howlingplayground | Arranged Marriage

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Arranged Marriage

It's a trope near and dear to our hearts. Arranged marriage.

Maybe it's for the family. Maybe it's for a friend. Maybe you know the person and have been expected to marry them for years. Maybe it's the wedding day and you have no clue who it is you'll be tied to for your natural life. Maybe you've been married a while, and you're just now starting your life, away from the expectations of others. Or maybe, the "others" are watching, waiting, making sure this marriage sticks.

Prompts for those who need them:

Reasons:

1. Station → You come from a royal, noble, or otherwise distinguished family who has chosen a suitable spouse for you.
2. Feud → You are being married to put an end to the bitter enmity between your two families.
3. Economics → Your economic state and/or your station will improve through the union, though one of you may be marrying down.
4. Empire → You and your spouse are merging your businesses and/or property to create something more influential or profitable.
6. Tribute → You have been offered as a gift or appeasement, alternately you're the spoils of war.
8. Bloodline → Carrying on your distinguished family name has fallen to you and the equally well-bred spouse of your family's selection.
7. Disapproval → Your marriage has been arranged to keep you away from the person with whom you truly wish to be.

Scenario:

1. First meeting → This is the very first time you're meeting your future spouse.
2. Courtship → To get to know each other and encourage affection, your family has approved of you going on dates.
3. Engagement party → Be it a huge, formal affair or a small, intimate get together, you're celebrating (or pretending).
4. Wedding day → The big day!
5. Reception → The big party!
6. Wedding night → Every meme needs a smut prompt, right?
7. Honeymoon → Where will you go with your new spouse and what will you do there?
8. Been at this a while → Just starting to get to know the other person

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He smiles crookedly his carefully gelled hair still back from his face. He reaches out and tucks one errant piece of her hair behind her ear. His gloved fingers brush against her cheek cautiously. Then he clears his throat and opens the door for her. “Your chariot awaits, Mrs. Ford.” It’s meant to be teasing and light.

He settles into the car but before he turns it on he turns to look at his new wife. “I know... I know you wanted something, someone different.” He lowers his eyes knowing that he has to say this but he can’t look at her. “But if there’s anything you ever want, Kitty, just ask and I’ll do my damnedest to make sure you get it.” Even if that includes her finding someone outside their marriage for certain things that he can’t give her

Her breath catches a bit as he tucks her hair back - a surprisingly intimate gesture that she isn't expecting, a moment that passes too quickly before she realizes it. Even as she giggles at his joking tone, she's still trying to understand what happened.

As she buckles her seat belt, she turns back to him, watching and listening as he wears his heart on his sleeve. With a soft smile, she places a hand on his arm - covered up, just like everything else about him, and it tears at her heart that she can't provide him the kind of warmth she's so used to receiving when she's feeling down - and squeezes gently.

"I know, Kevin. Thank you. But just as long as I know I'm not alone in this, I think I'll be okay." Then she turns as best as she can in her seat to face him completely. "And you're not alone either, all right? I'm here for you."

Even if these were less than ideal circumstances, they were in this together.

He sighs looking down at her hand on his covered arm. His other hand covers hers. “I know. I do but you shouldn’t be without just because there are a lot of things I can’t do.” Hell just being around a lot of mutants</> who all know and respect his power is enough to send him close to a panic attack. Taking her out, being with her outside of that carefully cultivated bubble? Virtually impossible.

He looks away. “I want you to have everything, Kitty. Because you deserve that. I already have everything I need. A pretty wife, my forge, Mimsy. But I know. I know there’s got to be more that you want.” He’s saying this all wrong but it’s wrong to just blurt out that he can’t be a full husband to her - in the biblical sense - and she should find that solace somewhere else.

But it seems so crass to say that. Plus they had just sworn an oath before God and Mutants to be faithful.

Her frown deepens, and her grip on his arm tightens ever so slightly. "...maybe," she finally admits. "Maybe there are other things that I want. The truth is, I'm not entirely sure. I guess I won't really get the chance to figure it all out."

