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Teaser: We stayed in each other’s arms for a while. Then Hannah spoke, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I looked up at her face and saw the love she had for me. “Yeah,” I said, “we’ve both been busy in different ways.” Her eyes sparkled, “Do you want to?” My body tingled, “yes.”
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. All sexual acts depicted in this story take place between consenting adults. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: Two Hearts, One Wedding Author: RapeU Chapter Tags: Story setup, but some cuddling
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Hannah and Wendy return from The Blowout and Two Broken, One Whole in a dramatic relationship driven story about their wedding. It isn't necessary to read the two prior stories to enjoy this one. All the reader needs to know is they were both held against their will and gangraped repeatedly roughly a year prior to this story.
The seeds of future stories are going to be planted here, making this story a central one to the timeline of the women. And this story will be far from boring or draggy.
It was a month before our wedding, and Hannah was hardcore in the zone. She sat in her living room chair surrounded by color coded binders and neatly stacked spreadsheets. Her favorite blue gel pen moved steadily across her checklist, each checkmark deliberate, final. I watched her with both fascination and concern. The way she brought order to chaos was sexy, but I could tell she was exhausted.
“Private Travers reporting for duty,” I announced myself. “Delivery of coffee with a side of smart assery for General Thompson.” Hannah let out an exhausted sigh as if she’d been holding her breath for hours. “Perfect timing,” her voice was soft and sounded worse than she looked. “I was starting to feel like if I didn’t stop, something would go wrong,” she said while still scratching her pen on paper. I frowned and said, “like collapsing from exhaustion? Are you doing too much?” She shook her head too quickly. “No.” Then, without missing a beat asked, “what did you get me?” The lie was more to herself than to me, so I let it pass.
After a moment’s hesitation, I replied “Triple espresso with oat milk, light vanilla, three quarters full, with a splash of half and half on top.” Hannah froze and looked up with confusion knotting her eyebrows. “Huh?” Her head tilted slightly and she continued, “that sounds like something you’d order.” I shook my head, “Nope my order is blonde americano, triple shot, no room, but you can have that if you take a sip of yours and don’t like it.” Her mouth twitched into a frown and eyes narrowed. I continued, “as long as I can take a sip of mine.”
Hannah looked at me like I had grown a second head. “What are you up to,” she sighed. I grinned innocently, “nothing. I just wanted to eat something different.” She blinked once, twice, then said “Eat coffee?” I nodded and added, “also stop thinking for thirty seconds.” Then, I saw her face change out of planning mode as she realized what I was doing. “Oh,” she whispered, “you want to taste me and I taste you.” I took a step closer to her. “Bingo. You are exhausted and need a break. Come have one with me.”
She looked at the piles of binders and papers, then looked at me and asked, “can we just cuddle in bed for a while?” I set the coffee cups down and gave her a salute, “Operation Boobie Pillow is a go. My boobies being the pillow of course.” She heartily laughed at that, and some of the tiredness left her eyes momentarily. Then, she stood up, set all of the materials in her lap on the chair, and walked towards me. “What am I going to do with you,” she said. I grinned “Marry me.” Her arms wrapped around my neck, “love you,” she replied and gave me a quick kiss. “I love you too,” I whispered.
Shortly after we lay in bed, my torso bare so she could lay on me and listen to my heartbeat. Her hand was on my other breast, fingers splayed the way she liked to do. One hand was around her back, the other rubbed her arm the way she liked. “You work too hard,” I murmured, “we could elope and save you the stress.” She snorted, knowing I wasn’t serious and sleepily replied, “not after you sold me on sunflowers.” I whispered back to her, “seriously, I could help with tasks.” This is what it had been like for the past year. Hannah would end up overextending herself and quit delegating tasks to people, then I’d have to step in to help her slow down to normal levels.
“Ok,” Hannah said a hair too quickly. “I just want to give you something good after…everything. You deserve good.” I gave her a little squeeze, “this? Right here? You laying on me? This is good. My most favorite place is one of us laying on the other’s chest.” Her head rubbed up and down against my bosom as a nod, “yes, here in your booby pillows I can already see a solution to one of the problems I was struggling with.” I snickered, “what problem is that?” Her thumb on my breast moved slowly over it, affectionately, “I forgot to give myself time to spend with you.” My breath caught in my throat. She continued, her voice sounded like she was about to fall asleep, “but I’ll always make time. You’re always on my list.” I drew her slightly tighter within me and whispered, “I love you.” She immediately whispered back, “I love you too.”
Hannah’s phone rang with a ringtone that neither of us wanted to hear at that moment. Her mom’s ringtone. She let out a groan of frustration and started to lift her head. Gently, I pushed her back onto me. “Let me handle her.” There was a pause, the phone continued to ring. “What are you going to do?” I cleared my throat, “this. Hey, Siri.” My phone chirped back from the nightstand. “Text Diane.” After my phone acknowledged the command, I said, “Hannah is asleep on me, I can’t get to my phone without waking her. We are doing amazing. I can’t wait to be married next month and call you mom.”
Hannah’s phone by that point had stopped ringing, but her mom didn’t call back. My phone chirped, informing me of Diane sending a message. I instructed Siri to read it. “Diane said: just wanted to check in and ask about plans if the weather gets bad. They’re saying an Artic front might come down later than expected this year. I’ll call back later. Thank you for being a sweet future daughter-in-law.” The tension in Hannah’s body dissolved, “holy shit I love you,” she whispered. “I love you,” I replied back. It didn’t take long for me to hear soft snoring coming from my chest. I carefully adjusted myself for sleep comfort and quickly fell asleep with my favorite woman in my arms.
Chapter Tags: Story, no sex Content Warnings: Mama drama along with an ex girlfriend.
