemond suddenly entered her chamber. They stared at each other with wide eyes for a moment, then threw themselves into each other's arms.
Lady Stark clung tightly to her husband, fearing the worst - that the queen would order her to return to Winterfell. To her delight, it turned out to be quite the opposite. She will stay in Kings Landing until their wedding and will be given a chamber next to her husband.
Aemond told her everything. The king informed their closest servants that they were married and should be treated as such. However, they could not tell anyone else. Viserys promised them that if this information leaked in any way, he would have their tongues ripped out one by one.
The king said he would talk to Lord Stark and his wife himself and figure something out. Aemond couldn't believe his father had treated him so kindly. After all, he came to him once more, to show his gratitude for his support at least in a few words. He felt he owed him it. Viserys looked at him, tired.
"I know I haven't been a good father to you. I didn't support you when you asked me for her hand. You can count on me this time, my son."
***
The two weeks flew by quickly, leaving only four days until Aegon and Helaena's wedding. Lords from all over the country were slowly coming to the capital, every evening boisterous feasts and dances were organized. The entire fortress was full of excited voices and visitors.
Only Aemond, Lady Stark, the king, queen, and their closest servants knew that their chambers were connected by a passage in the painting. This meant that, even though they had promised the queen they wouldn't, they spent the nights together.
Aemond did not allow his servants to enter his chamber without permission in the evening and in the morning, because he knew that his wife would be waiting for him in bed. The sight of her, lying in a see-through nightgown, smiling at him, woven into his sheets made him hard right away.
Practically every night he fucked her, and when she was too sore from their raptures, he spent the nights with his face between her thighs. They pleased each other and slept completely naked.
Aemond did not allow a situation where his wife could fall asleep next to him in even a piece of clothing. He loved the feel of her skin pressed against him, her heartbeat, her warm breath.
They were both learning to touch each other's bodies, looking for interesting positions and enjoying everything they could. To his and her delight, they teased each other constantly, their shameless and unholy words driving each other insane.
Aemond knew that their love was fiery, and that he would never have known that pleasure with any other woman. Lady Stark read him like an open book and, to his despair, used all his weaknesses to drive him mad.
Often when they were lying down after their closeness, Aemond would light a candle, take a book, and teach her the Old Valyrian language. She loved those lessons when they were naked, hugging each other.
Aemond read her individual sentences, then translated them. Then she tried to pronounce it, imitating his accent. They read short phrases together, and when a word she already knew came up, he questioned her about its meaning, so that she would consolidate her knowledge. To his satisfaction, she was very eager to learn and had an easy time recreating the correct sounds.
When they were alone, he sometimes spoke to her in that language as well, wanting her to get used to the sound of it. To his delight, she was able to formulate simple answers on her own, and she delivered them flawlessly.
One afternoon during training, he couldn't concentrate after she'd told him earlier that she'd like to try something different with him. The thought of it excited him greatly. Two hours of fighting seemed like an eternity to him. Even though Criston and he usually had a chat afterward about what they were going to practice the next day, he brushed him off this time, saying he had important think to do.
He entered his chamber, hot and excited. When he saw her body on his bed, how she pushed herself up on her elbows when she saw him, he felt his manhood throbbing wildly in his pants. She must have noticed it, because she smiled, amused.
"You came back early today, husband." She said innocently and softly as she sat down on her lap, only a transparent, thin nightgown on her body. He could clearly see the outline of her breasts, which he now sucked and caressed so often with his mouth. He swallowed hard at the sight and walked over to her, his expression impassive.
He took her chin gently in his hand and lifted it to make her look at him. For all the innocence on her face, he knew what she was capable of. What she said and did with him in bed. His cock throbbed again at the thought.
"What did you want to show me, my sweet wife?" He asked matter-of-factly, trying to hide his excitement, knowing what is really hidden under her sweetness. A vein throbbed hard in his throat, betraying the rapid beating of his heart.
Lady Stark took his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly, reverently. Aemond's mouth dropped open at the sight. She often did that, before and after their intimacy. She constantly showed him her total devotion, which turned him on even more.
She rose on her lap, undoing the buckles of his leather jacket one by one. He swallowed silently at the sight, his fingers brushing lightly over her neck and shoulder. He felt a shiver go through her.
She took off his jacket and shirt and told him to take off his pants. Once he was completely naked in front of her, she pulled him to her and they kissed hungrily, his tongue immediately sliding into her mouth. He was hard all day because of what she told him. Y/N pulled away from him and looked at him excitedly.
"Lie on your back, my prince." She said with a warm smile, her eyes shining. Aemond swallowed hard. Until now, even though he had also taken her from the side and from behind, enjoying the sight of her beautiful body and his cock penetrating her with all his strenght, she had never sat on him.
He didn't want to propose it to her, it reminded him of the whores Aegon had taken him to visit once, and who had ridden him for hours, and he, discouraged, wished only to leave.
But now, with her, her words made him feel hot. He obediently did as she told him. He decided not to take off the blindfold. He did it sometimes when she felt like it, let her take it off whenever she wanted, but he never took it off of his own accord.
Aemond's lips parted lustfully as Lady Stark, looking him straight in the eye, took off her nightgown, leaving her naked, her loose hair swept back.
She scooted over to him and straddled him, pursed her lips in satisfaction. He could see that she had obviously been preparing for this for a long time and wanted to do it very much. The thought turned him on even more.
She noticed this because she smiled in amusement and pressed her warm, wet entrance against his manhood, massaging him up and down. Aemond gasped at the sensation and grabbed her hips, moving with her. He liked being able to see her body in all its glory.
"I thought, my husband, my prince, that I would also like to be a dragonrider." She said quietly and timidly, moving slowly on him, an innocent smile on her face, her hands resting on his chest. Aemond looked at her in surprise and swallowed softly.
"I don't understand, my wife. Do you wish to have your own dragon?" He asked in disbelief, wanting to make sure he understood correctly. He frowned as she laughed lightly at his words.
She rose slightly, taking his manhood in her hand. They both moaned low as she slowly began to lower herself onto him, his tip entering her easily.
"No, my prince. I want to ride the greatest dragon in the Kingdom." She said, teasing him, bouncing up and down a little bit without putting herself all over him. They both gasped at the delicious sensation, his hands tightening on her buttocks, he listened in disbelief.
"You once told me that a dragon cannot be stolen, that it must be tamed." She whispered, lowering herself all over him, and he moaned loudly, throwing his head back slightly. His chest heaved in an uneven rhythm, and he stared at her uncomprehendingly.
"Lykiri, ñuha valzȳrys. Lykiri. (Easy, my husband. Easy.)” She whispered tenderly, seeing how it affected him. She grinned widely as his eye widened in shock. Only now did he understand what she meant.
His jaw clenched, his cock throbbing painfully inside her. He gripped her hips tightly and thrust into her with brutal force, causing both of them to moan loudly in pleasure. He knew, that she decided to drive him insane. He stared at her with his mouth parted, knowing inside himself that she could ride him like that every night.
"How could I deny myself the pleasure of riding the largest dragon in Westeros?" She asked, lowering herself on top of him and rising in a quick, sharp rhythm, the wet sounds of her hot cunt echoing around the room. They both began to breathe louder, he lifted his legs and bent them at the knees, his hands tightening on her buttocks, forcing her to speed up.
"Do you want me to tame you, my husband?" She asked softly, panting heavily, plunging violently against him, stuffing herself to the brim with him, rubbing where she needed it. Aemond watched with his mouth parted as his cock disappeared and reappeared deep inside her with a wet sound.
"Do you want your wife to ride you?” She whispered, her skin glistened with sweat, her lips were slightly parted with desire, a slight smile appeared on her face.
Aemond moaned low at her words and looked at her pleadingly. He fucked her brutally, lowering her hips on himself with great force. He didn't have the strength to lie to her or to himself, he felt wonderful, her words aroused in him an unbearable heat.
"Yes… yes, gods, I want it" He said helplessly, panting heavily, feeling that if he kept going like this, he wouldn't last long. He watched her breasts rise up and down with a wet slap, grabbed one of them in his hand and began to squeeze it, not slowing down, her hot, tight cunt pressing mercilessly on him.
"Dohaeris, valzȳrys (Obey, husband)" She moaned with satisfaction seeing how much he was turned on by what she was doing. He looked at her pleadingly, panting as they fucked hard, their wet bodies hitting each other fast and greedily, his belly wet with her juices. They both moaned loudly, feeling that a few more moves and they would come.
"Qogralbar nyke (Fuck me), Aemond, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me” She moaned almost like a prayer, his animal groan startled both her and him, he pushed his cock inside her a few more times and they both came moving in pleasure, panting and moaning helplessly, their hands clenching their bodies as his hot semen spilled inside her.
"Fuck!" He gasped in despair, throwing his head back, he had never had such a strong orgasm before. He was furious with himself for coming inside her, but he couldn't help it, it felt too good. They both panted as they looked at each other, her hand touching his cheek tenderly.
"Don't worry, my dragon. From the books I read, I learned that a few days before a moon bleeding, a woman has little chance of becoming pregnant. I told you I was well prepared."
_____
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Wedding Bells At Midnight
Warnings: Really not any unless you count tooth rotting fluff as one lol.
Word Count: 3.5k+
Idk how other people are but if I read something, I like to see pictures of descriptive things so if I need to post the links for the wedding look lmk!
It has officially been 3 months since Loki proposed and we were excitedly awaiting the wedding. The date had been set to be when I finished my college degree so we could have a long honeymoon without any distractions so, the date would be May 24th. I already had my dresses picked out and bought, stored away from my mischievous fiance’s eyes at Natasha’s place. Both me and the groom had been working hard on our vows since we weren’t doing them the traditional way. And since we weren’t doing the traditional vows we also decided that we wouldn’t be spending the night before apart.
The wedding was 2 days away and it was all either of us could think about. Loki had been nagging me to see the dress since the day I went and bought it, taking quite a chunk out of the bank account. We had agreed to let the Avengers set everything up at the venue without our supervision, the anxiety levels were high to say the least. True they were our most trusted friends, some more than others, but we still had our worries. Loki was going to be wearing a black suit with a dark green tie and Thor would be his best man with Tony Stark and Vision as groomsmen. All of the groomsmen, including the best man, were going to be wearing black suits.
My matron of honor is Natasha with Wanda and Pepper Pots as my bridesmaids. Obviously Thor and Natasha would be walking down together with Pepper would be going down with Stark and Wanda would be going down with Vision. All of our bridesmaids and groomsmen were already married with two of the couples walking down together with Thor and Natasha being the only ones not walking down with their partners. The bridesmaids and matron of honor would be wearing dark gray dresses and the groomsmen’s ties would be the same color.
The night before the wedding we didn’t have a rehearsal dinner and the wedding party had a get together for us all to maybe try to take some of the edge off. We all arrived at Thor and Jane’s house at around 6 pm and left at 9 to try and get some rest before the big day.
Loki and I were laying in bed cuddling and I was laying on his bare chest listening to his heartbeat while he was tracing soothing patterns on my shoulder. My arms were wrapped around his waist and there was only a single candle illuminating our room with a gentle yellow glow. I looked up at him, propping my chin up on his chest. Loki looked down at me pulling his mind away from the book he was submerged in, quirking up an eyebrow curious of what I’m going to say. “Hey Lokes?” “Yes darling?” “What if we got married?” “We are to be wed tomorrow dearest. Why in the Nine Realms are you asking me this question now?” “Well I know that but, what if we got married like right now?” “Now?” “Yeah, like we could seal the marriage with a kiss at exactly midnight so technically we would be staying true to the date.”, he takes a minute to think about my proposition and looks back at me before saying, “I think that would be a lovely idea, my dove.” “Really?! Ok then, let me call everyone!”, he laughs and grunts a little when I excitedly push off of his chest and jump off the bed. I call the group chat of everyone who’s supposed to be at the wedding and everyone agrees to meet us at the venue. “You truly are crazy Persephone. You know that right?” “Yes of course I do. Now get up, we have a venue to get to!”, I say playfully annoyed, pulling him off the bed.
We get to the venue and get into our separate dressing rooms with our groomsmen and bridesmaids. At 11:50 we all get lined up with Loki already being down the aisle. Heimdall is our officiant so Loki walked down with him. Since I didn’t have a father to hand me off to Loki, one of my closest friends from the military, Shane, would be handing me off. Before the doors open I get behind a second wall and Thor and the rest of the groomsmen turn around and tear up at the sight of me in my dress.
The dress is a dark green and is long enough to cover my feet. It has flowers adorning the bodice curving around my body, stopping at my waist. It’s an off the shoulder dress with long and flowing pieces coming off the back of my shoulders. It flows out from the bodice in a slightly puffed skirt. My ash blonde hair braided and wrapped around into a bun with delicate and small white flowers intertwined. My eyeshadow a dark and glittery gold color with a smokey eye. The look completed with my lips painted a blush pink. My bouquet is made up of blush pink and dark green roses. My heels are a golden color with pointed tips with white and gold flowers adorning the heels. Frigga had brought my jewelry from the palace vault and said they were mine to keep, as her wedding gift to me. It was also her way of welcoming me into the family. The necklace is a line of diamonds starting from the nape on the left side of my neck and wraps around to the right that comes down to right below the center of my neck where a small emerald lies. Where the few diamonds rest on my nape emeralds pick up on their trail. The emeralds on the left don’t connect to the one in the center. The earrings having a celtic design and are silver with a green stone at the bottom. To top off the entire thing a thin and intricate headpiece made with a similar celtic design with a single green stone that rests in the middle of my forehead.
Thor takes in the sight with a thoughtful look and gives me a smile. “Well what do ya say we get this wedding started.” “I think that’s a great idea.”, I say with a smile. Thor knocked on the door letting the people outside know we are ready to start. Roslyn by St.Bon Iver begins playing as the wedding party walks down the aisle. When everyone is settled into their places, the door opens once again and I begin my walk down the aisle, my arm linked with Shane’s. Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez plays as I make my way down the aisle. I look at the man I’m to be wed to and make eye contact, seeing tears falling down his face at a slow pace and I know The God of Mischief is a changed man.
It takes until we get to the end of the aisle for me to finally take in the beautiful white rose arch above us with fairy lights intertwined. Loki takes my hand as Shane hands me off with tears threatening to spill from his eyes at any moment. Loki kisses my hand and whispers in my ear, “You look incredible darling.” “Not as good as you honey.”, he smiles at that with a small laugh. Heimdal goes through with the Asgardian wedding customs and then hands the situation over to Loki and I, “I believe the bride and groom have prepared their own vows. Is that correct?”, he looks at us both and we nod with a smile. Loki recites his first, “My dearest Persephone, I promise to always make you laugh and we will laugh together. I vow that we will be a family forever and all of eternity. I could never get bored with you and I will most definitely make a point to never let there be a dull moment as long as I’m around. Together we will always have trust because our promises of honesty and love will be our strength. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”, we are both crying at this point and my throat is tight with a sob that I let out with a ragged breath right before I begin, “My one and only love, Loki, I vow to love you even when I’m upset or angry with you. There will be no running- ever, even in the toughest of times. I will not walk out on you no matter what happens. I vow to take care of you even if we ever become old, senile, and smelly. I walk down this aisle tonight and recite these vows because, to me, you are worthy and will never become a burden to me- ever. I’m in love with every part of you, including the beautiful cobalt blue and ruby red eyes part. I love you with my entire soul and body, even more than any being can ever begin to comprehend.”, by the time I finish with my vows I can tell Loki is holding back sobs by the way his Adam's apple bobs. Heimdall comes up behind us and asks for the rings and Thor and Natasha hand us the wedding bands we picked out for each other. Loki’s is black with a dark green marble design and mine is of the same style but thinner to go underneath my silver band with an emerald sitting in the middle. We slip them onto each other’s hands and Heimdal comes up behind us to finish off the ceremony. “Loki Laufeyson, do you take Persephone Alexandri to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “It would be an absolute honor.” “And you, Persephone Alexandri, do you take Loki Laufeyson to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I didn’t spend all of that money for nothin’.”, Laughs were scattered throughout the venue and Heimdall looks between us with a smile. “Then in that case, you may now kiss the bride.” Loki holds the sides of my face gently and pulls me in to bind our lips together at exactly midnight. He grabbed my leg, smirking into the now deepening kiss. I instinctively snake my arms around his neck. Getting lost in the moment we hear Thor yell laughing, “Save it for the honeymoon lovebirds!” We pull away and Loki puts his forehead against mine and rubs his nose to mine playfully. Laughing with joy filled eyes and faces, we make our way back up the aisle, arm in arm, with everyone cheering us on as newlyweds.