Being one of the younger members of the team, there had still been a lot of things she wanted to do or try before getting married. But that wasn't to be, it seems.

"But I don't care about what you can't give me. Because I know there's more that you can. And I want to do the same for you, because we're partners now. We promised to be there, and to take care of each other. I trust you, Kevin. I just hope you'll be able to trust me too."

He shakes his head. “Not you I don’t trust, Kitty.” He says gently. “I don’t trust me.” His gloves creak as he clenches a fist. “This power...” She’s never heard him explain how terrible it is. Though she is friends with Rogue so that might help.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to ever hurt you.” He whispers finally. “Even with a suppressor I’m terrified it’s not going to work.”

He has one. He’s even tested it out. But it’s not a guarantee and he’s someone who craves that guarantee. Especially when it comes to her. If they’re not careful she could get really hurt. And that would hurt him immensely.

She places her other hand on top of his, as much support as she's able to give him. "I know," she replies softly. Even if she doesn't know the full extent of his powers, she knows that it's enough that he has trouble getting close to...anyone.

"Like I said, though, I trust you. I know you would never want to hurt me." And she knows accidents happen sometimes with their powers. Even with as much control as she had over her abilities, there were times that she slips up. But she knows that he'd never try to hurt her on purpose.

He sighs. She trusts him. He doesn’t deserve it but she trusts him. His power could make him a widower. And she trusts him.

He smiles weakly. “Alright. We’ve got daylight left. What do ya say we head for Florida?” He’s ready time start this adventure. At least with her he knows she’ll respect the gloves.

He reaches up and cups her cheek. “Thank you. For not running. For agreeing to this. For everything.”

She smiles, a bit braver as she nods. "Let's get rolling." Maybe the time away can help them both clear their heads a bit.

Glancing up at him, her smile softens a bit as she places her hand over his. "Of course. I told you, I'm here for you. Just don't leave me alone in this, all right?"

He actually smiles. Something more than that half there smile that he usually graces people with. She’s sweet and kind. That’s what he needs. And someone patient with him. He doesn’t always get things right but he’ll try until he gets it right.

“Leave you alone? Never. Besides. You’ve now inherited Mimsy.” He says with a grin. His Rottweiler loves everyone but if she’s going to be living in close quarters she’ll get to see Mimsy at her best and worst.

He pulls back out onto the freeway headed south.

She giggles at that. “Great. She’s so sweet. I really wish she could’ve come with us.”

It was the one regret she had of getting away from the mansion.

He shakes his head, smiling. One thing is for sure, he loves his dog. "Nah, she would've been bored cooped up in the hotel room." He explains. "Besides, at the Mansion, everyone will spoil her, and she's got all that room to run." And Mimsy loves to run. She goes with Kevin every morning, tongue hanging out laughing as he runs.

His gloved hand reaches for her hand. He takes her hand into his, and just holds it in between the seats for right now. It's a tentative step, but a step.

"You wanna google how to get there? I know its south, but that's about it."

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’m sure she’ll still be missing you, though.”

Glancing over at him, she smiles and gently squeezes his hand. She doesn’t mind taking it slow.

“Sure,” she replies with a nod, taking out her phone to look up the address. “Just let me know if you wanna take a break and switch.” Then, as the drive continues, she’ll provide directions as needed.

He drives until late in the evening. They're somewhere in the Carolinas, having made damned good time. Kevin is one of those drivers who doesn't stop very often, when he has a destination in mind. But if she asked, he stopped. Why? Because he knows that not everyone travels like him.

"Wanna stop for the night?" He asks, taking her hand again. It's late, almost midnight. If she'd rather drive and push through, that's fine with him, but he needs rest.

At some point, he'd double checked the trunk and found their bags packed for more than a week. There'd even been a note from Josh for him to try not to be a stick in the mud. Only from Josh would he accept that. He'd also found the suppressor, tucked neatly into its ring box, taunting him.

She'd only asked to stop a few times - a rest stop here, a food and refueling break there - but eventually the day and stress start catching up to her. She'd been slightly dozing a bit when his question breaks the silence, and she stirs enough to answer his question, while she gently squeezes his hand on instinct.

