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#i love him your honor he deserved better

patheticblorbloscholar · 1 year

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Spider has joined my pile of sad boi blorblos

#avatar: way of water #I love him your honor #he deserves better #spider #spider socorro

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dutchessofcaladan · 5 months

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I got bored so I decided to rewatch The Best Offer and, knowing the ending, now get so mad whenever I hear Claire's voice, see Robert, or hear any mention of the Vauconson Automaton.

This poor man. He didn't deserve any of that. And you could tell that his feelings for Claire weren't a "forgery", unlike hers for him.

#geoffrey rush #virgil oldman #the best offer #i love him your honor #he deserved better

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iamfuckincrazybutiamfree · 2 years

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okay listen, legacies fandom

I am a hizze shipper but I REFUSE TO HEAR YALL TRASH TALK LANDON

HE HAS DONE NOTHING WRONG AND HAS GONE THROUGH TOO MUCH

ISTG I HATE THE LEGACIES FANDOM, LIKE ALL HE SAID THAT WAS HE WAS GLAD HE DIDN’T SEE HOPE IN HER DARK PHASE CAUSE LETS BE HONEST SHE DID KILL LIZZIE AND TRIED TO KILL THE REST OF SUPER SQUAD

AND DESPITE BEING A MEMBER OF THE SUPER SQUAD THERE IS NO WAY LANDON COULD DEFEND HIMSELF IN FRONT OF HOPE AND EVEN IF HE COULD HE WOULDN’T CAUSE HE LOVES HER

AND YALL NEED TO STOP COMPARING LIZZIE AND LANDON

THEY ARE FUCKING FRIENDS AND ONE OF MY FAVOURITE DYNAMICS ALSO THEY HAVE BOTH BEEN THROUGH SM

I LOVE THEM BOTH AND I REFUSE TO HEAR ANY HATE

#legacies #i love them your honor #i can't believe some of yall #legacies s4 #landon kirby #lizzie saltzman #handon #hizzie #hope mikealson #landon kirby deserves better #just imagine looking at him and being like oh yea hes worse than jOsie #like that girls whole personality was her co dependency and dark josie #and yall are really trying to hate on him #if you don't like handon thats fine #but don't you dare hate on landon cause he has been through just as much as them #the only difference is that he stayed kind and compassionate

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offtherailswithwhit · 7 months

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He really didn’t need to die like that. Also it created canonical inconsistencies and I will rag on this to the day I die.

#your honor i love him #he deserves better #Ephraim Newhouse #dc comics #court of owls #dc talon #fite me #I’m in the mood for discourse #maybe

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clownfire · 2 years

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Just had an absolutely god-tier hc for what Chip’s magic would look like. (I know the next riptide ep hasn’t even dropped yet, but not like that’s stopped me before)

So I made this post about Chip wanting to learn healing magic back in ep __, and I’ve thought about it more since then

When Chip uses his magic to heal, the wound doesn’t just disappear. It scars, and the new tissues formed have a golden-shine to them like kintsugi (an art and method of pottery repair that pieces together shards by ‘gluing’ them together with gold).

#jrwi riptide #jrwi chip #jrwi hc #it would fit him really well I think #i love when character design reflects a character's arc or the themes they represent #chibo has such low self-esteem and he's been through so much #but he's come out of it as a caring and overall better person #my boy deserves nice things your honor

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boliv-jenta · 2 years

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@misspearly1 Your Joel got me thinking of my video game boyfriend.

Smut under the cut.

"Arthur Morgan!" You chastised him.

Easy Girl

The steady beat of hooves on the well worn ground was almost enough to lull you to sleep. The night air was warm and comforting against your skin. The sun was low in the sky. It's fading yellow blending into pinks and purples before mixing with the incoming night sky. The steady rocking would have definitely pushed you into unconsciousness, if it wasn't for one thing. The urgent press of Arthur's hardened length against your ass.

"Can you blame me, Darlin'? This is the longest time I've been alone with you in days. Nevermind with you pressed up against me."

"Well, I do apologise Mr Morgan." You lent back against him fluttering your eyelashes to compliment your honey sweet tone.

"Don't sass me woman. I'll take you up against the nearest tree and I won't give a flying fuck who sees you being a whore for me." He bit at your earlobe.