Loki pulls me away from all of the festivities and into the bridal dressing room. “You look absolutely stunning tonight darling.”, he whispers against the shell of my ear. I pull away and lock my hazel brown on his shimmering ocean blue and press my lips to his. His soft lips envelope mine in a breathtaking kiss. The physical bond is only the cherry on top to our soul's bond that can never, ever be broken. We become completely lost in each other until we hear three quick wraps on the door. “Come on Beauty and Beast, wrap it up. Y'all got a first dance to attend to.”, we hear Natasha laugh outside of the door.
Loki and I make our way out to the separate awning for dancing and everyone starts cheering as we walk out. We make it to the middle of the floor and assume our positions with each other. “I can’t help it” by JVKE starts playing and we begin the well rehearsed dance. The song starts off slow with only a piano to start off. Soon after we have close to 10 seconds of a more formal way of dancing the beat drops into a beautiful symphony and when that first strong beat released itself Loki grabbed my hips and lifted me into the air, bringing me back down gently. After we finish our first dance we walk out and everyone comes out onto the dance floor, dancing and laughing the night away.
Half an hour later everyone’s still on the dance floor when the music and lights suddenly cut out. The beginning of “Electric Love” by BØRNS starts playing and Loki and I run our way out to the middle of the dance floor. In the time we were gone I had changed out of my wedding dress and into a short gold halter neck dress and Loki had just taken off his suit jacket and his tie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. We had rehearsed the other song we had been working on as a funny surprise for our guests and our own fun and pleasure. When I say we danced like no one was watching, we did just that. The music flowing through our bodies like blood. The short and calculated movements were less precise and more emotion filled as the song went on and with each meeting of our eyes. The song ended and everyone erupted with cheers, leaving Loki and I grinning like two kids on Christmas.
I was making my rounds talking to everyone who was attending the wedding and all I could think about the entire time was how my somewhat socially awkward husband was having to do the very same thing, or at least I thought he was. That is until I felt his large hands wrap around my waist and lift me up above his shoulders whilst I was talking to Frigga, making me shriek. “Loki honey, what by the roots of Yggdrasil are you doing?!”, he let out a small chuckle and just kept on moving. We rounded a corner and he sat me down in front of the bridal dressing room door and pulled me into a tight hug, leaning down towards my ear, “We have to sign our wedding certificate darling.” He pulled away and opened the door revealing that Heimdall, Thor, and Natasha were already waiting for us. We had discussed at an earlier date that Natasha would be my choice of witness and Thor would be Loki’s. Heimdall handed us the certificate and Loki looked at it with a face filled with disapproval. With a slight turn of his pointer finger the once plain piece of paper that officiated our marriage now had golden cursive lettering with green, white, and gold flowers adorning the corners and edges. Beside the paper two gold fountain pens appeared beside it on the table in front of us. Loki hummed his approval and picked up one of the pens, handing me one as well. We signed the certificate and handed the pens over to Thor and Natasha. The two witnesses signed the page and handed it over to Heimdall who then placed a magical bond over it, sealing our marriage document.
Later after most of the attendees said their goodbyes, Loki and I grabbed our bags for the honeymoon. Steven Strange was already waiting for us with his sling ring on, ready to transport us to Greece. Tony had offered to pay for everything as his wedding gift to us and we gladly accepted. He set up two new accounts linked to his and gave each of us our own separate cards. He had also gone ahead and paid for our hotel, which was of course the best one there and booked us the honeymoon suite.
We went through the swirling orange circle and immediately landed in the hotel lobby. I handed our bags over to the hotel service and helped a little while Loki went up to the counter and checked us in. I sat down on a leather chair in a far corner of the lobby and waited for a while. Five minutes later Loki stalked over to me and offered his hand to me, I accepted it and squeaked when he pulled me around to his back and pulled me up towards the mid-section of his strong back. “Please tell me we’re at least taking the elevator.”, he just chuckled mischievously and took off running. Loki stopped at the beginning forked hallway, right side leading to the elevator and the left leading to the stairwell. “Loki babe, please take the elevator.”, I laughed, pleading with my husband. “Darling.” “What?” “Where’s the fun in that?” Next thing I knew he had started running again and took a sharp left. “Are you sure you can even run up these stairs with me on your back?” “Oh my dear, why must you insult me in such a way?”, and off he went. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the fact that my husband was trying to have some fun before we went to bed, exhausted from the long night since it was 6am and the ceremony was at 12am. To add on to that we had been up from the break of dawn the day before without any sleep. Also, the honeymoon suite was on the 10th floor. We had arrived in our room within 5 minutes because Loki decided he was tired as well and ended up teleporting us to the door on the 6th floor for a shorter arrival time.
Did I forget to mention that we may have a little too much to drink so when we opened the door, we stumbled our way to the bed and fell face first. Laughing until our stomachs cramped, we got out of the sweat soaked clothes and showered. After the very relaxing and hour-long shower, we slipped into some matching Mr. and Mrs. sweatpants both dark green with gold embroidery and I put on a comfy sports bra while Loki decided to go shirtless for tonight. Though he was slightly uncomfortable being in his Jotun form in a place he had never been, I had reassured him it was perfectly fine, I was just happy for the cool radiating off of him. We peeled the covers back and climbed into bed, snuggling into each other’s embrace. Loki grabbed the blanket and pulled it over us. Once settled underneath the blanket, Loki wrapped his arms around my waist but not before grabbing my left hand and kissing my wedding band. “I love you so much my dear wife.”, he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead and looking down at me with a loving and exhaustion laced smile. “I love you too.” I raise my head and press my lips to his. I pull away and pull his face to mine, closing my eyes. “My love, my Loki.”
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The sight of spring
Karlach and Wyll announce their wedding and pregnancy. The rest of their merry little bunch starts wondering about marrying. Conversations (and sex) occur.
(Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, body worship, consensual blood drinking, fellatio, frottage, foreplay (lots of it), gentle sex, ear kink (kinda), fluff, the feels, character study)
Notes:
To avoid confusion: In one of my other fanfics Halsin and Tav had named the owlbear cup Naïlo, which means 'night breeze' in the Elven language.
I used official D&D/Forgotten Realms maps to pinpoint the locations of Gale's tower house. The maps can be found here, here, and here.
The house number is based on the release date of Baldur's Gate 3 (3rd of August).
Karlach's & Wyll's faith is based on this fic.
Three other fics (Tav's gift, Tav's sex parade - Chapter 12: Mate me, mark me, make me yours, Magic Touch) are mentioned.
I have the 'elves have sensitive ears and it's a kinky thing' headcanon/brainrot since the game came out. Obviously, I had to do something about it :D
The Selûnite ritual's based on old Walpurgis Night/May Day (the night of 30 April and the day of 1 May) traditions.
It wasn't the eager knocking at the front door that woke her up but Scratch's barking, Naïlo's hooting, and Tara's persistent shouting.
"Miss Ta-hav! It's the mail boy!"
"I'm coming!" grumbled the bard and emerged from the bedroom, half-asleep and in her nightgown.
She'd returned in the early morning hours from her performance at a wedding, and had only slept for three hours so far.
Grumpily, she opened the door and was face to face with a too cheery mail boy in his teens.
"Good morning, saer!" he exclaimed loudly, smiling brightly. "I have a letter for Coin Alley 38, Mister Ancunin, Mister Dekarios, Miss Hallowleaf, and Miss Sionnach."
"That's us," grumbled the bard.
"Here. Have a lovely day, saer!" the boy shouted, handed her the letter, and ran off.
Tav closed the door and made her way to the kitchen, followed by the animals. Yawning, she started brewing some lavender tea and stole one of Gale's freshly-baked raisin milk bread rolls. He wouldn't notice, hopefully. The bard sat down, bread between her teeth, and opened the letter. Impatiently, Tara hopped up onto the chair next to Tav, trying to get a good look at the expensive paper.
"Who's it from?" she asked curiously.
"Karlach and Wyll," Tav answered surprised, then, she started to read out loud.
"Hey soldiers friends,
We have some exciting news to share. The renovations and expansion of our new home are finished and we've started decorating (Wyll wants it to be 'tasteful', whatever that means).
We'd be fucking happy incredibly excited (Wyll chose these words. Calling it 'more dignified') if you'd come over next Saturday at noon for lunch.
Wyll insists on not telling you the other news yet, but I'm way too happy to wait any longer: I'm pregnant! Soon, there will be a little Karlach or a little Wyll running 'round in the lodge mansion lodge (we must call it a 'mansion' now for some reason). All the fancy women warned me about the nausea and tiredness, but I'm fit as a fiddle! Maybe, that's a tiefling thing, I don't know.
Also: our wedding will be held during the summer solstice!
(I probably won't fit in the dress we already bought, but who cares.)
Anyway, we're looking forward to see you all next Saturday. Please bring Scratch, Naïlo, and Tara along, I miss them!
Soldier out Sincerely With all our love,
Karlach Cliffgate & Wyll Ravengard
(Sunshine insisted on putting the family names there as if you folks don't remember who we are. Silly.)"
Tav chuckled at the obvious banter the soon-to-be-wedded couple had during the writing process.
"How lovely to invite us all," Tara remarked, visibly pleased. "Miss Cliffgate’s rather smart."
"She is," snickered the bard and scratched the tressym's chin.
"They'll marry during the solstice? How lovely," Gale said, stirring the sauce pot.
"Well, darling, I'm already married," Astarion joked, wiggling his elegant fingers.
The Ring of the Sun-Walker, which granted him the ability to withstand the sunlight, glinted on his middle finger.
"Oh, my dearest husband," Tav giggled and kissed his knuckles.
Gale cleared his throat and stirred the pot more vigorously. The bard and the vampire spawn looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
"My, my," the latter warbled, moved over, and wrapped an arm around Gale's waist. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say our wizard's jealous."
"I'm not," the addressed answered too quickly. "I'm perfectly happy with our arrangement. Don't project."
"I'd never, darling," Astarion purred and licked Gale's earlobe, playing with the jewellery dangling from it. The wizard shuddered and goosebumps spread over his arms.
"I just thought you might want to be married to Tav too. – And maybe even to me."
The wooden spoon slipped from Gale's hand and plopped into the basil sauce. His eyes were wide in shock when he looked at the vampire spawn, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Asta-"
The wizard was silenced with a kiss and his legs almost gave out when he felt Astarion's sharp fangs dragging over his lips.
"I mean it," the vampire spawn whispered. "One word, darling, and we'll marry you."
"Oh."
Gale was grateful for Astarion's and Tav's strength when his legs truly gave out. His two lovers held him up between them. The vampire spawn devoured the wizard's mouth while the bard kissed his neck. Even though distracted, Gale made a hand gesture to move the pots from the fire. It would have been a shame if their dinner would have burned.
"Oh, hello. What a lovely sight. What's the occasion?" Shadowheart asked amused as she waltzed into the kitchen.
"Karlach and Wyll will marry during the solstice and Gale's jealous because I'm already married to Tav." Astarion outstretched his hand as an explanation. "Thus, we offered to marry him too."
The cleric raised an eyebrow.
"We? In terms of 'the both of you'?"
"Exactly."
"Aww, how cute," Shadowheart giggled. Then, she sniffed. "Mmh, basil sauce. Good, I'm starving. Move, lovebirds."
She wiggled her way in next to Tav and slightly pushed her away to reach the stove. In a practiced movement, she sieved the noodles and plopped them into the sauce, stirring carefully to not create a mush. Completely unbothered by Astarion's, Gale's, and Tav's passionate make out session, the cleric tried the sauce, nodded, and added a bit more salt and pepper.
"Come on, dinner's ready. I'm starving."
The others finally moved apart and Shadowheart handed them their filled plates. They sat down at the table and ate while discussing the topic of their friends' wedding.
Shadowheart was enjoying her bubble bath when Tav entered the room.
"Can I talk to you, love?" the bard asked, looking troubled.
"Of course. What's on your mind?" the cleric replied curiously.
Her lover moved closer, rolled up her sleeves, and took the washcloth. Happily, Shadowheart turned around to let her wash her back. Tav was always so gentle and mindful. For a while, the bard stayed silent, then she said: "About the thing in the kitchen... You know I love you all equally, right?"
"Right," nodded Shadowheart, slightly confused about the direction of their conversation.
"I... hm... Astarion's just joking around. I'd never marry anyone without asking for your blessing first. You're as important to me as the guys, I hope you know that."
"Of course, I do!" Shadowheart turned around in the tub to look at Tav who seemed miserable.
"I don't want to prioritise anyone and I haven't been a very attentive partner to you the last couple of weeks. I'm sorry."
"Tav, lover mine." The cleric placed a hand on the bard's cheek. "Astarion wears your ring and you wear Halsin's bite mark. In a way, you're already married to them. If you go along and wed Gale in a more traditional way, that's fine with me. Personally, I don't need such a ceremony to see you as my spouse. – But... if you'd ask..." She bit her lip before continuing. "There's a Selûnite ritual, called 'The Intertwinement of Hearts' which's a celebration between lovers. It's... well, it's basically a wedding."
Tav smiled, stroking her knuckles.
"And you'd love to participate in said ritual? With me?"
Shadowheart nodded, blushing slightly.
"I'd love to do that with you, yes."
"Then, it's done," the bard told her. "I'll talk with the others and it'll be arranged. Yeah?"
"Yes."
Tav kissed her gently and they rested their foreheads together.
"Let's get married," Shadowheart said with a giggle, slightly teary-eyed.
"Mmh, let our hearts intertwine," the bard smiled.
"You're aware that 'The Intertwinement of Hearts' is a wedding ritual?" Gale asked her, looking incredulous.
Tav nodded.
"I am, yes. That's why I'm asking for your and Astarion's blessing."
"Well... you're already mine," said Astarion and winked at her.
"I, of course, won't hold you back, but you're aware that marriage comes with responsibilities, right?"
"Yes, and are you aware that neither Astarion nor I were joking when we told you we'd marry you?"
Gale almost choked on his tea.
"You... uhm... you would?"
"Yes," Astarion and Tav answered in unison, then grinned at each other.
The wizard turned crimson.
"It would be an honour. I mean it's not that we have to marry, no pressure, but uhm…"
"But you really want to marry us," Tav interrupted him.
Gale nodded hesitantly, still flushed.
"Oh, darling! You're such a romantic."
The vampire spawn wrapped his arms around the wizard and kissed him tenderly. Gale melted into his touch and traced Astarion's jawline before stroking his pointed ear. The elf moaned and shuddered at the intimate touch.
"Your ears are rather sensitive," Gale whispered. "I read up on Elven culture and history and found some interesting paragraphs about the different ways of showing affection and intimacy. And there was an especially... hmm... 'stimulating' chapter that piqued my interest. Some rather curious methods... and I'd like to try them."
"Yes," Astarion panted, licking deeper into his lover's mouth. Gods, he was as hard as an iron rod. Gale was able to bring out a specific part of Astarion's sexual arousal that not even Tav managed to reach.
"We leave you the bedroom and sleep in your study. Goodnight, loves," warbled Tav and vanished with a snickering Shadowheart in tow.
Gale wanted to protest, but Astarion's mouth was rather distracting.
"My room," the vampire spawn panted. "More privacy, more soundproof. Come on."
He grabbed onto Gale's robe and ushered him downstairs. After closing the door, he started to free the wizard from his clothes. Gale shivered and resisted the urge to cover himself up.
"Look at you, darling. So gorgeous," Astarion all but growled and dropped to his knees.
He mouthed and licked at Gale's erection before swallowing it down. The wizard gasped at the coolth of his lover's body and ran his hands through the silver-white curls.
"Actually, I wanted to try things out on you," he groaned. "You have to stop or I'll come."