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Chapter 2 Disruption Drama
Wendy Elizabeth, I must impress upon you that this union is fundamentally incompatible with our values, and, as such, we cannot in good conscience offer our support. In fact, your father and I intend to attend solely for the purpose of voicing our formal objection, as is our right under state law.
We hope you will reconsider before making an irreversible mistake. You are always welcome at home, provided you come home alone.
Sincerely, Mom
The first I realized my hands were shaking was when I spilled coffee onto the trackpad. I quickly wiped it off then set my cup down hard enough that coffee sloshed over the rim. Then, I closed my eyes and tried to count backward from ten. I only got as far as eight before I started picturing the look on my mother’s face as she stood up in a room full of my friends and declared my marriage “against her convictions.” The thought made my stomach drop like I had swallowed a hundred stones.
“Wen, what’s wrong?” Hannah asked when she heard a choked sob come out of me. She swiftly moved towards me. Tears fell down my cheeks as I turned the laptop to where she could view the screen. “They’re…coming…to…object,” I managed to sob out through tears. Her eyebrows shot up as she read, lips pressed into a flat, angry line, and her nostrils flared. She looked at me, then the laptop, and for a moment she said nothing. Then the silence popped as her face became a mask of calm and she went into crisis mode.
“Oh hell no. They’re not ruining our special day.” She moved back to her seat and snatched her phone. “I’ll have to prepare for a scene, a protest even? Damn it, if they so much as…” She stopped mid-sentence, pressed the phone to her ear, and strode into the hallway, voice low and clipped. I fumbled for my phone and texted my best childhood friend, Zoe Morgan.
WEDDING EMERGENCY! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!
“Yes, Lindsey, it’s Hannah Thompson. About our wedding.” Pause. “We need to talk about guest security.” Her voice had that air traffic controller cool, but under it I heard the note that meant Hannah was ready to unleash fire and brimstone if necessary. “I know it’s not usually an issue. But there’s a…delicate situation. Some guests may attempt to disrupt the ceremony.” She paused, listening, then said, “no, not a fun flash mob thing. More like the actual 'speak now or forever hold your peace' scenario. Is there a policy for that?” Her tone was so direct I felt myself steadying. I watched her from the living room as she took notes on the back of a shopping receipt. My phone buzzed. Zoe: OMW. Wine or bourbon? I texted back wine and put my phone down, eyes watery.
“Can you physically remove someone? Like, right there at the altar?” The corner of my mouth twitched. Even in the worst circumstances, Hannah’s instinct for logistics was unshakeable. Just watching her work out the problem made feel slightly better. I blinked away my tears as Hannah’s voice continued, “that’s great, Lindsey. Thank you. Yes, please put it in writing.” She paused, then, her voice softening, “You’ve been so helpful. Seriously.” She hung up, then came over and sat next to me. I felt the radiating warmth of her body and, for a moment, the apartment was just us and the steady drum of two hearts not quite in sync but damn close.
Hannah folded her hands in her lap, then looked up, hesitant. “So, this is a horrible time to tell you I know, but with your mom’s threat I feel like you deserve to know this. Amanda has been…messaging me. About the wedding.” I frowned, “The person you took to prom?” She nodded and added, “she’s an ex girlfriend too.” A sigh escaped her and she continued, “She got wind, I guess, through the old friend circuit. She says there’s ‘unfinished business.’” Hannah’s voice almost broke on the words. “I’ve ignored her, but she’s persistent.”
A weird, illogical relief coursed through me. I wasn’t the only one with ghosts in my closet. “What does she want?” I asked, voice flat. Hannah answered, “to talk. Maybe see if there’s still…something.” She rolled her eyes, but there was pain under it. “She’s being stupid. I’m telling you now so it doesn’t blindside us later.” I nodded, feeling a strange camaraderie in our mutual dread and asked “should I be jealous?” I meant it as a joke, but it didn’t quite land.
Hannah shook her head, almost smiling. “I’d be more worried about you running off with the caterer. She makes a mean carrot cake.” I groaned but couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I said, “terrible. What am I going to do with you?” She smiled, “Love me.” I gave her a quick kiss and replied, “more and more every day.” She smiled with a sparkle in her eye, then her face changed back to calm crisis mode as she whispered, “Aisha.” Aisha Grant was Hannah’s best childhood friend. I nodded, “I’ve already texted Zoe. She’s on her way.” Hannah nodded, “Smart.” Her fingers flew across her phone as she sent the text. A few moments later her phone dinged with a reply. “Aisha’s on her way too.”
Within forty minutes, the four of us were jammed into our living room, which now smelled like a vineyard that also sold highlighters and binder tabs. Aisha, all business, set down her leather notebook, flipped it open to a color-coded tab labeled “Crisis Management,” and started taking notes before anyone even sat. Zoe poured the wine and thrust a glass in my hand “Drink. Then tell us whose ass needs kicking.” She sprawled on the couch, legs crossed, already in full offense mode. I took a sip and said, “it’s my parents,” I sighed. “They’re coming just to object. Like, formally. Out loud. My mom sent me an email today about it.” “Ok” Aisha said with a stern look on her face, “what are the odds your mom is bluffing?” I sighed, “This is a woman who berated her nephew’s valedictorian speech because it included gender inclusive terms and still refers to said nephew as ‘niece,’” I shook my head, “They’re not bluffing.”
Aisha grimaced, dropped into a chair, and opened her laptop. “Ok, here’s what I’ve got,” she said quickly, “Formal legal options are out. The wedding is less than a month away and legal takes longer than that.” She paused, ran a hand through her dark hair, and continued. “You could move the venue, but that runs the risk of them following you.” Hannah shook her head, “No chance of moving the venue, not this late.” Aisha nodded and continued, “You could play nice, let them in, and have security prepped to remove them at the first sign of disruption.” Zoe chimed in, “I like that idea. Let her make a fool of herself while both of you stand there cool as a cucumber. The more reasonable you look, the more everyone remembers how reasonable you were.”