"Promises, promises." A yelp left you as he shifted you forward. The reins he held, wrapped around your wrists, holding you forward, draped over the horse's broad neck.

"You have to test me, don't you?" A smile crossed your lips as he lifted your dress up. The warm air still causing a chill as it licked at your exposed flesh. The clank of his belt buckle had you wet with anticipation.

"Come on, girl. Just a little further." He urged the chestnut mare before pressing the thick head of his cock against your enterance. Slowly he edge inside, your warm heat welcomed him.

"Fuck, Sweetheart. Out in the open, where anyone could see, yet you're still so invitin'."

"Let them see. I want them to see who this cunt belongs to."

"Such a mouth on you. I might just come in it, after your pussy's done warming my cock."

The steady beat of hooves vibrated up to where you were joined. The stretch of him tantalising but nowhere near enough. As a man approached from the opposite direction you had to stifle a moan as Arthur's cock twitched inside you. The men exchanged greetings as you pressed your face into the mare's well groomed mane.

Arthur's large hands gripped your waist pulling you back on his dick. "Dirty little girl. I felt how excited you got when you heard someone getting close."

Once the trees opened up, Arthur tugged the reins lightly, leading the horse to an open patch of land by a narrow creek. The ground was a bit more verdant. Luckily for you, as Arthur dragged you off the horse and down onto your hands and knees. His large frame was at your back pushing you down. His hand threaded into your hair, holding you in place. He filled you in one stroke. The punch of him deep inside you, forced a scream from you. His horse whinnied behind you.

"Easy girl." He soothed while ramming his cock into you.

"Keep quiet now, woman. I don't want my horse spooked."

Pulling his hand from your hair, you shoved his fingers in your mouth, muffling your cries.

"Jesus! I don't know what's tighter, the suck of your mouth or the the suck of your cunt." His dirty words made you moan around his fingers.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours picked up as he pounded you into the ground. Two orgasms ripped through you in quick succession.

"My perfect little whore. Soaking my cock so well. Taking my cock so well. Gonna take my seed so well too. Take it. Take it." He chanted as he filled you. A groan choke off as he dropped down on top of you, pinning you in place. His length twitched and soften inside you.

"I missed you, Sweetheart." He breathed in your ear.

"I missed you too, Mr Morgan."

#arthur morgan #he deserved better #i love him your honor

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i-am-too-tired-for-this-shit · 2 years

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Okay this is so going to be weird as fuck but hear me out

Kim reminds me of my aunt's late dalmatian. *I told you it was gonna be weird as fuck, but bear with me*

So, my aunt's dalmatian had a problem with pigeons. Every time he saw one in the perimeter of (or flying above) the courtyard, he will haunt them down, kill them and then lay them on my aunt's doorstep for her to see. So it was kind of a problem, because she panicked at first, thinking it was some sort of avian influenza that only affected pigeons at first, but will slowly spread out to other species as well. And given that this whole ordeal went on for a couple of months, the entire freaking street started panicking and... I think you can guess what followed for the poor chicken of each one of the aforementioned neighbours. That was until my aunt discovered who the real "influenza" was and she had to apologise to everyone, but anyway, that is not the point of the story.

The thing is that it's been years since my aunt's dalmatian passed away (I was terrified of him tbh, and my fear of dogs played a huge factor in that) and Kim's fight scene at Yok's bar and his smirk when he heard Chay's scream after he discovered the bodies reminded me of this story. So I thought I should share it here, you know... just to ~difuse the tension~ (and probably stop myself from being sad over their ending... I was not surprised, but I really hoped everything will be alright by the end of the series)

Yeah... that was it. Thank you for reading this far into this shitpost and I am sorry if this didn't make any sense at all, I have no idea what I was even trying to achieve lmao

#kimchay #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche ep 14 #i am literally so freaking sorry this was so random #but kim really do be like that dalmatian sometimes #in the way that he did in fact leave the bodies discarded for chay to see #and also in the way that he really scares me sometimes #nevertheless i love him #season 2 better do all of them justice #because i cannot anymore #also i am extremely sorry for whatever is gonna happen to kinn and porsche #cause korn is a motherfucker #lying and sneaky bastard #i can honestly write an entire thesis on why i think he is sus and does not deserve shit whatsoever #and please let vegaspete be happy #macau too #they've earned this shit #especially after having kun as your father #they deserve to be happy your honor is all i'm saying #also please bring big back #i'm literally begging at this point #please tell me kim had taken him somewhere to heal #because he doesn't really trust korn or chan so he took big to a private hospital or some shit #because he obviously trusts big #otherwise he wouldn't have played Sherlock Holmes with him #speaking of Chan #he is also suspicious #and also very much alive #like man's been shot for more than 5 times than proceeds to crawl on the pavement call kinn and light himself a cigarette #like my man have you ever heard of being mortally injured