"Then come," Astarion rasped and took him back into his mouth.
The wizard let out a high-pitched sound, threw his head back and climaxed, spilling down his lover's throat. The vampire spawn swallowed it all and moaned at the slightly sweet taste. Tentatively, he got up and asked: "What did you have in mind, darling?"
Gale looked at him, dazed and panting. His pulse roared and jumped under his skin. It made Astarion lick his lips hungrily. A rivulet of sweat ran down the wizard's neck and the vampire spawn leaned in to lick it off.
"What interesting things did you read in those books, Gale? Tell me."
"I - I prefer to show you," the addressed replied.
Still slightly drunk on his orgasm, the wizard led Astarion to the bed and the latter stripped and lay down gracefully. With one leg propped up, the vampire spawn ran a hand down the front of his entire body, smiling lasciviously.
"Right," Gale said, more to himself than anyone else. He kneeled onto the bed next to Astarion. "For the thing I'd like to try you can either keep lying down or sit in my lap. The choice is yours."
The addressed thought about it for a second.
"Your lap seems rather comfortable, darling."
Thus, Gale leaned against the headboard and Astarion straddled him, grinding down on him on purpose.
"Stop wiggling and we can begin," the wizard told him.
The vampire spawn stilled immediately. Whatever his lover had planned to give him, he wanted it. Badly. Carefully, Gale took Astarion's face between his hands, stroking his jawbone and neck.
"If the literature's correct, and I'm sure it is, elves know many ways to show love and affection to their lovers. One of them, involves your particularly sensitive ears." As a demonstration, Gale ran his middle finger up the shell of Astarion's ear and the latter shuddered, barely suppressing a moan. "Elf ears are much more delicate to the touch. An erogenous zone, they say. That's funny since some humans think the same way about their own ears, and thinking that elf ears are even more sensitive... I can only imagine how it must feel like for you to be touched there."
Gale took Astarion's ears between his fingers and gently rolled them between them. The vampire spawn mewled and closed his eyes, grinding his hips down.
"Look at you," the wizard muttered, mirroring Astarion's own words. He slid his nimble fingers up higher and slightly pinched the pointed ends. Astarion moaned, mouth falling open without his consent.
"Truly a peculiar evolution of your race. You asked about the especially saucy paragraphs... well... It says that elves can reach their high by merely having their ears touched. That's why, back in the ugly old days, humans punished elves by publicly getting them off via their ears and after reaching their peak, they cut the tips of the elves' ears off. A truly barbaric, gruesome act I might add."
"Get... to the point... Gale," Astarion panted.
"I want to test said theory, dear," the wizard replied and the vampire spawn's breath hitched. "Let's see, shall we?"
Gale continued to caress Astarion's ears with his fingers. Gently, almost a ghostly touch.
"I found instructions," the wizard revealed. "There are multiple ways to stimulate your ears: hands, mouth, tongue. Even feet and genitals. There was a story of an Elven prostitute, notoriously know for climaxing by simply having air blown onto his ears. - Can you do that too, Astarion? Are you able to come that way?"
"I... don't... know," the addressed moaned. "I never - ah! There was always - ngh - more involved than just - just my ears."
"I see. Would you like to try?"
"Yes! Gods, yes!"
The wizard hummed pleased. He caressed Astarion's ears one last time before pulling his hands away and his lover closer to him. Now, he leaned forward and licked the vampire spawn's earlobe. The latter groaned.
"It's the combination that excites you, isn't it?" whispered Gale. "The sensitivity combined with the heat of my body."
"Yes," Astarion moaned, tightening his grip in his lover's hair.
The wizard dragged his tongue upwards, along the shell, ending with a little flick at the top. Meanwhile, he continued to caress the other ear with his fingers. The vampire spawn trembled, panted, and moaned. It felt like torture. Bittersweet, addictive torture. Gale repeated the motion and then, he sucked the ear between his teeth, grazing it gently. Astarion whined, bucking his hips up. Gods, he was going to die. He sobbed.
"Gale... please..."
The addressed released his ear and the vampire spawn felt tears prick in his eyes. He sobbed again. And then, Gale stuck his hot, wet tongue into his ear canal. Astarion cried out and came so hard he blacked out for a second. When he regained consciousness, his lover still traced the inside of his auricle, dipping into the canal once in a while. Astarion moaned and finally swallowed again, realising he'd drooled all over himself and Gale.
"As expected, the literature's correct and precise," noted the latter. "Are you still with me, Astarion?"
"Yes," the addressed groaned.
"Can I try something else, or do you want to stop?"
"Go on. Please."
"It might be better if you'd lie down for this one. You seem rather wobbly."
"That's your doing, darling," Astarion told him.
Gale chuckled, helped his lover to get comfortable, and lay down next to him. He leaned over the vampire spawn, looking sincerely.
"I'll make it good for you," he promised.
"You already did," mumbled the addressed.
"That's a relief," the wizard told him and kissed his forehead. "I remember how much you enjoyed it when my breath ghosted over your ear while I touched you and the mage hand pleasured you. I want to do it again and see if it alone is enough to bestow you with a release."
Gale placed a hand on Astarion's chest as he scooted upwards to lick his ear again. The vampire spawn shivered and his spent member twitch in interest. Carefully, the wizard wetted the entire shell of the ear before gently blowing on it. The vampire spawn trembled and moaned. The feeling was almost too intense. Gale did it again, his other hand sliding upwards to touch his other ear. Astarion's eyes rolled back in his head when the wizard rubbed the tip of his left ear between his fingers and sucked the right one into his mouth. Gale's touch was so hot on Astarion's cold, undead skin, and the latter thought he'd explode. Moaning, he gripped the bedsheets to hold onto something at least.
"What interesting reactions," Gale murmured, deliberately breathing right against the vampire spawn's ear. "If I'd known earlier about this phenomenon, I'd have used it to show you affection without threatening you. It would have helped to make you more comfortable around us. Around me."
"I'm sorry," Astarion panted. "Under Cazador, my ears got neglected. People rarely touched them even when I seduced and bedded them. And touching them myself hasn't the same effect. It didn't even cross my mind to asked for it."
"I see... I'm sorry," Gale told him softly. "I'll touch them now as much as you want."
"Yes. Please!" the vampire spawn whine, desperate for it.
The wizard shushed him, caressing one ear and licking and blowing on the other. Astarion thought he was about to go mad and lose his mind. Gale stuck his tongue into his ear canal again before gently blowing on it. Astarion moaned, but it wasn't enough this time. The wizard, bless him, seemed to realised it too and kissed him while his fingers caressed, rubbed and slightly pinched his ears. Astarion's breath hitched, his ears rang, and he thrusted his hips upwards into the wizards thigh. He shook, exploded, his vision whitened, but he didn't ejaculate. The vampire spawn whimpered, utterly overstimulated and sensitive to any touch.
"How fascinating," Gale mumbled, tracing his lover's member. "It seems like you had a dry orgasm. It would be most interesting if we could –"
Astarion hissed and slapped the wizard's hand away.
"Don't touch me, I'm too sensitive. It - it hurts."
At that, Gale looked alarmed.
"It hurts? Where? Everywhere? Or only your –"
"Everywhere," the addressed groaned. "It feels like I'm on fire."
"Oh, that's not good. I haven't read enough about the effects of dry orgasms and overstimulation. Maybe I should ha-"
"Gale? Shut up, please," Astarion sighed and closed his eyes in exhaustion.
"Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"
"Gale..."
"Apologies, but I'm worried."
"I'm fine. Just give me a moment."
"As you wish."
Gale lay down next to his lover, cautious of not actually touching him. Astarion was grateful for it.
"I think I simply came so hard, my brain got fried," he muttered.
The wizard chuckled and carefully took his hand.
"Is that alright?"
The vampire spawn nodded and Gale just held his hand silently until his body functioned properly again. Then, Astarion pulled the wizard into a sloppy kiss.
"Thank you. It was amazing. I'm looking forward to the next time you find some interesting literature that needs testing to sate your curiosity."
"That's good to know because there's more," smiled Gale.
Astarion snickered and kissed him again.
"I can't wait for our wedding night and our honeymoon. You'll ruin me in so many delicious ways, I'm sure of it."
Gale blushed, flustered.
"Only if you're willing," he mumbled.
Astarion grinned widely, fangs glinting in the candlelight.
"Oh, darling, I'm very willing."
Astarion's presumptions turned out to be right. Gale made him come in some many ways and so many positions, he couldn't remember half of them. All the vampire spawn remembered was how Gale had payed extra attention to his ears, and how they'd made love, with their foreheads touching, their fingers interlaced, and the sinking sun as their witness.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#fanfic#astarion#astarion ancunin#gale#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#karlach#karlach cliffgate#shadowheart#tav#wyll#wyll ravengard#mind the trigger warning#smut#character study#astarion x gale#they're in love your honor#Gale’s a well-read nerd#tara's an icon
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Shadowgast Recs: Featuring Cats
This week, we have a dozen mostly-fluffy fics that feature Caleb and Essek's cats - sometimes Frumpkin, sometimes the ones that come after. Dig in after the cut - and as always, if you liked them, don't be afraid to kudos and comment!
You don’t understand, we don’t hold hands. by comradeartemis (1435,Teen)
Warnings: none
In a modern AU, Caleb and Essek are teachers and Frumpkin has a habit of showing up on zoom
Reccer says: It's very cute!
On our own time, in our own way by royalgreen (allyoop) (1576,Teen)
Warnings: none
Essek learns about New Years wedding traditions. Essek then panics.
Reccer says: It's extremely cute and fluffy
(Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? by Criticalpancake (17758,Mature)
Warnings: none
Caleb and Essek go from friends with benefits to something more with the help of Frumpkin
Reccer says: It's a soft, very pleasant Modern AU set in the post-97 feeling of being attracted to each other but not sure where they stand - and both are more comfortable showing affection to the cats than other people
Herding Cats by roundandtalented (3258,General)
Warnings: none
Essek keeps on bringing home cats, for a very loose definition of cats
Reccer says: It's sweet and soft and there's a little bit of humor
a piece of me that's always somehwere else by essektheylyss (midnightindigo) (4718,Teen)
Warnings: None
The small black cat that Caleb has taken in does not like Essek, until he very much so does.
Reccer says: Very sweet and fluffy, with just enough of a hint of angst to make it tasty
Familiar by Timbrene (8793,Teen)
Warnings: none
Essek's interactions with Frumpkin, before and after the campaign
Reccer says: There's a lot of touching descriptions of Essek learning about cats, interspersed with a lot of yearning
A King in Cat's Clothes by royalgreen (allyoop) (1544,Teen)
Warnings: No warnings
Caleb owns a cat cafe, and Frumpkin is very suspicious of Caleb's new friend.
Reccer says: Frumpkin's POV is amazing and hilarious. Frumpkin does not forgive and does not forget, even though Caleb and Essek are well on their way to becoming soft domestic boyfriends.
Troublemaker by SaltCore (1309,General)
Warnings: none
Essek deals with an unruly kitten. Caleb is smitten.
Reccer says: It feels extremely true to life and all the more adorable for it.
Smoke Sting, Strangled Pulse by thetickingclock (783,Teen)
Warnings: Major Character Death, Lifespan Angst
Two different castings of Find Familiar
Reccer says: It's a short piece, and little bittersweet, but it's very evocative
a healer’s gift by toneofjoy (7280,General)
Warnings: None
When one of Caleb’s cats falls suddenly ill, he seeks help from a druid healer.
Reccer says: This is a cat owner’s dream. It will make you want to give your cat a smooch and maybe cry into their fur, in a good way.
Traveling Elf AMBUSHED by WILD BEASTS by Professor_Rye (2709,General)
Warnings: none
Based on a certain cute video, Essek finds himself targetted by a number of stray cats on the side of the road
Reccer says: It's tooth-rottingly sweet. Just completely adorable
In the Cat’s Tongue by Interrobang (1367,General)
Warnings: None
Caleb gets a magic item that lets him cast speak with animals. He learns secrets from the cats.
Reccer says: I commissioned this and it definitely exceeded expectations! It’s SO sweet, and it’s funny, and it’s like a heated blanket on a cold day. This is definitely every pet owner’s wish fulfillment fic.
Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. And hey! Don’t forget to leave comments and kudos for the lovely authors!
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#critical role#critrole fic recs#shadowgast#cr fic recs#frumpkin criticalrole#caleb widogast#essek thelyss#cr fic#cat owner Caleb widogast#fluff
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The Indignant Pawn, Chapter XVIII: The Eternal Promise
Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.
You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?
OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault (once in the prologue), objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, kissing
Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is the last chapter of The Indignant Pawn! Thank you so much for reading and following along on this story! It means the world to me and I’m so happy that I was able to complete this for you, and so soon. I ended up having more time than I thought, and I was so inspired. I couldn’t start to study for finals without completing this, unfortunately. Please let me know how you feel about the ending. It’s been years in the making.
One more thing, I opened commissions! If you're remotely interested, please check out this post!
Happy Reading!
- Dan
⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER
MASTERLIST
. . .
MAY 12TH, 1892
SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN, GERMANY
It was early noon and you were already exhausted.
Last night, the Glücksburg Castle staff separated you and Ciel the moment your steamship docked at the port. They pulled you apart before you could share much of a goodbye; taking you to the castle in different carriages and in separate routes before showing you to separate quarters. In accordance with common wedding superstition, you weren’t to see Ciel until the wedding ceremony, the next day.
Instead, your company was the bridal party, handpicked by Queen Victoria. The Hesse sisters occupied the full length of the brunch table’s left side, talking amongst themselves.
Despite being married across the continent, they still came in a set of four, the beautiful and elegant daughters of your late Aunt Alice. The eldest, Victoria, was about ten years your senior, married to Louis of Battenberg, the adventurous one. She was engaged in some emphatic discussion with her sister, Elisabeth, one of the most beautiful women in Europe, the papers liked to say.
Elisabeth turned down numerous dukes and princes before Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich captured her heart.
The other two sisters were Irene and Alix, both were shy and withdrawn, at least by comparison to their siblings. Irene was content to let her elder sisters engage the European press, enjoying her serene marriage with Prussian Prince Henry. Meanwhile, Alix was still engaged to Nicholas II of Russia. She was unpopular with the Russian public, but a noted beauty.
“I believe our gowns are soft blue or some shade of periwinkle, are they not?” Victoria of Hesse said ponderously, adding a half-spoonful of sugar into her tea. She had your deceased aunt’s pleasant smile and joking eyes-- at least from what you remembered of Aunt Alice.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Elisabeth replied, “Gangan had our modiste send over my measurements and that was all. Do you know, Marie?” she asked, turning the table’s attention back to you.
“No; Gangan handled all of the wedding planning,” you hoped your tone was light enough to portray amusement. “I haven’t so much as seen my gown, much less yours.” It was true. Nina merely sent your measurements to your Matron of Honor, Aunt Beatrice, and that was all. You were even unsure if the wedding was going to take place at the castle or a traditional church.
“We should hope it is a more vibrant color than blue, no?” Grand Duchess Maria chimed in, seated at the right of the table by Lizzie. You managed to convince your grandmother to allow the Midfords to attend the wedding, so long as you strictly referred to their familial relationship, rather than past engagement. Not to mention, Ciel needed stand-ins in the wedding procession for his parents.
She seemed well-suited to the royal table, easily carrying conversations with the Hesse sisters, and winning over the Grand Duchess. Maria was advertising her and your Uncle Alfred’s son, Alfred II, for Lizzie to consider marrying. They were the Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, and they were looking for a bride for their second son. Lizzie would make a better duchess than you did a princess.
“If it’s a baby blue, I think it could look quite elegant,” Irene said. “Especially if the gentlemen wear deep navy and with chartreuse accents.”
“That’s exactly what I thought!” Lizzie smiled. “That color scheme is perfect for the spring.” Her word of agreement seemed to encourage shy Irene. Lizzie navigated these situations flawlessly, engaging the outspoken, and encouraging the quiet. You respected her ability to infuse cheerful care into every conversation she was a part of, even if it was these sort of superfluous topics.