"Hmm...yeah, I think we should probably get some sleep," she replies around a yawn. "It's been a pretty long day."

Edited 2020-06-09 15:41 (UTC)

"Long is one word for it." He says, smiling crookedly. Married before noon, on the road shortly after. The fact that they're in Charleston, SC is only due to his desire to put distance between them and the Mansion. The Professor has interfered quite enough for one day!

"Wait here. I'll get us a room, alright?" He squeezes her hand and heads into the office. He comes back and offers her the key. "Your room awaits." He says, grabbing the bags out of the back.

It's a pretty standard hotel room. Two beds, a bathroom, and a TV. Kevin puts her bag down. "You wanna grab a shower first?" He loves driving. Loves it. But when he stops, he's gotta shower. IT always feels like the dirt of the road is embedded in his skin. But he'll let her go first. As long as she saves him some hot water.

With a smile of her own, she gives his hand one last squeeze before he heads inside. She takes the time to gather their things, so it’s easier for him to grab when he returns.

She considers her options for a moment, then she nods. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Gathering some things, she heads into the bathroom.

The shower does a wonder for her mood, as if the hot water is washing the entire day away. She tries not to take too long, but it was just a nice feeling once she’s clean. Eventually she does emerge, wearing just a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

“Your turn,” she says with a grin.

Kevin has shucked some of his layers, by the time she's come out. Boots neatly placed by the bed, overshirt folded and put into his bag. He's sitting there in a tank top - unstable molecules, of course, since it's the only thing he can wear - and his jeans. His gloves are on the bedside table. It's probably the least amount of clothes anyone save his doctor has seen him in.

He's twisting his wedding ring on his finger, deep in thought. When she says something, he blinks and looks up at her. Seeing her smile, he relaxes a little, and grabs his clothes and the special towels he has to take everywhere with him - look, dissolving hotel towels is as bad as stealing them in his opinion.

Then, he disappears into the bathroom, leaving the other ring box on his bed. The ring on her finger had been designed by him too. Twisted wire around the gem of her choice with a hammer and anvil etched into band. It'd been a little archaic, his choice of design - letting people know she was his - but the design, with twisted platinum and yellow gold, had turned out beautiful.

But the ring in the box on his bed... that's different. A simple plan silver band, she's probably seen the technology around the Mansion. It's a suppressor. It'll negate his ability to dissolve organic matter with a touch. Leaving it on his bed... Kevin can't make that choice. He wants her to decide.

Coming back out, he's towel drying his hair, feeling like ten pounds of road dirt is finally off of him. "Did you want to order food or anything?"

She's a bit surprised to see him, because it really is the least amount of clothes she's seen him wear. She'd half suspected that he would've done all the undressing in the bathroom, and the thought that he was feeling a bit more at ease around her to shed some of those layers left a rather warm feeling in her chest.

As he goes to shower, she flops back onto one of the beds, her hands resting on her stomach to play with her ring as she stares up at the ceiling. She'd actually been really impressed that he'd made the rings - she'd known he was into blacksmithing, but she'd never really seen what he could make until now. And the design, while not really her style in most cases, seemed rather fitting now for some reason. His personal touch where he normally didn't leave one.

Glancing over as he returns, she sits up and fixes up her bathrobe a bit. Even though they are married now, she still can't help feeling a bit shy about her body. "I could go for a pizza, honestly," she replies. "Do you think there are any places open?"

As she tugs the towel off her head and reaches for her hairbrush, she finally notices the small box resting on the other bed. "What's that?"

He's not going to be asking her to disrobe anytime soon. He thinks they need to learn about each other a bit more first, before they go jumping into having a "real" marriage. Not that he'd object - sometimes, Kevin is just a guy about things - but he doesn't want to pressure her.