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thecursedanon · 21 days

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hiii, i'm that anon who requested lee!yuji. i don't mind if he's not wrecked as revenge in part 2!

i'm excited for the part-2 and the yuji cheer up tickle fic! <3

tysmmm for writing!

Hi again Nonnie!!

Thank you so much! I'm glad to hear you're excited <3

Sorry for the delay, I've been doing most of my writing at work during down time and it got super busy right before the holiday with vacations and junk... It's calmed down now though so I'm getting back to work on them ^^

I also got sidetracked by another non tword original work/project I'm working on at the same time, I have to take the inspiration when it hits bc my muse is a fickle gremlin... Lol.

Here, have a fluffy/comfort sneak peak of the Yuji fic for your troubles! <3

---

Nanami, of course, saw this. He let out a small chuckle as he idly picked up one of Itadori’s blankets from the floor, folding it as he spoke. “Yuji, if something is bothering you… you know you can talk to me, right?” He asked, glancing up at the teen as he neatly set it down on the bed. “Even if you think it’s something minor…”

Yuji bit his lip and looked back out the window. “Yeah… I know that…It’s just my thoughts are so scrambled right now… I don’t even know how to start talking about what’s bothering me...”

Nanami frowned, picking up another blanket and approaching the pinkette with it. He carefully draped it around him and sat down next to him. “I understand…”

A memory flickered to the forefront of his mind, he recalled saying something similar to his best friend when he was Yuji’s age. Haibara had responded by looking for the fluffiest, most comforting blanket he could find in their dorm room and damn near smothered Kento with it as he wrapped him up in it and hugged him tightly.

It was times like this that he wished Yu had still been alive, he’d be much better at this sort of thing than he was… “I’m sorry.” Kento said softly, his hands firmly grasping his students shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Yuji looked at the window, the rain and wind had kicked up even more outside. “Can I… have a hug?”

Nanami nodded, not hesitating to engulf him in a big protective hug at his request. “Of course you can.”

Yuji smiled, the warmth from the blanket and the warmth radiating from the tight hug was soothing to him. He wrapped his arms around Nanami in response, resting his head on his shoulder.

#thecursedanon askbox #Nanami and Yuji are adorable and I love them your honor #Nanami picking up some of the blankets and folding them while he spoke to Yuji is the most parent thing I could think of for him to do lmao #Yuji my sweet summer child... he so sad :(#Nanamin deserved better goddammit :')

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wigglanteshit · 8 months

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can someone please write a pilot steve harrington au because it’s not leaving my mind

#your honor i love him #steve harrington #steve deserves better #give steve a plane and a cute little hat #he’s just a baby

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callmemickey · 8 months

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Simon Riley fucks intensely and passionately. He doesn’t grab your hair, or spit on your face, or cause you physical pain - my man’s has openly admitted to dealing with violent thoughts/dreams against women and wanting to be better. He might get rough if he’s stressed or angry, but he won’t be, like, throat fucking you for example. Sorry. I just can’t see it. He can be fast, but I don’t think he’s gonna be hardcore or degrading. I think if he gets the mask on, he miiiight be a little more… forthcoming.

Simon Riley finds sex to be the highest level of trust, love, and vulnerability. Don’t expect him to be a quick or easy lay. If he wants you intimately, this is the biggest honor you would ever receive from him. Maybe before he was tortured he would’ve been quicker to engage, but the Simon we know now? Yeah, you gotta work.

Simon Riley… ohhhhh he’s always asking you: “is that alright, love?” “that feel good?” “ahhhh, yeah, you’re a good girl, aren’tcha?” If you’re not feeling it, he’s not feeling it. he wants to make sure you’re into it 100%. the moment you grunt, wince, or groan in pain, he’s stopping to check up on his lovie. he just radiates Soft Dom energy to me (and I want him so bad). Simon loves to see you get all flustered, too. When you beg for him (and you’re a good girl) he will give you anything and everything you want.