After all, this was the sort of aimless conversation you had been entertaining all morning. It was endless torture with a side of tea and miniature pastries and finger sandwiches that the other women hardly touched. You would’ve taken the pain that came after Mey-Rin’s grazing bullet over entertaining this group of frivolous women.
“Good morning, everyone!” Princess Beatrice of the United Kingdom entered, carrying a wooden box with both hands. By the tension in her shoulders, it seemed heavy.
Beatrice was your youngest aunt; Queen Victoria’s youngest child. She was Victoria’s known confidante; living with her for years as her secretary. Beatrice and her husband, Henry of Battenberg, made home with Victoria since their early marriage.
And for the next several days, she was to serve as your Matron of Honor.
You were satisfied with that choice, as well. Out of all your grandmother’s daughters, Aunt Beatrice was the most motherly. Marie was fond of her — she was a bridesmaid at her wedding in 1885. You were always most partial to your Aunt Louise, the Duchess of Argyll, but much to your silent chagrin, she was not a part of the wedding party.
The table rose, everyone dropping into a shallow curtsey, though Duchess Maria’s was too quick to be genuinely respectful. Your aunt was too humble to comment on it and make an unnecessary scene. Instead, Beatrice took measured strides towards you, exchanging knowing smiles with the rest of the table.
“Good morning, Aunt Beatrice,” you greeted, swiftly kissing one another on the cheek. “Thank you for being here,” you said, though you doubted the queen gave her the option.
“Of course,” she smiled fondly, setting the heavy box on the table.
“Marie, Aunt Beatrice had to secure your ‘something borrowed’ as it were,,” Victoria of Hesse explained. She gestured to the guard behind Beatrice with the slightest chin tilt. Of course, all traveling jewels from the royal vault needed to be accompanied by a guard and a gun.
“Go on, Marie,” your aunt encouraged, setting the thick wooden box down. “We all spent ages in the vault picking the right one for you.”
You smiled. You hoped it looked more grateful than nauseous as you unclasped the box. Crimson velvet insulated the box’s interior, cushioning the imposing tiara that sat inside. The diamonds sparkled, cut into long, pointed off spikes. Small circle-cut diamonds lined each spike.
This tiara was a piece your grandmother obtained as a gift at the beginning of her reign in 1837, originally commissioned by her uncle, King William IV for his wife.
“Queen Adelaide’s Diamond Fringe,” Aunt Beatrice said, though you knew the name. It was one of the oldest installments in the Royal Collection. Likely sensing your surprise, your aunt chuckled, “it did not take much convincing on the Queen’s part. Not after I insisted it would look best with your wedding gown.”
Reluctantly, you used the cloth included in the box to pick up the tiara, inspecting it more closely. The diamonds sat on the heads of two generations of royal women: Queen Adelaide, Queen Victoria…and now, you. An imposter. Royalty by blood, but of course, not by private association.
“It’s lovely—” you began to say, until your cousin interrupted you.
Elisabeth of Hesse gasped, “Aunt Bea! You’ve seen her dress!” The rest of the table expressed their overlapping speculations, was it lace or tulle? Was the neckline straight across or Queen Anne?
“Elisabeth, Victoria, she would never hint at such a secret, there’s no point in accosting the woman,” Grand Duchess Maria scoffed, taking a cavalier sip out of her tea. She was jealous.
“You will see it tomorrow!” Beatrice replied, laughing. The reminder of tomorrow forced another jolt of anxiety down your spine, but you used the energy to laugh as well. “In the meantime, I was also tasked with escorting you to your fitting, Marie. I do apologize for cutting your breakfast short, ladies.”
“That’s all right,” you smiled, carefully putting the priceless tiara back into its box. The moment you clasped the box, Beatrice’s guard took hold of it. After a reverent bow to the room, he took his leave, likely going to put the tiara into Glücksburg vault.
At least you could escape this useless chatter.
. . .
Given that your day was nothing short of exhausting, you should have had an easier time falling asleep. Yet, you paced Marie’s quarters, restless. It was unsettling to be around all of her recent belongings; letters, left behind clothing, books, her violin. It was as if she was truly on a short vacation in England.
A new lump of guilt rose in your throat.
But more importantly, you wanted to see Ciel. Strangely, after only a day of separation, you missed him.
Having lived together for the past several months, you were accustomed to being around him. Even if some of the time you spent together was quiet, and you only felt his presence at your side.
“I was sent to escort you to my Lord’s room, Miss Y/n,” Sebastian’s voice came from behind you.
Instinctively, you turned on your heel and reached for the closest weapon possible, a small pair of scissors off your vanity. They were hardly big enough to cut thread with. You brandished the scissors in Sebastian’s general direction, but failed to find the voice’s source at first glance. The butler blended with the shadows, wearing nearly all black. He chuckled mirthlessly.
His red eyes were certainly glowing in the dark.
“Yes, Sebastian?” You asked impatiently, putting the scissors back on the table. They wouldn’t be of much help to you, anyway. Nothing would be— not against some… being… that caught bullets.
“My Lord requests your presence in his quarters. Unfortunately, you’ve made him care for you. Considerably,” he said. You hated his smile, the light tone his voice took. You would prefer he yell, or scowl, or frown. Anything to replace the patrronizing look that you knew so well.
“Made him?” You questioned. Your eyebrows knitted together indignantly as you crossed your arms. What was he insinuating?
“Yes,” the butler said bluntly. “You’ve become an unfortunate distraction. A scourge to his soul.” His… soul?
“Thankfully, that is not for you to decide. Any opinion you have is irrelevant to us, Sebastian.” You said, turning your back to him to find flats to slip on. You never knew Sebastian to lie; he certainly wasn’t holding back at that moment.
“I simply want you to be aware that my loyalties will always fall with my master,” Sebastian replied, the undertones in his voice clear enough. If there is a life and death situation tomorrow, I will let you die, if I can.
“Well, you’ve been such an obedient servant, thus far,” you mirrored his obsequious tone, pairing it with your own reprimanding smile. “You ought to keep your Lord’s best interests in mind. Not to worry, Sebastian, I can handle myself.”
“Happy to hear it, Miss Y/n,” Sebastian replied, bowing with a hand over his heart. The gesture was as genuine as Duchess Maria’s greeting to your aunt had been.
“My Lord ordered me to escort you. There are guards in the hallway,” the butler explained. His eyes brightened, daring you to decline him.
You scoffered in disbelief, shaking your head. It was precaution from Diego’s warning, you assumed. “Fine.”
You left the room first, surprised that there was no guard fixed outside your door. Though you knew where you were going, Sebastian led you to the guest wing. Instinctively, you remembered where to step so as not to cause the wooden floor to complain.
Every few paces, Sebastian would have you pause to let a guard pass. Apparently, he sensed them much sooner than you did.
Do some reading about the supernatural after all of this is over with, you reminded yourself. The thought was ridiculous, but there was no harm in investigating. Besides, Sebastian was becoming too unmistakable to continue ignoring.
The moment you knocked on Ciel’s door, Sebastian disappeared. Your fiancé opened the door. Before he could speak, you hugged him tightly, hiding your face in his nightshirt. You breathed in his familiar scent, letting your eyes flutter closed. Your fingers grabbed fistfulls of his shirt, bunching the material around his back. Ciel hardly managed to close the door behind you, locking it to be safe.
“I waited to see you all day,” Ciel said simply, brushing strands of your hair behind your ear when you looked up at him. He pressed a greeting kiss on your cheek. “My groomsmen insisted we explore the city. It was quite a hindrance.”
“Well, I was stuck in a flock of blushing bridesmaids,” you laughed humorlessly. “If I so much as started saying your name, they would throw some fit— something about bad luck.”
“If simply saying my name is bad luck, seeing me must be absolutely damning,” Ciel quipped smugly. He guided you to sit on the edge of his bed, shamelessly regarding you. You returned the favor, your gaze catching on the way his collar bones protruded under his loose nightshirt.
You thought about the last time he sat on the edge of his bed with you present, climbing into his lap, pleasuring yourself against the hardness in his trousers. Technically, you wore more that evening than in this current moment. All you wore was a white nightgown. Nothing under it, nothing over it. It was made of satin, as sheer as a curtain.
Ciel made a respectable effort to look at your face only.
“Tomorrow night, we will be wed,” you said meaningfully, feeling your face flush.
“Yes,” Ciel’s response was impatient, “we will be.” He hated to wait, but he was never one to do something so significant haphazardly. If you were to consummate, you had to be married. But this time tomorrow, you would be.
An amused smile tugged at your lips, “my Aunt Beatrice was giving me…anecdotes about her wedding night.” The interaction had been excruciating during your gown fitting, but now you thought it was rather humorous. Beatrice was a few years past 30— she had three children, another on the way, so it was rumored.
Ciel cringed at the thought of your relative telling you about what takes place behind a couple’s locked door. As if he had no clue, and didn’t want to know. You knew he knew. “And I thought nothing could be worse than my own cousin.”
While your eyebrows knit, initially figuring he was referring to Lizzie, but you took a sigh of relief upon realizing that he was speaking of Edward Midford, her brother. He was Ciel’s best man.
“Better than Sebastian,” you quipped. However, your smile faltered at the thought of the butler. Marrying Ciel meant you were resigning yourself to a life with a powerful, supernatural servant who wanted you dead. If given the chance, he would kill you.
“Y/n?” Ciel frowned, mirroring your disheartened expression.
“It’s nothing. I just…I suppose I’m tired,” you said unconvincingly.
You rested your head on the side of his arm. “Being here…seeing my aunt and cousins. Living in my sister’s room....” It wasn’t the full truth, but certainly wasn’t a lie. There was an unwavering pit in your stomach. A premonition that something was about to go terribly amiss.
“We’re taking the first steamship tomorrow night,” Ciel replied, running his thumb over your knuckles. It was a habit he picked up from you, the way you liked to ground yourself through small, repetitive motions. “I assumed being here would be difficult for you.”
“Where are we going?” The destination of your honeymoon was supposed to be a surprise, one left to Ciel’s careful planning. However, you were never one for surprises, and you would be away for about a month. You deserved to know where you were going to be for such a long span of time.
Ciel replied in French, “Quelque part où il y a du vin, des champs de lavande et une grande tour, ma chère.” He rarely used his second language, considering you couldn’t understand it and he was in the midst of perfecting his German, but it was attractive. You flushed at his graceful accent, the way the complex language suited his voice.
“Ciel…” you started, chuckling fondly.
“Et quand nous y serons, nous ferons des choses innommables les uns avec les autres,” Ciel continued, gauging your reaction. He kissed your cheek and slightly below your jaw before moving your hair out of the way to press a peck on the nape of your neck. The more you were intimate, the more you noticed his fixation with your neck.
As Ciel turned to face you completely, his hand released yours to settle on your bare thigh. You moved further up the bed to make space.
His voice dropped to a whisper, “nous avons tous deux attendu si longtemps.” Your arms erupted with goosebumps as you pulled him closer, his lips centimeters from your own.
For all you knew, he could be stringing nonsense into sentences, but it didn’t matter. It sounded perfect, his tender touch giving way for a new warmth to spread in your stomach.
Your fingers tangled into his hair as you pulled him down against the bedspread with you. The kiss was breathless and all-consuming. It ignited every nerve— down to your toes. You could feel Ciel’s warmth through his shirt, and you were consciously aware of everywhere your skin touched his. His legs bracketed yours.
Giving you a moment to catch your breath, he kissed the center of your throat, your drumming pulse point. He paused, an amused grin playing at his lips.
“What is it?” You managed.
“Do you recall the last time we were in a position like this?”
After a beat of silence, you laughed. “Our dispute! When I nearly broke your nose and ran away.” Even when you hated Ciel, you couldn’t bring yourself to meaningfully injure him.
Ciel hummed in confirmation, though his dubious look suggested he thought your recollection of the altercation was self-serving. “And you still looked like you wanted to kiss me. Even when I held a knife right here,” his fingers grazed over the scar on your throat— a superficial wound above your left carotid.
“Yes… just like this,” you smarted, pulling him close to steal an innocent peck from his lips.
“Yes, I suppose just like that,” Ciel conceded, rolling his eye.
“What’s more, you couldn’t bring yourself to press harder,” you added teasingly, pulling him back in for a long kiss, treating this opportunity to be intimate with your fiancé as if it was your last.
. . .
MAY 13TH, 1892
SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN, GERMANY
You didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror.
Mey-Rin and Nina made elegant work with your makeup; darkening your eyebrows, painting on a blush that made your cheeks look flushed, a lipstick that made your lips appear bitten. After all, obvious makeup was considered fraudulent and deceptive; the work of women who worked street corners, Queen Victoria would say.
Nina twisted your hair into a French twist updo, leaving curled strands out in the front. Queen Adelaide’s Fringe Tiara felt heavy on your head, fastened to your hair with pins. It dug into your scalp, the pain made it impossible for you to forget that it sat there.
Your gown was surprisingly simplistic; it was whiter than snow, free of any lace or bead detailing. Instead of was a sheen of satin, the lustrous fabric beautiful without being flamboyant. Your sleeves, controversially, were off the shoulder, meeting in a seam in the middle of your chest.
To hide the gruesome scar on your arm, you wore matching white gloves that reached your elbows. They were out of season, but there was no way for you to hide the old wound otherwise.
Under such a heavy dress and tiara, you were ready to collapse. Your preparation team had you awake before the sun rose, giving you a small breakfast before stuffing you into a carriage and taking you to the church to get dressed. It was a prayer room made into a makeshift dressing areafor your purposes; security did not want to risk the wedding party arriving at the ceremony in carriages, per tradition. Instead, everyone in the wedding had to get to the church at inane hours to let the guards watch every doorway and window for intruders, once again taking separate carriages in different routes.
You took a deep breath in, trying to settle your nerves. You were marrying the man you loved, someone who understood you in a way that no one since Baxter did. Only…now your life was to belong to the monarchy once more. This wedding ceremony was more symbolic and full of circumstance than romance. It wasn’t yours and Ciel’s. It was Europe’s.
Not to mention, Diego warned you that Mariana had a plan. Mariana…it was still strange to have a real name for the woman. A reason why she was determined to kill you both, but more importantly, Ciel. You couldn’t allow that, even if he did kill her husband.
No matter how security prepared, she was still a threat. She would try to kill the both of you until either she succeeded, or you killed her first. Still, you knew that every possible measure was made. Sebastian would protect Ciel to the bitter end, regardless. That was what mattered.
There was nothing more for you to do besides having the wedding. You laughed at your reflection. You looked like a princess, but what raced through your mind — murder, death threats, the leader of a foreign drug empire — were not regal bride concerns in the least.
And you looked much more calm than you felt. At least you could contain your inner turmoil; stuff it down, sort your worries into neat categories. Impending doom, a death threat, a potentially supernatural butler. Hide it all behind the image of a jubilant princess who balanced the weight of a diamond tiara and a dagger all the same.
Besides, there was no other option. Ciel had an earldom to run, a business to support, an Underworld to terrorize. He was too proud to live in middle class America. He would detest waking up every morning, and that would soon become a hatred for waking up with you. All you could do was marry, and support each other in your new royal family role. Dispel evil together. Dispel Mariana if she attempted to challenge you. Maybe even have a child or two.
You squeezed your eyes closed, thinking about last night. All you needed to do was complete the day, and you would be together. In every way a couple could be together.
There was a stiff knock at the door, forcing you to open your eyes and paint a pleasant expression on your face. “Come in.”
“Marie,” Christian, your eldest brother, entered. You figured he would be walking you down the aisle — giving you away — instead of your father. No one told you, but you had the good sense to expect it. It was well-known that Queen Victoria disliked your father. She didn’t care for Prince Christian I, matching your mother, Princess Helena, with him because she couldn’t find a proper European house to marry her middle child into.
Meanwhile, it was no secret that Victoria favored your brother. The Queen adored him for studying at Wellington College as she wanted, and she found nothing more befitting of a prince than serving in the military. Christian recently returned from an expedition in Isazi as an officer in the British Army. His skin was still lightly tanned from being in South Africa for so long. He wore his uniform and full officer decorations. Other men in the service were likely doing the same; Edward Midford and his father, Lord Scotany.