I nodded, “What if she tries to disrupt the vows? Like, literally stands up and objects?” Zoe downed half her glass, then refilled it. “We could get a plant to stand up and object first, throw them off their game. Maybe I could say Wen’s too good for Han and we’ll take it outside, old school duel style. It’d be legendary.” Hannah, who had been scanning through her phone, looked up. “The officiant can ignore her,” she said, ignoring Zoe’s joke. She turned the phone toward me, showing a sample wedding script. I read it aloud “If there are any objections, please write them on a slip of paper and place them in the nearest recycling bin.” Zoe laughed so hard she nearly choked on her wine. “Do that. It’s so good.” Aisha had a thoughtful look. “Doesn’t stop them from objecting aloud though. I’ll work on a plan for the officiant, ushers, and venue staff involving this.” Then, Aisha smiled at me “We won’t let them ruin your day.”
“There’s another problem,” Hannah said. “Amanda keeps messaging me saying she wants to talk.” Aisha blinked “Ex girlfriend Amanda Barkley? The one you went to prom with?” Hannah nodded. Aisha frowned, “Why is she even…” then shook her head. “Dumb bitch still acts like she’s in high school.” She gave an annoyed sigh, “the plan for Wendy’s parents will work for Amanda. Though, Amanda’s less of a threat when she’s confronted directly.”
I watched them volley solutions back and forth, like it was any other Friday night, but my brain kept snagging on Hannah’s ex and the “unfinished business,” whatever it was. Aisha’s pen scribbled something, then I heard her say “Wendy?” I realized everyone was looking at me, waiting for a reaction. I forced myself to say, “Yeah. Good idea.” My voice sounded like it was coming from a box behind my own head.
Zoe frowned, she knew my tells better than anyone aside from Hannah. “Hey, Wen. Look at me.” I looked at her and she continued, “we won’t let anyone ruin your day.” She smiled, “you both deserve to be happy.” I nodded, but the nod was slow, mechanical. The edges of the room went grainy, the voices a little further away. I watched myself from somewhere high and off to the left, floating above the spilled wine and sticky notes and my own body curled up on the couch.
Hannah’s voice slipped under the haze. “Wendy, you’re safe with us.” Just the sound of her saying my name was enough to tug me a few inches closer to the surface. Aisha closed her notebook. “Maybe we should take a break.” Her tone was much gentler, less business like. I nodded, this time meaning it, and stood up. “Restroom,” I said, and moved to the bathroom, the movement of my legs feeling almost entirely optional.
Inside, I closed the door and pressed my forehead to the mirror. It was cold, and I let the chill soak in. I looked at my reflection. My pupils were blown, jaw clenched, and sweat misted my upper lip. I splashed water on my face, took four slow, deliberate breaths, and reminded myself, out loud, “You’re here. This is now.” When I came back, the living room was quieter, the conversation muted. Hannah watched me sit, then angled herself a little closer.
Aisha picked up where she left off, but in a softer voice. “The plan, if you want it, is simple. We keep security on call. Zoe and I can run interference, one up front, one in the back. If your parents try anything, they’re removed politely and quickly. But if you two stay calm and focused on each other, people will remember that more than the interruption. If Amanda tries anything, same scenario.”
Zoe leaned back, feet on the coffee table, and declared, “I volunteer as tribute. If anyone’s getting thrown out, it’s gonna be me. I’ll bite them if I have to.” Aisha deadpanned, “I believe she means that literally.” I laughed, surprised at the sound of it. The room relaxed a little, the air softening at the edges. Hannah’s hand found mine and held it tight and she said, “we got this.” It was something I would normally say, I realized. She was using my own optimism to make me feel better. And it worked. “I love you,” I told her. Hannah smiled, “I love you too.”
The meeting wound down with the leftovers of the wine and a promise to regroup if anything new happened. Zoe left first, with a hug that nearly cracked my ribs. Aisha lingered in the doorway, her eyes meeting Hannah’s in a silent, serious exchange from one protector to another. After they left, Hannah and I sat in the quiet, the only sound the slow tick of the wall clock. She said with her voice low, “you don’t have to be okay yet.” I replied, “I know. Can we just cuddle for a while? I need you.”
I lay on her breast, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Her hands gently, comfortingly caressed me. Eventually, I heard myself speak, voice barely a whisper. “I still want their approval. I know it’s stupid. I know they’ll never give it. But I want it anyway.” Hannah made a little “mmm” sound, squeezed me closer. “It’s not stupid.” Her voice had that deep certainty she saved for the hard truths. “Everyone wants their parents to be proud of them. Even if they won’t admit it.”
Tears formed in my eyes and I started sobbing. “It’s just not fair. I wish my parents were like yours.” For a long while she didn’t say anything, just held me through my sobs. When I got myself back under control, I heard her softly say, “me too.” She kissed my forehead, “we’ll get through this. We can get through anything.” Her confidence, the warmth of her body, her heartbeat, and the sheets were a fortress of comfort. My breathing slowed until I drifted off into sleep.
When I woke hours later, the clock glowed 2:14 AM. I could tell Hannah was still awake because she gently stroked my ear the way I liked. “You okay?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep. Her fingers paused, then she said, “Yeah. I’m just making a list in my head.” I yawned, then asked, “of what?” Her voice softly replied, “all the ways I’m going to keep you safe.”
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Chapter Tags: FF lesbian sex Content Warnings: Every couple fights, including Hannah and Wendy.
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Chapter 3 Pressure
Two weeks before the wedding I came home one night and I could feel the tension in our apartment before I even opened the door. Something felt off. I found Hannah at the kitchen table, stiff as a board. A few papers were disorganized. One of her many contingency folders was open, but empty. Most concerning was her favorite blue gel pen on the floor. Her right hand was drooped to her side, trembling like she had too much caffeine. I swallowed, knowing this was something serious and I had to tread carefully.