"Dominos is usually open, though I don't know around here. It's almost one." He admits with a shrug, and then glances around and slips on his glove before picking up the menu. He's barechested, having forgotten to find a tank top. Gingerly, he holds it out to her. "There's one on here open until three? Give 'em a call and see if they'll deliver?"

then she asks. He glares at the box. It had fallen out of his bag. He'd meant to save that for Florida. But he just scoops it up with his gloved hand and offers it to her. "It's... Forge and Doc McCoy made it for me. It negates my powers." They'd also given him rules about wearing it - no more than nine hours straight, period. Then he had to be off of it for eight hours, at least. But, if she wants him to wear it, he will.

She takes the menu from him, only just slightly distracted by the fact that he's shirtless - being an X-Man means they were all in really great shape, and she'd meant what she said earlier. He is pretty attractive.

When he starts explaining about the ring though, she takes in a breath and slowly takes the box from him, carefully opening it up. The ring itself doesn't look like anything extraordinary, but she knows better than most that appearances are deceiving.

"...Would it hurt?" she asks softly. She couldn't lie that the idea of some semblance of a normal relationship is appealing. But she doesn't want to risk him getting hurt just for that.

He never sees himself as attractive, but as a freak amongst mutants. He kills with a touch. Sure, Rogue does a lot of the same thing, but she can choose to kill or not. And that's just not fair.

Sitting on his bed, keeping deadly skin far away from her, he doesn't look at the box. "If I wear it for too long, it'll give me a headache." He shrugs. "But I can wear it for nine hours or so at a stretch." Long enough to sleep next to his wife, if he wanted to... if she wanted to.

"It's... a choice." He says, softly. "If I had it, I'd wear it all the time, but I can't." He slips on his second glove. They go up to midforearm, luckily. He reaches out and touches her hand. "It's your choice." He whispers. "I'll wear it, when and if you want me to."

Her eyes look from the box, then to his hands, and finally up to his face, studying him for a moment as she bites her bottom lip thoughtfully.

“....If...If I asked you to wear it, would you be comfortable with it? And don’t,” she adds quickly, “don’t say that you will if I want you to. Don’t think about me right now. I want to know if you’re okay with it. I need to know what your limits are.”

“I...” he doesn’t know what to say to that. He isn’t sure. “I want to wear it now.” He decides to go with the complicated truth. “I always want to wear it. To be able to just reach out and touch anything or anyone without having to be so careful. I want to wear it until the headache blinds me and I have to take it off.” He’s admitting things to her that he’s never admitted to anyone. Save Mimsy.

“But I’m scared of it too. With it on, it offers me a chance to be normal. And then takes it away when I take it off.” He looks at her, hair falling into his face. “That’s why it can’t be my choice. I need someone to help me with it. And as good a dog as Mimsy is, sometimes she’s not the greatest help.”

She releases a slow breath, watching him for another silent moment. She could understand, even if not fully, why something like that would be difficult. Wanting to be able to do things that people - herself included - take for granted every day, but being scared of getting used to it only for it to be fleeting. And her heart goes out to him, because it isn't fair that he has to make a choice like this.

And is it fair of her to ask him to wear it? To give him that bit of hope, when they both know it can't always last. In all honesty, she isn't sure. But she thinks, if she was in the same position, she'd still want to know...want to have a chance to experience what she'd always been missing, even if she couldn't always have it.

To take it however she can, for as long as she can.

So carefully she plucks the ring from its confines, holding it up to him. "You know..." she says with a small smile, "since we missed the reception...we never got to have our first dance."

It isn't fair, but he knows that God doesn't give him more than he can handle. Even if God has way more faith in him than he does himself. But, maybe, there are perks. Like his brand new wife of a little over thirteen hours holding out the suppressor to him. Cautiously, he peels off his right glove and takes the ring from her with his left hand.

Then, he slides it on.

Faith can be rewarded.

He knows it's working because his skin suddenly doesn't feel hypersensitive. It doesn't feel like it's reaching out to just touch things. So, he takes off his other glove, revealing his wedding ring. Then, he tunes the alarm clock radio to some slow song with no words and offers her a bare hand. Standing there shirtless, in only his jeans and socks, he wants to dance with his wife.

"Well," he whispers. "We should fix that, don't you think?"

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