“Christian,” you were unsure how Marie greeted him, and your hesitance showed. There was a beat of silence as he regarded you.
Christian raised his eyebrow, “why did you do away with Christle?” He was referring to that puerile nickname you both used for him as children.
Marie still referred to him as Christle at this age? He was a military official!
“You’ve been acting differently lately, Marie. Are you sure you love Phantomhive? Is this what you want to do?” Christian asked, worry furrowing his eyebrows. He looked like you when you were apprehensive, the same level stare, pursed lips.
“How am I different?” You asked. It was easy to act around Queen Victoria and your mother— anyone who spent more time worrying about themselves or their positions to really understand the difference between you and your sister. But Christian was more complicated. He was your authority figure while your mother was opening hospitals abroad and your father worked. Christian spent plenty of time playing with Marie, admonishing you for being lax in your duties as a child. As the eldest, he was 16 the second time you ran away, 15 the first.
You felt like you were nine years old again, getting admonished for refusing to ride a horse side saddle, or for getting mud all over your dress before the family portrait.
“You’re…acting quite like Thora,” Christian said, his militant eyes practically staring into your soul. You tried not to grimace at your old nickname.
He wasn’t accusing you; his voice was thoughtful or concerned, if anything. “Aunt Beatrice was worried, too. I only…” he paused. “I only want to ensure that this marriage is what you want. You will always be my younger sister, even if I’m supposed to be giving you away.”
The honorable Prince Christian never changed.
“If I’ve been somber…I don’t mean to be,” you replied. “I…the past few months of my life have been terrifying. I know you were away in Africa but there was a death threat sent to court. On my life. The Phantomhive manor was even attacked, months ago,” you rolled down your glove to show him the injury. If you could persuade your brother, no one would question you.
Christian sighed, his face unchanging. The military seemed to desensitize him to these sorts of wounds. He inspected the healed scar, and nodded once. “It healed well. Phantomhive’s medic is rather talented,” he admitted gruffly. The irony being, that the medic was Sebastian, a monster who wanted you dead.
You pulled the glove back over your forearm. Christian didn’t argue with you, but you knew he was unconvinced. Before he could speak, the quick notes of Mendelsson’s Wedding March reverberated throughout the church, preceded by soul-shattering chords. That was your cue to join the procession.
Christian glanced at the clock to confirm the time was right. “We have to join the others,” he offered his arm. You laced yours with his, and two servants you didn’t know picked up your gown’s long train.
When you joined the procession from behind, the first of the wedding party was already walking down the aisle. First was Queen Victoria, accompanied by her secretary and two guards; the Officiant; Lord and Lady Scotany as they filled in for Ciel’s deceased parents; your parents; Ciel and his groomsmen. You and Christian joined from the hall behind the doors to the Sanctuary, so you didn’t see any of them before they walked.
Instead, you saw the middle of the procession: your bridesmaids, the Hesse sisters, Cornelia, and Aunt Beatrice. Cornelia was one of your bridesmaids because her husband, Edward, was Ciel’s best man. It was more of a formality, than a show of closeness between you.
After them was the ring bearer and the flower girl, respectively. While you expected Victoria to insist the roles be fulfilled by your younger cousins, she allowed Ciel to fill those positions from his own friends and family. He asked little Beatrice Moore and her betrothed, Theodore Ambrose, the next Earl of Granard. Beatrice was still giggling at the fact that she shared a name with a real princess, your Aunt Beatrice.
You settled behind the children. Little Beatrice nearly missed her cue because her eyes were locked on your tiara and seemingly endless gown. Beatrice waved at you vigorously, causing you to smile. “Marie! You look so beautiful!” She exclaimed, shooting Theodore an irritated look when he tapped her shoulder and reminded her to walk with him.
One of the servants handed you a bouquet of flowers, alstroemerias with white roses, and baby's breath incorporated. It was your turn to walk down the aisle with your brother, but you couldn’t help but wish it was Baxter at your side. That this wedding had less people, a tiara that didn’t weigh more than your brain…
Smile. You urged yourself not to buckle under the weight of everyone’s states. Everyone stood for the entire wedding procession, given that Queen Victoria was standing as well. No one sat while the highest-ranking royal stood.
First, you passed the servants and guards in the furthest pews from the altar. Mey-Rin dabbed at her tears from under her glasses, Finny waved, Baldroy nodded once. Nina smiled at you, gesturing for you to keep walking in time with the music. You had paused for a half second, attempting to find Sebastian. The awkward timing forced Christian to stop his stride to let you catch up.
You didn’t see Sebastian, and you were unsure if that caused you more anxiety, or alleviated it.
Strictly-screened journalists and press members were in the pews in front of the servants. Their cameras clicked, lenses immortalizing the moment. You smiled for them, struggling to find a place to look.
The music echoed throughout the Sanctuary, overly cheerful. It was the same chords repeating on the grand organ behind the altar.
Closer to the altar were the aristocratic and the royal guests. Several faces stuck out to you— your Aunt Victoria, the Queen’s eldest child; brother, Albert; Aunt Louise; Mateo and Valentina Bianchi ; the heirs to the English throne, Uncle Edward and Alexandra of Denmark.
You caught Lizzie’s emerald gaze; she was in the front row, to the side. She looked at you before pointedly looking ahead of her. Look at the man you love. The rest of the world will simply fall away. She was too empathetic for her own good, sometimes.
As you took your concluding steps towards the altar, you finally looked at Ciel. She was right. Your heart flipped immediately, taking in his deep navy suit. He had a white rose tucked pinned over his chest, his signature flower. The tie tucked into his jacket was a soft pink; pale enough that you thought it was white at first glance. The rest of the wedding party coordinated with him, the bridesmaids wearing the same pink, and the groomsmen the same blue.
Ciel didn’t smile broadly, but you knew better than to fixate on that. Instead, the corners of his lips turned upwards. He took in your appearance slowly, as if he were fixating on a painting. Inspecting every detail with the intensity of someone trying to commit each brush stroke to memory.
At the altar, you took your place across from Ciel. Christian stood behind you, to the officiant’s side. Aunt Beatrice took your bouquet for you.
All you needed to do was finish the ceremony, and you would have the man across from you all to yourself for the next month. Just you, him, Carl, and the servants abroad in some beautiful place. There was no royal tour— all you needed to do was attend Alix of Hesse and Nicholas II’s wedding in Russia as guests.
The thought of such solitude was elating. It helped your smile widen naturally, though your cheeks were beginning to sting.
The music quieted into a small, soothing tune that the officiant could speak over.
“Welcome, everyone,” the officiant said. He was an agind man with kind blue eyes and a thoughtful smile. There was a gold wedding band on his left ring finger, matching his red and gold robes. “Please be seated. Thank you all for joining us on this joyous day and cloudless afternoon.”
“Every one of you today has been invited today because you, in one way or another, shaped the lives of these lovely individuals standing before me, Her Highness Princess Marie Louise of Schleswig-Holstein and Lord Ciel Phantomhive.”
Not hearing your name hurt you more than you thought it would have.
“For those of you I have not had the chance to meet, my name is Reverend Arthur Green. I have officiated the past…six… royal weddings,” he said with a flourish, making a show of counting. There were scattered laughs in the audience in response. Green was close with the Queen, who sat in a distinguished throne to the side of the author with her Munshi, Abdul Karim. Notably, not all of her children were present— likely for security reasons.
Reverend Green continued, “we were all taken by surprise by this sweeping love connection, but seeing the way these two beautiful souls regard one another, their love is strong and true.”
You felt your face redden, matching the new flush over Ciel’s cheeks.
“I have vows prepared for both the bride and groom,” Green announced. Neither of you expressed a desire to write your own vows, and you doubted the Queen would have let you. She was reluctant with royalty expressing such passionate feelings in public, preferring to preserve the dignified appearance her Royal Mob upheld.
“Please repeat my words, Your Highness,” he requested, forcing you to refocus.
You repeated. “I, Marie, take thee, Ciel Phantomhive, 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; and I promise to be faithful to you until death parts us.”
Ciel repeated the same vow, having the same reluctance with saying your name. No, Marie’s name.
This is just the beginning, Y/n.
Ciel broke into a broader smile, yours matching his. His blue eye seemed even darker in the sunset. When you looked at him, you saw your honeymoon, your future, your husband. Your closest friend and confidante. Your heart fluttered, your mouth was dry. More than anything, you wanted to kiss him.
When you looked at him, you forgot about the weight of the tiara on your head.
“Your Highness, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Lord Phantomhive, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forever?” Reverend Green asked.
“Yes!” You said more enthusiastically than you meant to. The guests laughed, and out of the corner of your eye, you caught Lizzie’s amused grin. You cleared your throat, “yes, I do.”
“And Lord Phantomhive, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Her Highness, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forever?”
“Indeed, I do,” Ciel’s reply was much calmer than yours, but his face was full of love. It made your eyes sting, as if you could cry. You tried to blink the forming tears away. You thought about what his lips feel like, how his arms feel when they wrapped around you to combat your surfacing feelings.
The both of you already loved, honored, cherished, and protected each other. You’d do it forever, if that’s what the Fates had in store for you.
Reverend Green nodded at Theodore, preparing the child to get ready for his cue to bring your wedding rings up to the altar.
Theodore nodded aggressively in response, tightening his grip on the small cushion with your rings. The audience laughed, but you couldn’t make yourself look away from Ciel to survey their responses any longer.
Green grinned, his eyes brimming with tears as well. At least you weren’t alone in your tragically sentimental feelings. “Now, if there is anyone present, who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace,” he declared, naturally assuming that no one in the audience would protest.
The gasps and screams forced you to look away from Ciel and into the audience as it rippled, devolving into chaos. They dove away from a singular woman who stood, aiming a small purse gun at the altar.
Guards sprang into action, their guns unlocking, but they couldn’t shoot with terrified guests fleeing and hiding. Mey-Rin argued with a soldier, likely in an effort to take his weapon and fire. She was the best shot there, but you assumed the guards refused to let her bring a weapon in.
You didn’t need to look longer to know what was about to happen. You refused to let it.
Before you knew what you were doing, you moved. You pulled yourself out of Christian’s restrictive grip, and pushed Ciel to the ground, just as the woman shot. The shot sounded throughout the Sanctuary, amongst the course of screaming guests, shouting guards and crying guests.
You remained standing, merely feeling a searing warmth rip through your left chest. It was nothing like Mey-Rin’s grazing bullet. In fact, it hurt less. It was hot like nothing you’ve ever touched, but it didn’t hurt. Not even the hot stove you touched by accident as a child compared to the sensation in your chest.
Ciel managed to pull himself off the ground, startled by your hard shove. He’d tripped down the short steps and hit his head, but otherwise, he seemed unharmed. You would have been relieved, had he not been staring at you in panic.
“Y/n,” he managed, horrified.
But you name was lost amid the chaos. Before you dared look down, you took a quick survey of the rest of the Sanctuary. Queen Victoria and most of the guests fled or hid, guards shielding their escape. Edward sprung in front of Cornelia, the Reverend, Theodore, and Beatrice. The children cried for their parents, who were likely forced to leave with the guards.
Reverend Green trembled behind the altar, bear hugging young Beatrice and Theodore, the Hesse sisters and Aunt Beatrice fell to the floor, covering their heads. Your brother stood before them, gun drawn. Royalty received crisis training for situations like this.
Mariana was gone, having used the chaos to make her escape.
“Edward, take the kids!” Cornelia demanded, “get them to their parents.”
“I will not leave you,” Edward Midford insisted, his voice trained to be steady in the face of danger. He was a soldier, like Christian.
“I-I can,” Reverend Green said, trembling. “Come on, children. We must— we must, go.” He tried to let go of them, but Beatrice held on, hiding her face in the man’s robes.
“I’ll make sure nothing happens to them,” Green assured Cornelia, but neither child seemed interested in leaving.
“Y/n!” Ciel shouted, his face red as if he’s been trying to capture your attention. He put his hand on your shoulder, but he was trembling. His gaze alternated between your chest and your face, and you made the mistake of looking down at your fresh wound. At the fresh crimson blood that blossomed on the left side of your dress’s bodice. It was in the middle of your left breast— the third or fourth rib you assumed.
“Oh,” you managed. Your legs buckled, but Ciel caught you and carefully helped you to the floor. He tore his jacket off and pressed it against the wound, hard enough for you to cry out in pain. The ease that he pressed indicated that the bullet fractured your ribs. Ciel sensed that the wound gave way too easily and paled.
You took a difficult breath in, shivering despite the warm bullet in your chest. Your teeth chattered.
Pain, tenderness, difficulty breathing, you told yourself. Baxter always said that self-assessment came first. It was a small gun. The best you could hope for was a fractured rib, but the way your chest gave way to Ciel’s pressure suggested it was shattered.
“Why can a shattered rib be dangerous, Y/n?” Baxter asked.
Massive bleeding from ruptured blood vessels, bone fragments from the rib can puncture a lung… or my heart.
Air could build around the lung and cause a tension pneumothorax… assuming the bullet didn’t puncture the lung and do that already.
“Ciel, keep the pressure steady,” Cornelia said. You forgot she was a nurse. Maybe you had a chance, if it wasn't a tension pneumothorax. But you never had that kind of luck. “Help me check for an exit wound,” she said to someone on your right side. The three of them lifted your torso up, and confirmed that you were also bleeding out from the back. They ripped the satin from your gown and used another man’s jacket to slow that bleeding while Ciel held pressure on your front.
“We need a carriage to get her to a hospital,” Cornelia declared, checking your pulse.
“I-I think the guests took them all,” Lady Scotany said, “Alexis— go check. For a guard, a doctor, a commoner with a carriage, anyone.” With a grim nod, Alexis Midford ran with Baldroy and Mey-Rin.
“Marie, I know it hurts but I need you to do your best to breathe. And wiggle your fingers,” Cornelia said, but you were more concerned with Ciel. His hands were soaked with your blood, despite Aunt Beatrice continuously giving him new material to help stop the bleeding with.
“Marie!” Cornelia repeated. When you didn’t respond, she turned to Ciel. “Ciel, you need to tell her to breathe,” she said, “she will listen to you.”
You were Marie, even when you had a bullet in your chest. It was a cruel joke.
Were you not breathing? Was that why your lungs were aflame? Was that why your throat was constricting? Was that why your vision coated in white, and your ears rang like church bells?
Ciel trembled, but he nodded. “Look at me,” he ordered, “breathe. You need to breathe.” Breathing hurt. It hurt more than any pain you ever experienced in your life. It hurt more than your arm. Inhaling hurt more than the bullet itself hurt.
“T-trying…” you managed.
“You’re doing well, Marie, it’s okay,” Lizzie said, sniffling. Your head was in her lap, though you were unsure when she showed up. “J-just focus on breathing.”
My ribs are broken. I probably have a tension pneumothorax, you wanted to cry out. But your voice wasn’t cooperating. You could feel your rationality slipping out with the same urgency blood bubbled from your wound.
Cornelia cut your bodice open, cutting through the dress and corset. Finny gave his jacket to Lady Scotany to drape over the right side of your chest, for your modesty. As if that was the most concerning part of the situation.
“Take a deep breath in,” Ciel said, repeating Cornelia’s words. You shivered, struggling to do as told. Your lungs were already full— as if you took an inhale prior, held it, and tried to inhale again, all without exhaling.
“Abnormal lung sounds,” Cornelia drew back to watch your chest as you struggled to breathe. “Asymmetrical expansion of the chest,” she mumbled gravely.
The problem with being right all the time, meant that you had also diagnosed yourself correctly. And this diagnosis was fatal without near-immediate treatment.
“What does that mean?” Ciel insisted. “Cornelia!” He shouted, but the nurse didn’t meet his gaze.
“It probably means it’s a…tension pneumothorax,” Cornelia admitted.
“She got away,” you heard Baldroy say from a distance, returning with Lord Scotany. He shouldered his coat off to let Lady Scotany put it beneath the exit wound on your back. “Guards were too concerned with gettin’ the royals to safety. Took all the carriages, too.”
“What does that mean, Cornelia?” Ciel shouted.
“Where is Sebastian?” Lizzie asked, trying to keep her voice level. She removed the heavy tiara from your head and gently smoothed her fingers over your hair.