“Han,” I said as gently as I could while afraid, “what’s wrong?” The way Hannah spoke was similar to how she spoke the first day everything went to hell in that lodge, when she had said “they took the doors.” It was completely devoid of any kind of emotion. “The caterer had a fire,” she stayed frozen in her chair, didn’t look at me. “Had to cancel.” Her voice remained a dangerous calm as she continued, “I meant to make a contingency for that, but I forgot.” Hannah turned to face me and she looked like total hell. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, hair a tangled mess of cowlicks and disheveled. Fear made my heart nearly stop. I took a deep breath and willed myself to remain calm.
“Ok,” I said. “I can take care of this.” I pulled my phone out and called Zoe. “Hey Wen, almost the big day right?” Zoe answered and I could practically see her wide grin in my mind. I got right down to business. “Z, I need you to help me get a list of possible caterers for the wedding in a google doc. Ours fell through because of a fire.” There was a momentary pause. “On it. Wanna do it lesbian style where you take the top I take the bottom and we meet in the middle?” I groaned, “Z this is serious.” Without missing a beat she said “I’ll be as serious as a heart attack.” “Zoe,” I said in a warning tone. “Ok, ok I seriously found some contenders and am seriously putting them in an old group project google document we did senior year. Now I’m going to seriously call someone. Love ya girl, bye!”
It took us about an hour but we eventually found a caterer. Hannah sat at the table the whole time. “We’ve got someone,” I beamed. “They can replicate the menu exactly. It’ll be a little more expensive, but that shouldn’t be catastrophic.” Hannah stood up rigidly, her phone tight in her hand. I was expecting the tension to deflate, instead it heightened as she said in a flat tone, “you didn’t have to do that.” Her words landed sideways. “You’re hardcore stressed out,” I said defending myself, “of course I needed to do it.” Her eyes flashed fire. “I was about to handle it.” I shook my head. “You were frozen in place.”
Hannah’s nostrils flared. “You should have waited. I just needed a moment. Instead you just swooped in without asking.” I felt heat rise up in my cheeks. “Someone had to fix it. You were literally crying I see it in your eyes.” Her mouth became a thin line. “So I’m incompetent because I’m emotional?” I let out an exasperated sigh, “You’re drowning, Hannah. You’re taking on the wedding all by yourself with multiple contingency plans, half of which aren’t even in the realm of possibility in this dimension, and on top of that you’ve got grad school. And you haven’t mentioned school at all in the past month. So that makes me wonder if there’s anything else you neglected.”
“Don’t.” Hannah’s tone was dark and dangerous. “Don’t what,” I angrily challenged. She replied through gritted teeth and fire in her eyes, “you’re not my mother, so don’t mother me. I’m an adult, not a child.” Something about that made me snap, “Well you’re acting like a child who wants to control everything.” The fire in her eyes burned brighter. “So I’m a child and controlling? Wow.” My voice raised, anger long past the point of control, “You don’t delegate, you don’t trust anyone else to do it right, and when someone steps in you resent them for it. It’s exhausting.”
Hannah’s eyes flashed again, and in a flat tone she said “Ok. So I’m exhausting. It’s all my fault. Got it.” I growled and threw up my hands in frustration. “You’re not listening! You want to control everything around you but you don’t even take care of yourself. You barely sleep. You forget to eat. You shower, what, once a week? And you act like that’s fine because there’s always something more important than you.” Hannah took a shaky breath and was stiller than I had ever seen her before. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you even like me, or if you just like fixing me.”
She might as well have slapped me in the face. My stomach dropped and for a moment all the fire in my veins froze. “I…that’s not…” I took a step towards Hannah. She flinched away, then unleashed her inner beast, “you run around like everything is sunshine and rainbows, swooping in to make yourself feel useful. But underneath it all you crack jokes to hide how useless you feel when you should just ask what you can do to help.” Her voice shook, “Maybe instead of fixing me, you could try asking what I need.” The room tilted. I couldn’t tell if the sound in my ears was my pulse or something breaking. Hannah opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “I need space. I can’t right now.” Before I could respond, she was out the door, slamming it behind her with a finality that echoed through the apartment.
I sank to the floor, phone still in my hand, and exhaled shakily. The argument replayed over and over in my head, and I sobbed with my head in my hands. It felt like hours passed. The apartment was quiet, too quiet, except for the occasional tick of the clock and the distant hum of the heater. Eventually I managed to rise from the floor and migrate to the couch. My stomach ached from worry, from guilt, from exhaustion. Finally the apartment door opened.
Hannah stepped inside, shoulders tense, hair pulled back haphazardly, eyes wary. She froze when she saw me on the couch with my eyes on the floor. “Wen…” Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable. I started sobbing again, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry.” Her footsteps got close to me and she said, “I’m sorry I hurt you too.” Her voice sounded like she was about to cry like me. I took a few calming breaths and whispered, “I was so scared seeing you nearly collapse that I didn’t realize you didn’t need someone to fix it, you just needed me.”
Hannah sat next to me on the couch. “I lashed out. I didn’t mean to make it about you. I just…felt powerless. I haven’t felt so powerless since…there.” I offered my hand and she took it. “I didn’t mean to mother you,” I said, “I’m just so worried something will give because of how much you’re taking on.” She was quiet a moment before she said, “I am not failing any classes. But I have been neglecting one.” I nodded, “I'm sorry I assumed.” I said softly, “I’ll be better about asking if you need any help.”