Simon Riley being a Soft Dom… mmm, delicious. I love to imagine him praising and worshipping: “ahh fuck, i’ve missed my girl’s pussy” “so proud of you, taking my cock so well” “you want to be a good girl for me, don’tcha?” “you’re so beautiful when you struggle to fit me” if you’re engaged with him romantically, you’re his everything - man’s invested his entire soul and well-being into you. With that being said, throw him some praise, too! He’ll melt and become putty in your hands; he’ll do anything for you. Tell him how you were made for his cock, that nobody else makes you feel like he does, how you’re sooo good - but only for him. He’s definitely possessive of you - not in a red flag kind of way, but when you talk about how you’re his and only his… whew.

Simon Riley wants to see your face when you two are having sex. Anything missionary, missionary adjacent, cowgirl, it doesn’t matter, just let this man look at you! He doesn’t crave it, he needs it. Eye contact is so intimate, and if you’re shy and can’t maintain it? Ohhh, he’s gonna have fun. “eyes here, love” “don’t cover your face/close your eyes - i want to watch you cum” “you were just begging for my cock, don’t get all shy now” “be a good girl and look at me” he’s either coming inside or on your tummy/chest. preferably? inside.

Simon Riley prefers having a good session as opposed to a quickie. He likes doing things in the privacy of your shared home (because then you can be loud and cry his name as you cum on his cock for the 4th time 🤭). Sometimes, he’ll be desperate though, and this is when he gets a lil impatient. Like this one time, he went with you to your family’s Christmas party while being on leave for only a week, and he needed you. That man took you in the bathroom and railed you so hard you couldn’t leave for 15 minutes until you could stand without shaking (also not me writing this rn).

Simon Riley, upon specific request, will wear the mask in bed. Honestly, don’t expect this for a while, however. The mask serves as his identity - his separation from you. This will take a lot of courage on his behalf as you’re wanting to bring in something containing his countless sins and crimes into such an intimate situation. Like I said!!! It takes a while to get him this comfortable. Try to rush the process and you’re missing out on some pretty intense and animalistic fucking. It’s a rare time you can expect a more vicious kind of dirty talk from him: “fuckin’ hell, you like being a dirty little slut, huh?” “that pretty little face of yours deserves to be fucked” “your pussy was made for me” “shut up and keep taking it like a good girl should” “ahh, begging for my cock like the needy little slut you are”

Simon Riley loves aftercare, and he makes sure you feel loved during that time. Sweet Angel, we don’t deserve him. Massages, baths, checking on you emotionally and mentally, he’ll make you dinner, put on your favorite movie, and relax with you while he showers you with unconditional love and adoration. He’s obsessed with you. Get over it.

#simon riley x you #Simon Riley #cod mw2 #Simon ghost Riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #ghost x you #headcanon #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons

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writing-in-glitter-pen · 4 months

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘

Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.

Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!

Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.

He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.

He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.

That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.

He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.

So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.

"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.

He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.

He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.

Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.

Your name.

Oh, how he remembered you.

You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...

But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.

You were a little brat was what you were.

Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.

Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".

They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.

He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.

You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.

His little siblings were much cuter.

And he did not hesitate to say that.

"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.

"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."

This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.

Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.

You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.

How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?

Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!

Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.

All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."

Never before had he felt so cheated.

That begun his feud with a two year old.

Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.

It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.

"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.

He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.

That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife

If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.

Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.

But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.

In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.

So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.

"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."

The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.

"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.

In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.

Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.

It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.

He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.

But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.

His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.

Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.

What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?

With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.

His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.

The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.

But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.

This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.

And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.

Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.

He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.

"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."

Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.

"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."

To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.

Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.

You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.

He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.

So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.

"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."

He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.

"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.

"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."

He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.

"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."

He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.

"And loving you as you love me."

Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.

Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."

His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.

"And you will forever be mine."

His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.

Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.

Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.

As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.

But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.

You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.

He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.

The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.

All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.

"I do.", you said.

He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.

"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.

After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.

Fervently, passionately kissed you.

It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.

But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.

After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.

"Could we take a walk in the garden?"

While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.

The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.

"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.

He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.

And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.

"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.

"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.

"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."

To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.

The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".

His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.

"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."

Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.

But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."

He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.

So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.

"Let's warm you up, huh?"

Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.

So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.

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