“Sebastian?” Lady Scotany asked. “He’s getting another carriage. We need to get her to the hospital.”
You wanted to laugh. With Sebastian getting the carriage, you were surely going to bleed out— or die of hypoxia— whichever came first. You were going to die in front of an altar. In a church. At your own wedding.
“Cornelia!” Ciel yelled.
“Ciel, shut up and let me work!” Cornelia put her ear to your chest again.
“Air is building around the outside of her lungs, rather than inside because the bullet— or a bone fragment punctured it,” Christian said, pitying your…husband? Fiancé?
“The air puts pressure around the punctured lung, and that strains that lung and her heart. Since the lung is punctured, air keeps getting stuck when she inhales, so there is no room for it to expand when she breathes,” your brother explained.
Your lung definitely collapsed. The well-meaning pressure Ciel put on the wound couldn’t be helping, either.
“Hyperresonant chest percussion,” Cornelia noted under her breath. Her concerned frown deepened.
“Cornelia, her neck,” Christian added calmly. He kneeled at your other side, across from Ciel, light fingers touching your throat, feeling for your trachea. “Tracheal deviation to the right and distended neck veins.”
“Tension pneumothorax,” they said in synchrony, sharing a look.
“So what can we do?” Lizzie cried out.
“Dying,” you mumbled, fully believing that these were your final moments. The procedure you needed was impossible on the floor of the church. If Sebastian was tasked with the carriage, you weren’t going to get there in time. And he was why you were shot, in the first place.
He caught bullets. He wanted you dead…it was simple. Bloody demon.
That’s what he was, wasn't he?
“We need a large bore needle!” Christian exclaimed.
“A needle? Whatever for?” Lizzie cried out.
“To evacuate the air,” Cornelia said, “but we don’t have the right kind here.”
“So what do we do?”
“You are not dying, you utter imbecile,” Ciel insisted, steady tears streaming down his face. You weren’t sure if he noticed that his forehead was bleeding, much less the salty tears streaming down his cheeks. “She was bloody aiming at me.”
You wanted to reach out and wipe the tears off of his face, but your arm was limp at your side, refusing to obey. You could wiggle your fingers, but you couldn’t quite muster the strength to lift the limb. You tried again, but your arm fell to your side uselessly.
You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding in your brain. It was a welcome change from the terrible ringing.
“I’m s-..sorry,” you managed, but it was a lie. If you hadn’t pushed Ciel, it might have hit him. If the man you loved died from your inaction, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for it.
You felt there was a constrictive corset around your brain, tightening and tightening. Your breathing was rapid, in out, in out, in out. You could feel your head throb in time with your heart. With every inhale you managed, you got less air.
But even so, you would do it again.
“They’re not going to have the right needle here, we have to burp the wound.” Cornelia said. “Otherwise, she’ll suffocate before the carriage gets here.”
“Burp the wound?” Ciel asked incredulously.
“The air caught in the pleural space won’t come out safely and she’ll suffocate if we don’t let air escape the opening that’s already there. Ciel, you need to step aside for a moment,” Cornelia explained.
“But— but, she’s still bleeding! I’m…stopping the bleeding! She will bleed out if I stop!” Ciel argued, looking from his bloody hands on the wound to your paling face. Back and forth once more.
“She’s going to die of hypoxia if you don’t let the air out of the lung cavity, Ciel.” Christian said. “You need to move, or I will move you.” Christian was much taller than Ciel. It would’ve been as simple as moving a chess piece.
Ciel moved reluctantly, and switched spots at your side with Christian.
Cornelia moved the blood-soaked dressing from the wound, and you caught a quiet rush of air before she put fresh dress fabric over it once more. It was only a little easier for you to breathe before it grew difficult again. However, she quickly removed the dressing when she noticed you beginning to strain. The nurse repeated the process in tandem with your discomfort.
You shivered, watching the world above you— Ciel’s face, Lizzie’s, your brother’s. The world was brighter, it was blurry. And then it was refined. It was vibrant, and then it wasn’t. Vibrant, clear, blurry, bright…
Was this what Baxter saw? you wondered.
“No, Y/n. It’s not your time, yet.” Baxter said. “You need to wait. You need to try to live. The doc’s comin’ in a carriage with his supplies. He will be there. Just hold on. We’re all here for you every step of the way. You will not die.”
Earnest Baxter.
You refocused on Ciel. His face was clear, and vibrant. And then it was blurry. It was bright. He was still bleeding. He was still handsome.
You put all of your focus into your next words. “I love you,” you managed. Your eyes fluttered closed, it was getting too hard to concentrate and keep them open.
“No, don’t you dare say that!” Ciel demanded. “You will not die. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” his fingers felt warm on your face, they smelled like blood. Your eyes fluttered open again. You smiled weakly.
You weren’t sure what you would do without Ciel, either.
“It’s…not my intent to but…” that might be out of my hands.
This was supposed to be the day you eternally promised yourselves to one another, but apparently, plans sometimes went awry. Sometimes, the determined widow got her happy ending.
But you won too. All because the last face you were going to see was the face of the man you loved.
“Surgeon’s here! He’s got supplies!”
Hold on, Y/n.
. . .
Acknowledgements:
First of all, I want to thank everyone on Amino (who I unfortunately, didn’t keep in contact with) for telling me that the first 2 chapters of this fic were worthwhile. Without motivation from them, I never would have felt inspired enough to keep developing this idea.
I also want to thank my best friend for listening to me rant about this piece. About the hours and hours of research about historical figures, laundry in the 1890s, makeup in the 1890s, speech, Victorian slang terms, hair, names, German breakfast food, types of tea, Victorian wedding traditions, serial killers, post-traumatic stress disorder, bilingualism, travel, everything. Even anatomy, dangerous chemicals, ages of me studying self-defense, waltz, and harp tutorials on YouTube. I even did the math-- Cornelia really is an 8th-generation New Yorker! I sat down and put a half hour into making a very preliminary family tree for her. Don’t even get me started on how many times I watched the anime and took notes on the cast’s speech and mannerisms. I even scoured Pinterest for reference pictures, outfit inspiration…everything you could ever want. It all amounted to 300+ pins to my TIP board, and exactly 127,411 words.
I digress. My best friend is so motivating, and without her telling me not to force myself to write when I don’t feel it, you guys wouldn’t have gotten anything close to this quality of work. In fact, she’s also a bit responsible for a scene in this chapter.
I also want to thank Sweet Anon, mylostleftfootsock, katherine101, for consistently reaching out to me in asks, DMs, and commenting. You all motivate me so much, and there’s nothing quite like knowing that the story I write touches you. Without knowing people were really engaging with what I put out, writing would have taken a lot longer, if it happened at all.
Thank you all, so much. I’m so grateful for every single read.
I can't wait to share my next projects with you. I'll even give you a few hints to make up for this ending: Ciel Phantomhive, ballerina!reader, fake courtship, serial killer. Do with this what you will <3
Love, Dan
#the indignant pawn#ciel phantomhive x reader#ciel phantomhive#ciel phantomhive x y/n#ciel phantomhive x you#black butler fanfic#anime fanfiction#historical fiction#historical romance
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The Kingdom of Us
Chapter 6
pairing: Kyungsoo x OFC
genre: Royal!AU, nonidol!soo, crownprince!kyungsoo, romance, drama
theme: arranged marriage, modern royalty, enemies to lovers, war, betrayal, eventual smut
word count: 5,277
description: the Engagement Ball has finally arrived, so has Alina’s best friend Lisette. Drama unfolds as soon as the Royal Wedding date is announced, and Kyungsoo warms up to the idea of loving Alina.
warnings: none (:
author’s note: hello, dear reader! We’re already at chapter 6! I loved this chapter, it’s so cute. We start to see Kyungsoo and Alina get out of their awkward stage. No warnings for this chapter, photos are not mine, dividers by @saradika-graphics . Happy reading!
KYUNGSOO
I watch Alina as she sleeps on my chest. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was too busy making sure Alina stayed asleep. She didn’t wake up screaming for safety, if I noticed her hands gripping me, I’d soothe her by stroking her hair and whispering sweet nothings until her muscles relax and her head rests back on my chest. With the hours that passed, my mind was set on how I could make that piece of trash Daniel pay for every single second of pain he made Alina endure.
The moment that Alina broke down and told me what that coward did to her, rage flared through me. Everything started to make sense. How she was apprehensive to be alone with me, the nightmares, the distance she created between us and how she’d tense up every time I touched her. My feelings for her shifted, I needed to make her feel safe. She never felt safe before, not even in her own palace.
My heart flutters as Alina stirs. She cuddles into me with her lips pouted. I trace circles on her bare shoulder, admiring how her glowing golden skin was as smooth as porcelain and warmed my fingertips. I barely know the surface of Alina and now she makes me want to learn so much more about her so I can be so much better for her. Alina’s eyes slowly flutter open and I feel my heart stop when her gaze falls onto me.
“Good morning. How did you sleep, darling?” I smile down at her. A look of apprehension crosses her face. I can’t pretend that this is a comfortable situation, but in times like these, faking it until you make it is the only option.
“I don’t remember falling asleep,” Alina yawns. She rests her head on my shoulder. “I guess that means I slept well. What time is it?”
“Eight in the morning.” I reply, stifling a yawn myself. Alina frantically sits up, her hand reaching for my face and lands softly on my cheek.
“Kyungsoo, you look exhausted! Did you sleep at all? Please tell me you slept.” Alina asks anxiously.
“I did… At some points in the night,” I shrug, “I meant it when I said I’d keep you safe. But that isn’t something you should worry about. I requested your favorite foods be prepared for you to enjoy in bed. Don’t look at me like that, darling. I’ll be fine.”
“Breakfast in bed? Kyungsoo, you should’ve been more worried about sleeping.”
“I’ll sleep tonight, I promise. Breakfast in bed is mandatory for special days like this. It’s our Ball tonight. This is just a glimpse of what your life will be like. All you have to do is show up next week at the altar.” I laugh. There’s a knock at the door and Alina rushes to get it, grabbing a robe that’s hanging on a rack near her bed. Her curves take my attention until she’s out of sight, her sleepy voice greeting a servant. She returns pushing a food cart, I jump out of bed and take over.
“Sit down, darling. I’ll serve you today.” I kiss her hand and guide her back to the bed, she sits with her back against the headboard and I serve her breakfast, a traditional meal from Valencia. Plantains, cream, eggs and beans. In my crash courses of Alina, I learned that this is her favorite. I take my portion and sit across from her, leaving the fresh brewed coffee next to her.
“Kyungsoo,” she beams, “this… I’ve missed this. How did you know this is my favorite?”
“I did my research.” I smirk. We eat and share small conversation about the meal itself, and her eyes glitter with excitement. She’s coming to life right before my eyes, Baekhyun was absolutely right. Treating Alina kindly is much better than what I have been doing. In all my hours of carefully watching over her, I came up with a plan to hopefully make her feel stronger and protect herself if and when I’m sent to the battlefield. “I’ve been thinking of something Princess.”
“Oh? What have you been thinking about?” She replies, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“I’m going to train you how to handle a sword. I may not always be here to protect you, and you deserve to feel powerful.” I tell her.
“Sword lessons? Kyungsoo…” Alina groans. “Believe me, my brothers tried to teach me but it always ended badly. I’ve seen you during your drills, there’s absolutely no way I can learn the things that you can do.”
“Well, that was your brothers. I’ll be the one teaching you this time. We don’t know what’s going to happen, but I want you to be prepared for anything.” I add. She nods her head slowly in agreement. She finishes her meal and kisses my cheek, my skin ignites under the pressure of her lips. She really is changing me if I’m blushing like a little kid.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, I’m horrible with weapons. Now, if you don’t mind, Kyungsoo, my best friend and seamstress is arriving today. I need to get ready.” Alina replies. I smirk and lean back, crossing my leg. “Kyungsoo!”
“What? I can’t sit here and finish my breakfast?”
“You already did!”
“Fair, but I still have to make sure you’re safe and I can’t do that from another room.” I jokingly barter. Alina shakes her head with an accompanying eye roll and journeys to her walk-in closet, picking out clothes to wear for the day. Without a word, she just looks me, smiles and shuts the door to her bathroom.
At least she’s this comfortable with me now.
ALINA
“Announcing Miss Lisette Villanueva, Royal Seamstress and Designer of the Kingdom of Valencia.” A Royal Guard announces Lisette’s entrance. We try to keep our composure, but we yelp when we see each other.
“Amiga!”
“Finally, we meet again!” Lisette beams. “I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you, too, Lissy.” I grab her hands.
Lisette and I have known each other for years. Her mother, Eva, is the owner of a dress shop called Luna Rosa Designs that became my favorite place to get all of my dresses and gowns for events. The designer labels from around the world are beautifully made, I admire the couture houses in Europe as much as the next person. There was a certain quality of Eva’s designs and dresses that captivated me.
I’ve been wearing her dresses ever since I was a little girl. I only wanted Eva to design my formal wear as I got older. Unfortunately, as time went on Eva became ill and couldn’t work as she did before. Lisette took over the business and created not only my formal gowns for nights like this, but my wedding gown.
I of course had friends, but Lisette was the closest one I had. We grew up together, played together and I got to live vicariously through her because she got to go to regular school and have a regular life. We had our differences but that’s what made our friendship so special. When she had her first heartbreak, we watched romantic comedies and ate junk food until we were laughing at the sappy storylines. When my brothers were sent off to war, she cried with me. When she sold her first couture gown, we celebrated by traveling to the beach for a weekend and exploring the coast of Valencia. I want her to be my lady in waiting, the highest position she could have, because I can’t imagine anyone else being in the position but my best friend.
“Come, come, let me show you to your room.”
We try to update each other as quickly as we can as we turn into the first-floor suite that’s the largest on the floor. Lisette giddily sets her bag down on the bed and peered out of the window at Kyungsoo and the Dukes having a drink in the garden. Everyone started arriving little by little since this morning, the Castle was being prepped for the Ball slowly but surely. Kyungsoo glances over at us and gives us a small smile, Lisette eagerly turns to me with glee in her eyes while maids bring in the rest of her luggage. “Oh… My… God… He’s even more beautiful in person… Well, through a window.”
Kyungsoo’s eyes lock with mine and my heart breaks at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes. I can’t believe he didn’t sleep at all last night. “He is a beautiful man, there’s no denying that.”
“I’m so jealous, he looks at you like you’re his world… Alina, aren’t you so excited to marry a man that’s so perfect?” If only she knew the half of it.
“He’s not perfect, but he definitely makes me feel special.” I blush, waving softly at my betrothed. She smiles and Duke Yixing captures his attention back to their conversation.
“Whoa… Who is that?” Lisette’s gaze is set on someone but I can’t see who until a familiar tall figure walks across the edge of the lawn. He’s been acting strangely and avoiding Kyungsoo. I hope I didn’t cause this from the whole garden fiasco.
“Him? That’s Duke Chanyeol.” I nod, crossing my arms. I peer over at my best friend and the look in her eyes is like she fell in love.
“Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?” Lisette clasps her hands in front of her chest.
“Ya, Amiga!” I push her arm playfully. “He’s a playboy! Don’t get too close to him.”
“Princess, it’s time for the final dress rehearsal for the dance tonight.” A maid appears in the doorway with a giddy smile. “Please come with me.”
“I’m sorry, Lissy. I’ll be back to see you soon, this shouldn’t take long.”
“Take all the time you need, Amiga! I’m sorry, I mean, Princess.” Lisette giggles, bowing to me. “Make sure to kiss those scrumptious lips your fiancé has as much as you can… Amiga, he is gorgeous.”
“Who’s gorgeous?” Duke Chanyeol says from behind us. His lip is slightly bruised, I don’t even want to know what happened to him.
“Duke Chanyeol… Are you alright?” I ask in a hushed tone.
“Oh, this?” He smiles, pointing to his wound. “Your dear fiancé and I had a little boxing match. He has a mean right hook.”