Hannah let out a breath., “I’m sorry I poked at one of the reasons you make jokes. That was wrong.” I exhaled and sniffled, “that one really hurt,” I admitted. She looked pained and nodded, “Do you need a hug?” I leaned closer and put my head against her shoulder as her arms wrapped around me. Hannah continued, “that’s why I left. I saw what my words did to you and it broke me. I didn’t want to hurt you.” She ran her fingers through my hair, “don’t stop making jokes. I need the laughter when they’re good and enjoy groaning whenever they’re bad.” I squeezed her hand, and looked up at her. “Promise me you’ll take more care of yourself. Give yourself more time for you.” She nodded. “If you ask to help that will help me recognize that need easier. Yes.” I snuggled back on her shoulder near the nape of her neck. “I don’t want us to fight like that again. It scares me.” “I know,” she said. Her voice was gentle, almost a confession. “I don’t either. I don’t want to lose us over the stress.”
I sighed, “next time, we pause. Talk. Let each other in before we explode.” She patted my back. “Okay. Pause. Talk. Together.” I let out a relieved sigh and felt emotionally drained. “are we ok?” Hannah said, “yes. We are ok.” We stayed in each other’s arms for a while with my head on her shoulder. Then Hannah spoke, “Wen,” she said softly, like she was afraid the words might break if she said them too loud. “I don’t need you to fix me.” She swallowed. “Just…please always hold me.” I gave her body a squeeze, “Then tell me what you need,” I softly said. “And if you aren’t sure, let me stay with you until you figure it out.” I felt Hannah’s shoulder relax underneath my head. “I can do that.”
There was a long pause that felt like neither of us wanted to stop hugging. Then Hannah spoke again. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I looked up at her face and saw the love she had for me. “Yeah,” I said, “we’ve both been busy in different ways.” Her eyes sparkled, “Do you want to?” My body tingled, “yes.”
I broke away from our hug first, a little awkward in the aftermath, but she caught my hand and squeezed as if to say it was okay, more than okay. Hannah’s eyes were soft, her face open in that way it only ever was when it was just the two of us. I laced my fingers through hers and tugged gently. She followed, slow, careful, like we were moving underwater. The walk to our bedroom was silent and deliberate, as if any sudden movement might cause one of us to float away.
At the foot of the bed I looked at her face and saw a tear that hadn’t been wiped away. I gently brushed the tear off her cheek with my thumb. She leaned into me with a soft, gentle kiss. When the kiss broke I slowly started unbuttoning my blouse. Hannah took off her sweater then began unbuttoning her blouse as well. Gently I touched her bare arms near her shoulders and leaned into her with another slow kiss. Her hands cradled my face and brushed against my cheeks.
The kiss broke. We moved slowly after that, clothes shed with care, pausing to look at each other before every touch. Once we were both naked, we crawled into bed and held each other for a while, letting the feel of each other’s skin settle us. We kissed again, soft and unhurried, and warmth spread through me. Every touch came with tenderness and care, as if we were both listening for yes.
When the kiss broke, I whispered into Hannah’s ear, “I’m ready, but take all the time you need.” Hannah didn’t answer with words. She eased herself free of my arms, and I rolled onto my back. She hovered above me, her long hair untamed and wild, then leaned down to kiss me, slower this time. I parted my lips to let her in. Her tongue brushed over mine, soft and confident, never rushed.
Hannah’s lips explored the edge of my jaw, then traced down to the spot under my ear that always made me shiver. She paused there, her breath soft and warm, and I felt the tension of the evening draining out of both of us, replaced by a different kind of need. She kissed down my neck, gentle and deliberate, as if trying to memorize the shape of my pulse. Her hand cupped my face, thumb stroking my cheek, grounding me in the here and now.
When she finally drew back, our eyes met. In her expression I saw a fierce kind of gentleness, a hunger that wasn’t just about sex, but about wanting to know every part of me. She hesitated, watching me closely, checking for doubt. I smiled, steady and sure. “I want you,” I whispered, and that was all the permission she needed.
Slowly, her mouth traced kisses down my body. On any other night, Hannah would have turned it into a tease, playful and deliberate. But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about care. Her lips moved on, kissing the space between my breasts, then drifting lower, to my stomach. When she reached my sex, she kissed me in a way that made the world very, very small. There was no teasing, no games. She parted me with her tongue and her lips, slow and gradual, like she was savoring every inch.
My breath left me in a long, shuddery sigh. She didn’t rush, didn’t build in frantic waves. Instead, she would retreat, then return, circling, sampling, coaxing. It was the sort of touch that said: I know you, I know what you need, and tonight I need it too. Pleasure built up gradually until the orgasm washed over me like a baptism. Normally Hannah would have kept going, carried forward by instinct and momentum. But tonight, she stopped. She lifted her head and looked at me, really looked, like she was checking not just my body but my heart.
“I want to make you feel good now,” I whispered, my voice still a little unsteady. She nodded once, small and deliberate, then eased herself away and lay back beside me. There was no rush in it, no tension, just trust. I followed her, settling close, tracing a hand along her arm, feeling how warm she was beneath my touch.
I let my fingertips glide over her ribcage, memorizing every ridge and hollow, the soft give of skin over bone. We pressed close, and I found myself tracing her collarbone, then the line of her jaw, then the notch at her throat. I kissed all of those areas gently. Hannah’s eyes fluttered closed and she made a sound, not quite a moan, more a surrender. I kissed lower between her breasts, then lower to her stomach.
Hannah’s stomach was still tight from all the crying earlier, and I wanted to smooth away every bit of tension with my hands, my lips, my body. I moved slow, trailing kisses along the gentle rise of her belly, tracing the stretch of skin with my tongue. She was so warm under my mouth, her breath coming in soft, uneven exhales. I slid lower, stopping at the delicate bones of her hip, kissing the firm curve there. I could feel her watching me, her pulse fluttering under her skin. She lifted her hips slightly, not a demand but a silent invitation.
