Archive of Our Own

All eyes were on you.

Everything started when you remembered his name. Little did you know, that simple gesture would lead you to be a bride.

You ambled down the aisle, doing your best to keep your chin up despite your excited nerves. Your elegant dress glided on your body, wrapping you in beautiful white and lace. It was cut perfectly to compliment your body, and to make your soon-to-be-husband’s eyes widen. 

It felt surreal, for a moment that you’d imagined for months to finally be upon you. Your hands were a little shaky, so you clutched your bouquet of trilliums and poppies tighter. Your veil cascaded upon your hair like a waterfall. 

You had a small outdoor venue adjacent to a lake, so the ripples of water wove in with the music you chose.

You looked into the purple eyes of Matthew, who was clad in a tuxedo with a flower on the lapel. His glasses rode down his nose a little bit from nervous sweating. Matthew had tried to gel down the little curl that always stuck out from his head, but it bounced out because that strand seemed to have a mind of its own. 

He was more of a sensitive man, gentle and polite. A man who could cook and work around the house. A man who indulged all of your little hobbies and interests. How couldn’t you love him?

It was hard to believe that so many people ignored him in his life! You still remembered the time, early in the relationship, he cried just because you dismissed another man hitting on you.

Matthew awkwardly reached out to take your hands when you stepped upon the altar, but you were already holding a bouquet. The way you looked stunned him.

The best man—his brother Alfred—and your maid of honor stood by each of your sides.

The officiant, a good friend of Matthew’s, began his speech. “Friends, family, loved ones, we have come here today to witness Y/N and Matthew unite in marriage.”

His voice was hoarse with a Caribbean accent, and you could tell he was a friendly guy. The short speech was a mix of tradition and humor, laced with the man’s chuckles. He provided the audience a sweet story of your relationship and a spiel about the meaning of marriage.

“Please hold hands as I ask you to declare intentions,” the officiant spoke.

This time, you handed your bouquet to the maid of honor to hold Matthew’s soft, sweating hands. 

“Matthew, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

The “I do” fell from his lips immediately.

“Y/N, do you take Matthew to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

“I do,” you said.

Matthew was overjoyed. The attention and love was on him, him, him! Before your relationship, he never realized how much he craved such a thing, how it was a missing piece to his life. He wanted to kiss you right then and there, but he was strong enough to control himself. 

Matthew delivered his vows, “When I met you, you set my heart afire. I am grateful to you, therefore I promise to love you until the stars fade. I will always be there when you need me and I will try to be worthy of your love,” The man always claimed to be a poor speaker, but he was anything but, with how sweet he spoke his vows.

The intimacy between you and Matthew nearly blocked all the guests from your attention. You delivered your own vows, and the smile that was already on the canvas of his face grew.

Matthew plucked your ring from the cushion Kumajirou was holding. It was expensive and adorned with your favorite jewel. 

“With this ring, I give you my hand, committing my heart to you and signifying my love,” He slipped it on your finger. The metal complimented your skin beautifully, and it was like a token that made your relationship complete. You smiled, returning the favor by placing a ring on his trembling finger. 

“I pronounce you husband and wife!” the officiant boomed. “You may kiss the bride.”

Matthew didn’t even give it a moment before he held the back of your head and brushed his velvety lips against yours. It was a sweet, gentle kiss that lacked the occasional sexuality to it. The setting sun glowed upon you both.

It slowly settled in that you were actually married. It was a day you looked forward to, and knew it would eventually happen, but to actually be in that moment itself was euphoric.

You and Matthew walked over to the table and both signed the marriage license in pen.

˚₊‧꒰ა 💐 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The doors of the reception hall swung open to introduce the newlyweds. The noise of the guests reduced to murmurs. Your arms linked with Matthew’s. The tablecloths were draped in silk of your favorite color. Various cocktails and appetizers were enjoyed throughout the hour. Your love radiated through the room, providing positivity for the guests to soak up. Of course, Matthew had to have bloody caesars served alongside your favorite cocktail. 

His ravenous brother guzzled down the various cocktails, handpicked every little unhealthy food off the charcuterie board to eat, before messily clearing the plate of his appetizer. It was embarrassing for him, really, but you were so happy to be entwined with your love that it didn't bother you much.

When the cocktail hour came to a close, a soft piano cued the time for your first dance. Matthew took your hand and strode to the center of the dance floor. You grinned at your husband. He held your waist and you draped your arms onto his shoulders. You swayed in sync to the music, with occasional turns and dips. Matthew pressed his forehead against yours, similar to how one presses their head to the floor in prayer. You hummed in contentment, grounded by his touch and once again forgetting about the crowd.

You pecked him on the lips. It further proved your love, of which Matthew sometimes doubted out of his own self-deprecation.

Eventually, the first dance ensued. Time felt slowed during the dance, and it was a snap back to reality when the music changed and guests joined the dance floor. The dance floor still contained its joy and intimacy, though.

At one point, Alfred was made to wear hideous socks and dance. Matthew had told you it was some Québécois tradition to embarrass him for being unmarried or something. You didn't really understand, but it was lighthearted and fun.

Alfred also gave a humorous best man speech during the dinner, and it was heartfelt enough to make up for eating all the food during the cocktail hour. Alfred overall approved of your relationship, but was shocked his recluse brother got married before him. He was pretty loud and talkative in general, so there wasn't much to assume when it came to his opinions. The dinner was calmer than the dance floor, and gave the couple some time to breathe. 

Eventually, it was time for cutting the cake. It was a three-tired icecream cake enveloped in flowers made of icing. Matthew placed a gentle hand atop of yours as you smoothly slid the knife into the cake. The slice was placed onto a delicate porcelain plate, and your spoons dug into the shared slice. The cake cleared what little lipstick you had left after kisses and dinner, and it cooled your mouth. You scraped the icing flower off and ate that too. 

“I love you,” Matthew murmured, polite enough to swallow his cake before speaking.

“I love you too, Mattie."

The wedding party continued late into the night, further sealing your love. The joy coursing throughout you both didn't halt once.

˚₊‧꒰ა 💐 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