“When did that…”
“Hi, I believe we haven’t met yet. I’m Duke Chanyeol.” He turns his attention to Lisette, kissing her hand. There’s something about the men in the Doh Dynasty and kissing the hands of women. They know exactly how effective it is. Lisette is frozen in the moment and I cover my mouth to stifle my giggles. Chanyeol looks at her differently than he’s looked at his paramours, or even at me. He has stars in his already bright eyes, and Lisette’s gaze matches his.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Chanyeol. I’m Lisette Villanueva, Princess Alina’s seamstress.” Lisette politely bows and Chanyeol nods, not taking his eyes off of her. I smile to myself as Chanyeol and Lisette start a conversation, if anyone is qualified to handle someone like Chanyeol it’s Lisette. They’re completely enamored with how their eyes locked on each other.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll see you later!” I know they can’t hear me, I chuckle to myself and make my way to the makeshift practice area so Kyungsoo and I can do one final dance before the real thing. I open the door and Kyungsoo is waiting with his hands in his pocket. “Crown Prince.”
“Princess.” He smirks. He holds his hand out and spins me toward him. “Ready, darling?”
“Of course, Crown Prince.” Once we start gliding across the floor, my guard slips down. I wish it didn’t, because I could’ve used it for what was going to happen tonight.
“My goodness, Princess, you are a vision.” Lisette gushes. Maids gather and gawk at me, their attention makes me uncomfortable.
“Thank you, Amiga.” I reply. The Engagement Ball commenced an hour ago. All of Seoul’s high society and influencers were in attendance, awaiting to see what I would be wearing. It’s superficial at best, but a job hazard nonetheless. I do love getting dressed up for Balls and special events, but I had never been as nervous as I am tonight. Rumors circulated on everything from the color of my gown to the designer, and if I would live up to Seoul’s biggest standards of the future wife of the Beloved Crown Prince.
My appreciation for Lisette’s designs increased as I looked in the mirror, admiring the ball gown that fit like a glove. Butterflies and flowers make up the bodice of the dress and off the shoulder sleeves, embellished butterflies circle the waist and skim down to the bottom of the skirt. I chose to wear my hair half and half down in loose curls with my Valencian tiara sitting atop my head.
“Is it almost…”
“Excuse me, may I have a word with the Princess?” I turn my head to see Samira at the door. Great. My maids and Lisette turn toward me and I nod, careful not to show the irritation on my face. They file out of the room and Samira closes the door. “Alina! I’m so glad that you invited me. You look so stunning, the Crown Prince isn’t gonna want to wait to rip this gown off of you later!”
I narrow my brow, confusion filling my mind. “… Thank you?”
“That’s not the reason I’m here. I am here to give a word of advice to you, Alina.” Samira explains, crossing her arms.
“What advice must you give to me right now, Samira?” I ask carefully, knowing ears and eyes are all around waiting for me to slip up in the slightest.
“Princess, don’t get too close to Kyungsoo. I hate to tell you this on our big day but Kyungsoo and I... We’ve been secretly dating. Him and I are much closer than you might have thought. He asked me to meet him tonight after the Ball, and he is a very needy man. I’m surprised he’s still asking me for favors when he finally has you. Then again, you don’t seem like the rule breaking type. You’re nothing but the formality on his way to the Crown.”
“I see.” Fury blazes underneath my skin. It angered me that I couldn’t show it or tell Samira exactly how I felt about her and the fact that she slept with my fiancé.
“Oh, sweetie, you had to have seen this coming. It wasn’t obvious we were together when I was constantly talking about the guy I was seeing? I’m just saving you the heartache of finding out that I’ll be the one in his bed, giving him what he really wants.”
“Samira, I don’t have time or energy for this. I have to go dance with my fiancé. The same fiancé that called you a one-off thing. It’s amazing how you backstab me and have the guts to attend our engagement ball. Now if you’ll excuse me, Crown Prince Kyungsoo is waiting for me.” I snap with hot cheeks. I’m not one to be so bold but I have to be now.
I silently bow to the fuming Princess and walk past her, internally crumbling with each step I took to the large double doors to the ballroom entrance. What is it that Samira thinks she knows? I wondered if there was any truth to what she said, because it’s unheard of for another Princess to be a concubine. I think of how oddly kind he’s been to me lately, there has to be a reason behind it. Was it to introduce Samira as his real love? Nausea choked my body until I heard my name from the other side of the walls.
The doors to the ballroom open and all eyes are on me, gasps and murmurs could be heard bouncing from all over the room. Slowly, my eyes meet my Kyungsoo. He looks beyond handsome in his formal military uniform, a regal design with tassels on his shoulders and a sash with Seoul’s royal colors and insignia sewn across it. His badges and medals of honor adorn the space above his heart, chains swoop from his right shoulder to his lapel on the other. His hair is slicked back and out of his face with his crown sitting neatly on his head, his mouth slightly ajar. Kyungsoo’s gaze causes my cheeks to flush, he bows before me and kisses my hand. I bow to my fiancé, a new type of smile appearing on his face.
“You look so beautiful, Princess,” Kyungsoo whispers in my hair as he holds me for the waltz. The orchestra plays the soft, romantic melody we’ve rehearsed to and I nervously stiffen in his embrace. “Don’t be nervous. Remember, darling, follow me. On three, step back. One, two, three…”
We start to glide across the floor, our eyes set on each other. Uncertainty began to creep into my chest as Kyungsoo’s eyes beg me to trust him. I notice his demeanor is much different, it’s less guarded. It’s in his gaze, there’s a warmth that has been kindling over the last few days. Once my guard starts to drop, I make eye contact with Samira from across the ballroom. Of course, she’s standing right next to Boram. She smirks as she holds her phone in front of her, recording this moment. They whisper to each other and instantly my confidence fades as quickly as it came.
Is something going to happen now? What if he is in on this? What do I do?
My thoughts cause me to lose focus and stumble, the stress of ruining a beautiful, historical moment forcing adrenaline through my veins. Right on time to the music, Kyungsoo lifts me in his arms and smiles up at me. He gradually slides me down and my feet touch the ground, his arms securely around my waist until his hand grabs mine again. He twirls me and the entire ballroom erupts in applause.
“You need to put some trust in me. I told you that I would never let you fall, Princess.” He whispers in my ear.
I smile at Kyungsoo with gratitude and relief. I can feel his heart racing against my chest, dumbfounded at the thought that the Crown Prince is just as nervous as I am. The worst thing about this is that I am undoubtedly wonderstruck by him.
“I’m starting to believe you.” I reply lowly. Kyungsoo’s smile gets bigger, and he holds me closer, his words falling onto me like a refreshing rain.
“You belong in my arms, Princess.” Kyungsoo dreamily breathes. He twirls me at the tail end of the dance, bringing me back to his embrace. He leans forward and dips me down like he did in rehearsal, cradling me closely toward his chest. I close my eyes to ward off the dizzy feeling in my head, the same feeling he gives me every time he’s close like this. His lips linger centimeters above mine, any closer and they’d brush together. They land on my cheek; leaving a feathery, chaste kiss.
“This will have to do now, I fear if I kiss your lips now, I’ll never be able to stop.” Kyungsoo’s breath fans across my neck. I relax and can’t help but smile up at my fiancé. Kyungsoo bows politely to me, touching my face with his free hand as he stands up straight. I catch the eyes of Samira burning into me again. Kyungsoo and I bow to our guests and he requests for everyone to quiet down.
“Welcome, esteemed guests.” Kyungsoo bows and I follow suit. “We are so happy you came to our special day. We also would like to announce that the Royal Wedding will be taking place October 12th, next week. The Princess and I are in love and simply couldn’t wait any longer. Please forgive us if this causes any time constraints or hinderance in your schedules.”
That is the biggest lie I’ve ever heard come from Kyungsoo’s mouth, and it’s the first lie that I’m grateful for. Our guests cheer and applaud us on our “love”. The chatter begins along with the camera shutters. We smile and play it up for the cameras, and every person in this room believes it. Boram and Samira scowl in corners and whisper at each other to just get under my skin but I pay them no mind. The rest of the night is a blur of conversations, dancing and photo ops. Kyungsoo’s arm stays locked around me and he holds me close when we dance throughout the night. His eyes are soft and gentle when he looks down at me, his words are like silk as he whispers sweet nothings when we get chances to capture moments on our own. This feels so natural. So good.
Too good.
Midnight comes and the guests start to stumble out of the ballroom, bellies full of the finest wine and the best food imported from other kingdoms. Kyungsoo disappeared at some point and I figured I would see him later. On my way back to my chambers, I spot Lisette and Chanyeol in the garden. They’re casually talking and it looks like they’re getting along well, I make a mental note to ask her about this when we get back to the palace. I pass through the castle and see a sight that I partially expected.
“Kyungsoo! Stooop!” Her giggly voice is like nails on a chalkboard with her stupid giggles and whines. I stop behind a pillar and watch the scene play out in front of me.
Kyungsoo and Samira.
She giggles and slaps his shoulder, a small smile erupting on his face. Fire burned under my skin at the mere sight of a smile on his face because of her.
“Spend the night with me, babe. Just like we used to, remember? Come on, we can leave now!” This bitch.
“No, Samira. What we had is over. I’m with Alina now.” Kyungsoo sighs in monotone. It’s so rehearsed, but I don’t expect anything less from him. If I could shoot lasers out of my eyes, I’d aim at the both of them.
“Babe, come on. You and I both know you don’t want this. You would tell me over and over how much you hated that girl and didn’t want her! Why are you forcing this relationship so much?” Samira leans into Kyungsoo and he steps away.
“You’re a tease.” He laughs. My eyes fill with tears and I run, not caring if my footsteps echo. I don’t even care that Kyungsoo is calling out for me. I slam my door to my chambers. I made a mistake with letting this man in. I made a bigger mistake with telling him what happened to me. I curse myself for being so stupid in thinking that Kyungsoo meant his words. I refuse to cry over him, wipe my eyes and sit on my bed with my head in my hands. In my fit of anger, I didn’t check if the door was locked. As it swings open, I shuffle back, Kyungsoo standing there still in his uniform.
“We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I snap. Kyungsoo closes the door to my room and steps closer to the bed, taking my hand in his.
“Yes. We. Do.”
“What do you want to talk about, Kyungsoo? The fact that you were with your friend with benefits?” I scoff.
“It’s not what you think it was, Alina.” Kyungsoo pleads. How pathetic.
“She was all over you!” I exclaim.
“Samira was not all over me.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.
“Yes she was! I saw it! And you weren’t even mad about it.”
“You know, you’re cute when you’re jealous.” Kyungsoo smirks.
“Don’t do that. Don’t chastise me.” I warn.
Kyungsoo combs his hand through my hair and rests his hand on the nape of my neck. He doesn’t break eye contact and all I want is to be out from under his stupid spell. He smiles and caresses my face with his thumb. “I’m not chastising you. I told you before, Samira and I broke it off before you came here. She means nothing to me, darling. I just want you, is that so hard to believe?”
“Don’t give me that.” I hiss, forcing myself to break the invisible lock that his gaze has on me. Kyungsoo stands beside me and sighs lowly. “I saw you flirting with her! Laughing with her. You really have some nerve.”
“Some nerve? Alina… I don’t want Samira. I want you.”
“No, Kyungsoo. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think…”
“Damn it, Alina! Listen to me! Do you think that I wanted all of this to happen? I never thought you and I would be in this position!” Kyungsoo raises his voice. “It just happened. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re on my mind all of the time. I barely know you, all you did was walk into the Throne Room and have driven me mad ever since. I dream of kissing you. Now the best part of my day is holding you through the night. I need you. I crave you. I want to learn every little bit of you until there’s nothing left to learn. I want to love you for the rest of my life and that alone is scaring the hell out of me. You’re the first woman I’ve felt all of this for… All of these things all at once. I need you.”
“You really must think I’m stupid to believe I’m the first and only woman you felt all this before when obviously you felt things for Samira. She came to me before the ball saying she was going to be the one in your bed. That you had a plan, Kyungsoo.”
Kyungsoo’s deep, thunderous laugh leaves his mouth. He wasn’t amused, he was irritated. Our gazes lock and the intensity of his eyes knocks me down a few pegs. “A plan? What plan? Darling… My only plan was to announce our wedding. We’re getting married. You and I. She was never part of my plans, and she will neverbe the woman in my bed. The only woman that will ever have the spot next to me is you. Haven’t I been proving that the last 48 hours?”
“You know that doesn’t mean anything. 48 hours? Are you serious?” I gaze back up at the moon and of course, Kyungsoo demands my attention again. “I don’t believe you.”
“Let’s settle something right now, Alina. Princess Samira will not be on my mind if you’re the one lying beside me. You must not understand the depths of my want for you if you think Samira can distract me from you. My mind is constantly on your lips that are so pouty when you don’t get what you want yet control me when they’re on mine. Your beautifully crafted body lying in my arms every single night is enough for me to forget about that woman and any other woman before you. Your face is the last thing I see before I sleep and my first thought in the morning. Your existence consumes me, darling.” Kyungsoo’s shaky, throaty tone catches me off guard just as much as his sentiments do. His charming grin blooms on his face as if he knows the thoughts that appeared in my head, and the sensations flooding and confusing my body.
I swallow my words under curious eyes and crimson cheeks. Kyungsoo so effortlessly bathes in the moonlight, his words hang in the air with each step he takes to close the gap between us. Once his arms enclose me in his orbit, I know I’m done for. “My God, Alina. How do you so effortlessly give the moon its glow? The stars in the sky are envious of the ones that flicker in your eyes… No woman could ever compare to you in my eyes. You’re breathtaking.”
Kyungsoo’s hands guide themselves to the back of my neck, thumbs on my cheeks. He brings his thick, plump lips to mine. This kiss was different than the one we shared before. There was no more curiosity, it was passionate. It was fiery. It was everything I needed.
“You’re stunning.” I start falling deeper into him.
“You’re gorgeous.” I’m drowning in him.
“You’re divine.” There’s no going back.
Kyungsoo indulges in my lips over and over, calling me sweet names in between each breath-stealing kiss. He kissed me so much that I lost count of each time he whispered how beautiful I was under his breath. He picks me up in his arms and sets me on the dresser, standing in between my legs. He leans into me and rest his hands on my thighs. I fall for the desire to fulfill every single need Kyungsoo has. My arms wrap around his neck, our breath heavy as his hands travel up my legs and settle on my waist. We part, I press my forehead against his with shallow breaths.
“Darling, any woman could try to get my attention, but I’m completely and utterly focused on you. My mind has been made up. No one can change that, Alina.” He lowly assures me.
“Kyungsoo…”
The strap of my nightgown falls off my shoulder. Kyungsoo eyes it and slides his finger underneath the thin strap, kissing my exposed skin before returning the strap back where it was. “Alina… Let me in, please.”
“One condition.” I say lowly. He squeezes me tighter in his arms. “Show me who you really are underneath the façade you’ve given. If I let you in, you have to let me in, too. We’re going to be married really soon and to give this a fair shot, we have to trust each other.”
“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” He says on my lips with pleading eyes. I chase his lips, needing to fill a piece of me that I didn’t know was empty until he came along.
“Please don’t ever see Samira ever again.” I plead in his mouth.
“I don’t need to see her. I have you, darling.” Kyungsoo replies between mouthy kisses. “I only need you.”
The coolness of the wall startles my skin as Kyungsoo pushes me on it, slowly kissing along my collarbone. I crumble with how he looks up at me with begging, desperate eyes. I put my hands on either side of his face and bring him back to my lips. I’m taking control of what I want, and my desire is filled with him. His kisses soothe open wounds in me. His touch mends the broken parts that others left behind. He’s slowly healing me and my heart is allowing it. We’re lost together in a whirlwind of feelings we didn’t expect to have for each other and it’s a thrill I’ll gladly chase. We break apart and Kyungsoo holds my chin with his fingers.
“Is this what falling in love feels like?” I gasp.
“I hope so, because I’ve been waiting to catch you, Princess.”
“I thought we were leaving titles out of our private conversations.” I smirk, wrapping my arms around his strong shoulders.
“We are, but you’re my princess. My darling. Mine.” Kyungsoo breathes, leaving soft kisses on my cheeks.
“And you…” I reply between kisses, “are mine.”