I took my time, the way she had for me. I wanted her to feel unrushed, to feel safe. Every sigh and shiver, every shift of her hips, I matched with a gentle touch, a kiss, the careful curl of my tongue. I lingered between her legs, not greedy, just slow and steady, letting her feel at her own pace. The taste of her was something that always felt like home, clean and sharp and a little sweet. She gasped, a tiny, desperate sound, so I gave more, but not too much. It was like learning a song and wanting to play every note, but knowing when to let silence fill the space. I watched her hands clutch at the sheets, then reach for my hair and cradle the back of my head, holding me to her as her body trembled. When she got her orgasm, it was not loud or wild. It was tight and quiet, her whole body curling around the moment, heat and release that left her breathless.
After, we curled together, naked and warm, with the comforter pulled up to our necks. Hannah buried her face in the crook of my shoulder, hair tickling my skin. She let out the kind of sigh you make when you are completely content. I matched her sigh. We stayed like that for a long while, arms wrapped around each other, hearts quiet but full.
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I could have easily skipped this chapter, even skipped the fight part and just put in a lesbian sex scene. But that would cheapen the characters. I want them to be real to the reader, real and human.
Also, this was a difficult sex scene to write because I had to be careful it didn't turn into something toxic. Make up sex in a toxic relationship would be wild, untamed, raw. I couldn't write what I wanted to write (the wild, untamed, and raw.) Instead, I had to write what the characters both needed and wanted for their relationship to be strong.
Wedding night sex on the other hand, which will be part of this story, will be the wild, untamed, and raw that we all want them to do.
Focusing on relationship is rare in the ravishment lit, and the reasons for that are obvious. My only cavil is that the girls seem a bit too rational when making up. Perhaps I'd've liked to see Wendy being wrong about something in her assessment of the situation, as in 'And no, Wen, I'm not failing any of my classes!' Will we see them not talking something through again, perhaps?
RapeU wrote: Tue Jan 13, 2026 5:04 amWedding night sex on the other hand, which will be part of this story, will be the wild, untamed, and raw that we all want them to do.
Lucius wrote: Tue Jan 13, 2026 8:42 pm
Focusing on relationship is rare in the ravishment lit, and the reasons for that are obvious. My only cavil is that the girls seem a bit too rational when making up.
Keep in mind they are both regularly going to therapy to help with trauma. So they've gone through therapy techniques when having a flashback or whenever their feelings get hurt so many times it's second nature to them. Sometimes when you're angry, those techniques go out the window for a little bit until you've calmed down. And that's what Hannah leaving for a few hours was for. If they instantly made up without time between going nuclear, yeah that would be unrealistic. But as is, it's pretty close to how a couple like them would fight.
Perhaps I'd've liked to see Wendy being wrong about something in her assessment of the situation, as in 'And no, Wen, I'm not failing any of my classes!'
I actually had it written this way at first, then decided to change it just before posting. I agree with you, it's better to have Hannah neglecting a class instead of failing it. After all, it is January 31st on that particular day in the timeline and the semester has essentially just started. And thinking about it, neglecting instead of getting to the point of actually failing would be more in character for her. I'll edit that now.
Will we see them not talking something through again, perhaps?
Not in this story. Unlikely in other stories, but possible.
RapeU wrote: Tue Jan 13, 2026 5:04 amWedding night sex on the other hand, which will be part of this story, will be the wild, untamed, and raw that we all want them to do.
I like where this thread is going.
I held back somewhat in Two Broken, One Whole because I wanted the wedding night to be the most explosive sex scene, and possibly a close second honeymoon sex scene. It will be a few chapters to do a little bit of character development, get through the actual wedding, and plant a few seeds for future stories, but it will be
Chapter Tags: No sex, story
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Chapter 4 The Day Before
The morning before my wedding was weirdly quiet. I expected some kind of cosmic disturbance, but there was only the hum of our refrigerator and the sound of my own brain. The second I moved to get out of bed, Hannah yanked me closer to her and mumbled, “I already miss you.” I kissed the top of her head, and said, “me too. Why are we doing this tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding again?” She yawned, then said, “because I want the first time I see you tomorrow to actually matter.” She paused for a moment then added “and you deserve to be surprised and feel good.”
We kissed and embraced for the last time before we would become wives tomorrow. I grudgingly shuffled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. There was a sticky note on the mirror in Hannah’s handwriting: "Remember to eat. Hydration is sexy. Also, marry me tomorrow." My heart did a little flip. Even when she was drowning in stress, she did little things to remind me she loved me.
I texted Zoe: I’m up. No pants, but up. When should I expect to be kidnapped?
The reply was instant: 15 min. Pants or not, you’re getting abducted.
I quickly packed a duffel bag with essentials for staying one night at Zoe’s apartment. Most of what was needed for the next day, like my wedding dress, was already there, Hannah’s marching orders to ensure the wedding would go smoothly. Soon after packing, the front door shuddered with a rhythmic knock. I was about to open the door when it flew open on its own, and Zoe burst in like a tornado. “WENNNNDY!” she boomed, arms wide like she was announcing my coronation.
I yelped, trying not to drop my bag. “You trying to scare me to death before the wedding Z? Is that the plan?” She grinned wide and toothy, “Naw, with you it would be more like death from an endless orgasm. Your face would be a frozen scream and the coroner would wonder why your pants keep getting wet.” I laughed and could hear Hannah’s laughter from the bedroom. Zoe heard it too. “Hanner! I’m kidnapping your woman now,” she shouted. Hannah did her best fake scared voice “oh no,” she yelled. “How will I ever get her back? Who will rescue her from danger?” We all laughed.
Zoe whipped out a black sleep mask from her back pocket and dangled it in front of my face. “Blindfold time. No objections. It’s time for your de-sadification. And I'm taking your phone.” I tried to sidestep, but she was faster. “Zoe, what the hell? Where are we going? I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet…” She cackled, “that’s not in the rules.” She expertly slipped the mask over my head. It pressed gently on my eyelids, and I caught a brief, soft whiff of Zoe’s lemony hand lotion. “Now, hold my arm. If you trip over anything, it’s your own fault.”
I grabbed for her forearm, which was solid and warm. She led me out of the apartment with the confidence of a service dog. There was a clunk as we stepped over the curb, and then I heard her car beep open. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” I asked, half joking, half nervous. “Last time you kidnapped me we ended up on some pedestrian bridge where you insisted we could summon Bloody Mary or something.”
Zoe snorted, “First of all, that bridge has a great view of the sunset over a river.” She helped me get in the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt. “Second, we tried to summon Bloody Mary in your bathroom mirror, not while on a bridge.” I heard the car engine turn on. “Third, we were trying to summon emotional clarity, which frankly is much harder and requires railings.”
The car ride was brief, but in blindfold time it lasted forever. I tried to keep up, but it was hard not knowing if we were barreling down the interstate or just circling the block for dramatic effect. After several turns I asked, “you’re not taking me to a strip club are you?” She laughed “Girl, you think I’m the strip club type?” I didn’t know if she could see my grin since I was still blindfolded. “You’d totally go to a male strip club and have fun getting poked while getting wasted.”
I heard the grin in Zoe’s voice “You’re not wrong. But you don’t like men, so that’s out. And Hannah would murder me if I took you to get a lap dance by a girl named Cindy who dots her i’s in the shape of a heart.” She paused and her voice turned serious, “Wen, you deserve better than something that would be borderline cheating on the woman you love. You deserve something with class.” For a moment I didn’t know what to say. Then I managed to find my voice, “Z, you’re amazing. Thank you.”
When the car stopped, I felt her hand on mine again, leading me gently out of the seat. She guided me up a walkway, her voice suddenly lowering to a conspiratorial hush. “Okay, when I take off the blindfold, promise not to scream.” I smirked behind the mask. “I’m not going to scream, you psycho.” I felt her fingers on the back of my head, untying the knot, and then, with a sudden whoosh, the world flooded in.
We were standing in front of a building so nice I thought for a second I had hallucinated it. Two glass doors flanked by potted olive trees, brass handles gleaming, and a large sign: “Satori Wellness Spa.” Inside, warm light spilled out over polished marble, and I caught the scent of eucalyptus and lavender before we even walked in. The lobby was all wood and gold and plush, with a kind of serene glow that felt like the world’s fanciest womb. “Holy shit,” I breathed, unable to stop the words. “Zoe, are you serious?”
She grinned and did a deep, exaggerated bow. “You are cordially invited to the Satori ‘Forget Your Family Drama’ spa package, created exclusively for traumatized brides-to-be and their neurotic best friends.” She struck a Wonder Woman pose “I know, I’m a goddess.” I hugged her, hard. Not a casual, we-see-each-other-all-the-time hug, but one of those full body, thank-you-for-being-on-my-team hugs. She let it linger. “Don’t get all sappy yet, Travers. Save some tears for the cucumber facial.”
A spa attendant in a sage green jumpsuit floated over with two tall champagne flutes. “Ms. Travers? Ms. Morgan? Welcome. We have your suite ready, and your treatments will begin in about ten minutes.” I took the glass, my hand trembling a little. The attendant’s voice was like a warm, soft pillow, and she smiled with perfect teeth. “If you have any allergies or special requests, please let me know. Otherwise, just relax and enjoy. You’re in good hands.”
The waiting area had plush couches, minimalist art, and a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with glossy green plants. Soft, wordless music played overhead, and I realized I was breathing deeper already. I looked at Zoe, who was already reclining, legs crossed, a smirk playing at her lips. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” I said, voice thin. She shrugged. “You deserve at least one day of zero wedding stress before you become Mrs. Thompson. Also, I wanted to see if your pores could actually get any smaller.” I laughed, the sound bouncing off the marble walls, and for the first time in weeks, my nerves stopped buzzing. Tomorrow, I was going to marry the love of my life. But today, I was going to be pampered into oblivion with the person who knew every possible version of me.
“Zoe?” She looked up, all mock innocence. “I love you,” I said, maybe a little too loudly. She lifted her glass, eyes shining with mischief and something softer underneath. “Back at you, babe.” We clinked glasses, and I had a feeling that, for once, everything was going to be okay.
The first stop on Zoe’s spa itinerary was the “dual harmony massage,” which, according to the menu, would align our chakras, improve circulation, and “promote emotional release.” Zoe snorted at that last one, “They have no idea what emotional release means for someone like you.” She then stripped off her clothes without ceremony. I grinned “It meant a lot to me during our experimental phase.” Zoe rolled her eyes as I stripped “That was a horrible time,” she deadpanned, “I learned more about sex than when my parents gave me the sex talk.” I snickered, “Yeah, like how you're aggressively straight.” Zoe laughed, “and you’re definitely not.”
The massage room was painted in a shade of blue that made my eyelids droop just looking at it. There were two identical tables, side by side, separated by about a foot and nothing else. A very soft, instrumental song played overhead. The air smelled faintly of sage and something sweet, almost like Froot Loops, but fancier. Zoe plopped onto the table. “This is my final form, Wen. Naked and horizontal, ready to be worshipped.” I laughed, crawled up onto my own table, and tried to lie still. My arms were by my sides like a particularly nervous mummy.
The two massage therapists entered with a gentle knock. They introduced themselves in voices so soothing I immediately forgot their names. For a while, there was just the soft scrape of hands against oil, the kind of tactile attention that made me want to melt through the table and into the earth itself. All the tension in my body felt like water dripping down to the floor.