#kyungsoo fanfic#exo fanfic#exo fanfiction#kyungsoo x reader#doh kyungsoo#exo#kyungsoo#exo do kyungsoo#exo k#d.o. kyungsoo#exo d.o.#Doh kyungsoo#do kyungsoo#kyungsoo exo#kyungsoo x you#kyungsoo as a prince#crown prince kyungsoo#modern royalty au#modern AU#k pop fanfic#exo fanfic rec#the kingdom of us fanfic#EXO fanfiction#K pop fanfiction#Kyungsoo do#romance#Arranged marriage#enemies to lovers#dividers by saradika graphics
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Lucas/Jo Wedding Details (with some edits by me).
Source for questions
How long were they together before they got engaged?
4 years. They started dating sometime in their senior year of high school, and got engaged while Lucas was in his final year of college.
Who proposed and how?
(screenshots from @itlivesproject)
Going by the ILW timeline, Lucas. He proposes after the memorial when they're back at their shared home.
With Jo spending all these years helping Noah, and Lucas studying at college, she'd been a little more unsure of how he felt about their relationship and how close they actually were. But once she heard "these four years we've been together? We've had our ups and downs, but ultimately, we're here. You and I", that was how she knew he felt confident about their relationship, and it made her feel confident too.
(more screenshots from @itlivesproject, for the ring description)
I do think Jo is also the type to propose, though she probably wouldn't have done so as soon as Lucas did, for the aforementioned reason of her being more unsure.
How long was the engagement?
One year, they waited until Lucas had graduated from college and then they married in early-mid July. It was kind of a tough call, because Jo really wanted a summer wedding, but Lucas wanted to take Jo's last name and kinda preferred for "Lucas Hunter" to show up on his diploma. But they managed to work things out.
Where was the Wedding?
The ceremony takes place in an area next to a small river/lake just outside of Westchester, and the reception takes place in the ballroom of a nearby hotel.
Colors/Theme?
(Backgrounds from the Choices game assets)
Lucas being Lucas, he also adores rustic old-fashioned aesthetics, and Jo shares his enjoyment of that, so that tends to be a bit of a recurring theme.
Big Wedding or Small?
They only invite their closest friends and family.
Who did most of the planning?
Mostly Lucas because he's the organized planner type, but both of them did have equal say in it.
Tell me about the cake!
(Images used/edited from the Choices game assets)
A layered duo-flavor cake, chocolate and pink champagne.
What about the flowers?
(Images from the Choices game assets)
Mostly light-colored roses.
(Images from the Choices game assets)
Jo's bouquet. The two plan to do a little twist to the bouquet toss.
Their attire?
Lucas wears a nice, form-fitting suit. He isn't quite as interested in wearing dresses or more skin-showing clothing as Aiden is, and tends to prefer very form-fitting clothing. And he knows how much Jo loves it too. Seriously, she would not, does not, and will never shut the fuck up about how well his hoco suit hugged his waist and hips. So he goes with a fairly form-fitting old-fashioned tux. And since they're reversing the garter toss tradition, he chooses to wear one over the suit.
Jo was initially torn between suit or dress. She tends to prefer pant suits, but she also sometimes likes a big long gown to hide, er, certain things under it. In the end, she chooses to go with a combination: a wedding gown with a suit jacket over it.
Wedding Party?
Jo's bridal party consists of:
Ava, who is her maid of honor
Lily
Stacy
Harper Addison (my ILB demigirl MC)
Imogen
Danni
Amalia
Jocelyn
Lucas's groom party consists of
Andy, who is his best man
Dan
Noah
Tom
Parker
Abel
Cedric (my ILW m!MC)
Connor
Lincoln
Fun fact, Ava is the maid of honor for Jo because I've always had this headcanon that of the ILITW group, Ava and Jo had been extra close friends as kids. Almost as much as Jo and Jane were.
Which traditions were important to them? Which ones did they skip?
Lucas likes rustic old-fashioned aesthetics a lot, so they do use some aspects from that a bit. But most traditions might be reversed or have a little twist on them.
The two meet at the start of the aisle and then walk down together.
Jo carries the bouquet, but she hands it over to Lucas for him to do the bouquet toss.
Meanwhile, the garter toss gets a full role-reversal with Lucas being the one to wear it and Jo being the one to toss it.
Their first dance starts with a role-reversed ballroom waltz, then morphs into an upbeat Roaring 20's style dance that is mostly gender neutral.
After the ceremony, the reception went as follows:
First, is the first dance.
Bouquet and garter tosses are next. Tom caught the bouquet and Harper Addison caught the garter.
Dinner and cake next. Cue Jo playfully smushing cake into his face to get icing all over his mouth.
Toasts. IDK about the rest of the characters, but Ava has been preparing the ultimate roast for them ever since she heard of Lucas's plans to propose.
Last, is the actual party.
What about something that was uniquely ‘them’?
Probably the way they utilize a lot of "old fashioned" aesthetics, with a lot of role-reversed/GNC elements.
What’s their favorite memory of the day?
All of them. They can't decide on one. Though for Jo it'd probably have to be their wedding night when they, ahem, "consummate" their marriage.
Where did they go for their honeymoon?
(Backgrounds from the Choices game assets)
After spending the wedding night together at the hotel, the two would spend a two-week honeymoon in Vegas.
#choices stories you play#choices#choices game#choices stories we play#choices stories we play fandom#ilitw lucas#jo x lucas#lucas x jo#lucas thomas#choices it lives in the woods#it lives anthology#it lives series#it lives in the woods#ilitw mc#choices ilitw#ilitw#jo hunter (ilitw mc)#mc x lucas#lucas x mc#cadybear's headcanons#ilitw headcanons#cadybear's ilitw headcanons#ilitw f!mc#cadybear's edits#my edits#my edit#ilitw edits
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Hello! I recently saw your art of Ghali, Drephl and Rleiph, and decided to finally try out making wiki pages! I plan on making all three of them before adding them, but I have a few questions on about them. (Im pretty sure that you wrote the fic, but please correct me if I’m wrong)
first off, the fic is AMAZING, I cried multiple times while reading it, and everything goes together so perfectly there’s too much to talk about so I’ll stop here before it gets too long.
1) On Ghali, I wanted to double check that she took the last name Shims, because at some point it refers to the family as “the shims”
2) on Frihl, does he keep the last name Shims, or take his husband’s name?
3) can I say that Rleiph has pale speckles in her physical description?
4) could you give me more insight on Ghali’s , Drephl’s and Rleiph’s personalities? I personally struggle with describing those myself.
5) are there names for Drephl and Frihl’s parents, as I would like for them to be in the relationships category.
6) same for Rleiph’s girlfriend. Also, does she have a physical appearance? I’d love to draw the two of them together.
7) WEREWOLF CENTAUR. Amazing idea. What does the kid look like? I know that they’re described as a foal, but WHAT IS THEY JUST HAD A WOLF HALF INSTEAD OF A HORSE HALF, OR A WOLF HALF DURING FULL MOONS. I would love to know things like their skin tones and hair color too. (And coat) also thank you for all these centaurs, there isn’t even a catagory on the wiki for them yet.
8) what kind of clothes does everyone wear?
9) I know that Drephl and Ghali probably just went to a courtroom and signed some papers, but I really want to draw Drephl standing on a stool with her under an arch, where they just hug. This is also so I can mess around with possible wedding traditional clothing during that time period.
10) what is the name of Drephl and Ghali’s grandchild? The werewolf one?
Thank you for this amazing fic! Loved the art you made, and this will be very embarrassing if you didn’t write the fic!

Putting this under read more;;
Ok first of all. omg??? that's so cool what the hell!!! i'm so happy you liked my fic so much???
1) Yeah, she becomes a Shims
2) I think he takes his husband's name (which i don't have yet)
3) I forgot to give her some white in her coat in the art lol, but i decided to work that in; she's born with just a brown coat, but some white speckles start appearing as she grows older :3
4) They honestly don't have much, yet; the style i wrote in makes it really hard to add Character and Personality other than just stated facts like "she likes hiking" and "she's a computer programmer", sorry
5) Not yet, sorry
6)
7/10) I want to give them at least 2-3 kids so i can actually make them all different, though i imagine they probably have 5-8 year age differences cus raising just one is chaotic and hard enough lol. someone made really good art of their kid!!! (i've come up w the names Phil, Lei, and Majil so far) (j pronounced like (consonant) y)
8) currently i've just been drawing them in some clothes from our time cus i haven't had the motivation&energy necessary to figure out the Fashion of their time, but i can say that the blanket??? dress?? things the centaurs wear is like. actual clothing they wear in their time period&place
9) I love that so much. also, it honestly makes a lot of sense for them to hold an actual celebration; your wedding is basically the only time in your life where you have an excuse to gather every single person you're close to in one place for a big party (aside from your funeral but uh. yeah.) their marriage was meant as the point where they no longer cared what anyone else thought bc they were so secure in their meaning to each other, so i love the idea of them going all out and then just hugging.
also behold! look what i found from way back when i was writing the fic :)
#sezijasks#this is. whattttttt i didnt know ppl cared abt my fic ???#i was like "oo ive got a new tablet maybe ill finally draw the Fam''#and then out of the floorboards oozed fanart and asks and reblogs of excitement and i was like !?!?!?!??!#its made me write some additional scenes to flesh out their personalities#idk if i'll release them yet they're just lil blurps but who knows#asks#i named zir 'nail' and it took me like 10 minutes to realize thats an actual english word lmao. its pronounced more.. finnish-like#put 'najiil' in finnish google translate and make it sound it out and uve got it#(the 'j' is less pronounced but if its not there it does it like english so)
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Hilda's herborium: Rosemary
Scientific name: Salvia rosmarinus
Native Habitat: Mediterranean
Magical qualities:
-protection
-banishing
-remembrance
-purifying
-death magick
-love
Description:
Rosemary is described as a woody, perennial herb that can become a bushy shrub. The leaves are evergreen and needlelike in shape, and they produce the essential oil that gives rosemary its characteristic scent. They are dark green on the upper side, and the underside has a dense covering of short, white, woolly hairs. Some varieties of rosemary grow in an upright form, and stalks can reach five feet tall. Other varieties have a trailing form with the branches curving downward into a cascade effect. The small flowers of rosemary can be blue, violet, purple, pink, or white, depending on the variety. They are fragrant and attract bees, butterflies, and some birds, which the plant depends on for pollination.
Folklore:
Rosemary is one of the most important Old World magickal herbs. It was associated with Aphrodite/Venus (Rosemary's name means “dew of the sea” in Latin). Later, it became linked to the Virgin Mary, who is said to have given the plant its blue blossoms when she rested her blue mantle on a bush.
Rosemary has a long history. It is native to the Mediterranean region and written evidence of it first appeared on stone tablets in Mesopotamia from around 5000BC. The Ancient Egyptians used rosemary in their burial rituals, maybe due to its antifungal and antibacterial properties which would have helped in the mummifying process. Sprigs of it have been found in tombs from as early as 3000BC.
During the Middle Ages (5th to the 15th centuries) it was used to ward off negative energies and evil. It was placed under pillows to ward off nightmares and was burned in houses to keep away the plague. The idea that rosemary provided protection and purification still continues today and it is often used to purify sacred places.
It used to be very common for a couple getting married to incorporate rosemary into their wedding. The bride would wear a headdress which would feature rosemary and the groom and guests would also wear a sprig attached to their clothing. It’s thought that this tradition was started because rosemary could improve your memory and recall. Wearing a remembrance herb meant that it was more likely that the couple would remember their sacred vows to each other. Guests would wear rosemary so that they could better remember the event. Rosemary would be planted at the door of the newlyweds’ home, the idea being that if the plant took root and flourished, the marriage would too. The traditional use of it at weddings meant that it soon became known as a love herb and was included in many love spells and charms.
Although Rosemary is generally now counted as a Masculine/Solar herb, the feminine association was stronger once upon a time. An old saying has it, “Where Rosemary grows, the woman rules.” It was said that Rosemary would only flourish in a garden where the lady of the house wore the pants. Because of this saying, men often forbid rosemary in their home. (Lol)
Christians once believed that the Rosemary plant echoed the life of Christ, growing for 33 years to the height of a man, then perishing. Rosemary also banished nightmares: according to a letter sent by Jeanne of Valois (1294 – 1342) to her daughter Queen Phillippa (wife of our Edward III), laying a sprig of Rosemary under the head of a sleeping man “doth away evell sprirites and suffereth not the dreeme fowl dremes ne to be afearde.”
Quotes about Rosemary:
"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember." -William Shakespeare
"I plant rosemary all over the garden, so pleasant is it to know that at every few steps one may draw the kindly branchlets through one's hand, and have the enjoyment of their incomparable incense; and I grow it against walls, so that the sun may draw out its inexhaustible sweetness to greet me as I pass." -Gertrude Jekyll
"I try to do nothing. I drink rosemary when I have a lot of work to do. People take coffee, they take speed, whatever. I take rosemary." -Agnes Varda
"As for rosemary, I let it run all over my garden walls, not only because my bees love it but because it is the herb sacred to remembrance and to friendship, whence a sprig of it hath a dumb language." -Sir Thomas More
Miss Ainslie gathered a bit of rosemary, crushing it between her white fingers. "See," she said, "some of us are like that it takes a blow to find the sweetness in our souls." -Myrtle Reed
#hilda's herborium#rosemary#paganblr#paganism#nature#witchcraft#witchblr#Green witch#herbs#herb magic#folklore
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I'm doing a big roleplaying game week in my Discord Server! I hardly ever cross over anything professional here, but figured some of my mutuals might want to join in a game or two! ALL TIMES ARE PACIFIC TIME.
With the help of some wonderful Game Master friends of mine, I'm hosting 9 games for you to join in! These games are a great opportunity to try a new system OR try tabletop roleplaying for the very first time!
Most games are online only. The game on August 25th is in person in Graham, WA.
SPACE IS LIMITED! Sign-up now to guarantee your spot! Sign-up is here: https://summer.geekgirlre.com Sign-up form also includes more details about the games, including the full descriptions.
Special thanks to Chris de Leon with Hometown Lenders for sponsoring the dice that will be given away during each game!
⭐OUR MARTYRED SAINT
📚Warhammer 40K Wrath & Glory
📅Sat Aug 19 🕕6pm-11pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Edward B.
🔢3-6 Players
⭐PELLENICKY GLADE
📚Root: The Roleplaying Game
📅Sun Aug 20 🕛12pm-4pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Lindsey (That's me!)
🔢3-6 Players
⭐UNLIKELY TRANSFORMATIONS
📚Kids on Brooms
📅Sun Aug 20 🕔5pm-9:30pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Megan W.
🔢3-6 Players
⭐DEADLANDS: DEAD ANOTHER DAY
📚Savage Worlds
📅Mon Aug 21 🕠5:30pm-10pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Nick R.
🔢3-6 Players
⭐SUNDERED WAVES
📚Pathfinder Second Edition
📅Tue Aug 22 🕠5:30pm-10pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Lindsey (That's me!)
🔢4 Players 🚨THIS GAME IS FULL!
⭐THOSE SUMMER NIGHTS
📚Monsterhearts Second Edition
📅Wed Aug 23 🕠5:30pm-10pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Lindsey (That's me!)
🔢3-8 Players
⭐THIS ONE TIME AT BAND CAMP
📚Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition
📅Thu Aug 24 🕠5:30pm-10pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Joe D.
🔢3-6 Players
⭐FORGOTTEN TRADITIONS
📚Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition
📅Fri Aug 25 🕠5:30pm-9:30pm
📍In-Person in Graham, WA 👤 GM: Rick G.
🔢4-8 Players
⭐BLOODY MARY
📚Cyberpunk RED
📅Sat Aug 26 🕛12pm-6pm
💻Online 👤 GM: Kenn C.
🔢3-5 Players
#roleplaying game#ttrpg#root#wh40k#warhammer 40k#wrath and glory#lfg#dnd#dungeons and dragons#dnd5e#monsterhearts#bard#cyberpunk#cyberpunk red#cyberpunk 2077#pathfinder#pf2e#adventurer's league#deadlands#savage worlds#kids on brooms#kids on bikes#roll20#foundry#tabletop gaming#tabletop#root rpg
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