After the massage, there was an interlude in a darkened room with lemon water and little bowls of dried fruit. Zoe flopped into a chaise lounge beside me, blonde hair wild, eyes bright. “Can you believe we’re here?” she said. “Last time we hung out for a whole day, we spent it at the mall and almost got arrested.” I raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that flashed your boobs to Santa’s elf not me.” Zoe snickered, “Only because you chickened out at the last second.” I grinned, “It’s not chickening out if you never planned on doing it in the first place.” Her eyebrows shot up, “I knew it! I knew you were pranking me.” She grinned, “I at least got you back with the pool incident.” I rolled my eyes, “Figures that was you.”
The conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, the kind of quiet that only exists between people who have spent half their lives together. After a while, Zoe said, “Look at you now, you’ve grown up so fast,” she faked wiping a tear away from her eye. I rolled my eyes at her and she continued. “You’re, about to marry the hottest girl on the planet. I mean, her initials are literally H-O-T. It doesn’t get any sexier than that.” I laughed, “Unless you count my initials. W-E-T, which means that together we’re…” we both said the next part at the same time “HOT and WET” then erupted into giggles. “Seriously though,” Zoe’s voice switched tones. “Hannah’s an easy ten, and you’re a strong eight, maybe a nine with makeup. I tried to think of a clever comeback, but then realized it would cheapen her serious compliment, “Thanks, Z. That means a lot.”
The spa attendant came back to guide us to our next treatment, facials. They had us lie side by side in a softly lit room that smelled like cucumber and honeydew. As soon as the mask hit my skin, a thick, cool clay, I forgot all about my worries. The facial passed by in companionable silence, broken only by the esthetician gently peeling the mask from my face and telling me my skin was “radiant.” Zoe leaned over, face shining pink and raw. “We look like newborns,” she whispered. “Wrinkly and confused?” I joked. She laughed, delighted.
When we were done, we were shown to a steam room, which was more luxurious than anything I’d ever seen in real life. Zoe sprawled on a bench, arms wide and legs splayed, like she was claiming territory. I sat beside her and let the heat soak into my bones. Sweat pooled at the base of my neck and trickled between my breasts.
Zoe eventually broke the silence. “You’re weirdly quiet. What’s up?” I hesitated. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?” She smirked, “Have I ever made fun of you for being vulnerable?” I shot her a look that made her laugh, “Okay, yes, but not in a way that wasn’t also supportive. Spill.” I sighed, “I keep having these dreams, Z. Nightmares. My mom stands up at the ceremony, and she objects. Out loud, in front of everyone.”
Zoe’s expression went from soft to sharp, like a blade sliding free from its sheath. “That’s not going to happen,” she said, voice low. “But if it does, I will personally launch her out of the venue like a cartoon villain.” I laughed, but it dissolved quickly. “I’m serious. I’m so scared it’ll happen. Or that she’ll do something even worse. And I won’t know how to deal with it. I want tomorrow to be perfect for Hannah. She’s worked so hard for this.”
Zoe’s tone softened. “They’re idiots, Wen. And not even creative about it. You’re marrying someone incredible and you have a found family that would burn down a city for you. Not everyone gets that.” Her words were true. My future mother-in-law tore into my parents when, just before Hannah woke up from her injuries, they insisted I “spend time away from my friend and with them.” There was no doubt in my mind that Diane would burn down a city for me. Zoe would too, or at least she would egg someone’s house.
I sighed, “I just wish my parents loved me for me and didn’t have to make this hard.” Zoe turned on the bench, facing me head on. She took both my hands in hers, the grip warm and certain. “Listen to me,” she said. “Your mother is a bitter, repressed old crone with the emotional intelligence of a rock. She does not get to ruin this for you.” I started to protest, “But what if…” She squeezed my hands so hard my knuckles creaked. “I’ve got a plan. Security will be watching for her. Aisha and I will be ready to intercept any shenanigans. If she so much as blinks out of line, she’s gone. I’ll tackle her myself if I have to.”
The image of Zoe tackling my mother right at the altar was so absurd I started laughing again, this time with real, gut deep relief. “God, you’re insane,” I said. Zoe grinned, cocky and fierce. “It’s a gift. Also, I read somewhere that if you wear waterproof mascara, you can cry all you want and still look like you’re starring in a perfume commercial.” That completely random joke broke the tension for good. I was giggling so hard I nearly slipped off the bench, towel and all. The heat pressed in around us, and for the first time, I felt like I could breathe easy, like maybe, just maybe, tomorrow was going to be the beginning of something good instead of the end of something safe.
Zoe leaned her head back, her voice soft. “I’m proud of you, Wen. Not for getting married, though Hannah is a stone cold fox, but for finally letting yourself want something good.” My heart squeezed a little at that, but in a nice way. “I’m proud of you, too. For being the best friend anyone ever had, and for inventing the phrase ‘de-sadification.’” We lapsed into silence for a few moments, then I asked. “How do you do it? Just shrug it off when people are assholes?” She snorted. “I don’t. I just don’t let them see it.” A pause, then, “I think you’re stronger than you think. You always have been.”
We lapsed into silence. Zoe fidgeted with her spa robe, then checked her phone, then immediately looked guilty. “You can look,” I said. “I’m not offended.” She held up her phone. “Actually, this is for you. Hannah texted the group chat.” She read aloud: “Heading to brunch with parents and Aisha. Wen, don’t let Zoe pierce your ears again.” She snickered. “She knows us so well.” I took the phone from her, scrolled through the rest. There was a detailed timeline from Hannah about where she would be and when: brunch, a walk around the lake, maybe a stop for ice cream if her parents didn’t combust from the sugar. I grinned at the way she’d blocked out every hour, color coded. Only Hannah could make a day with her parents sound like a tactical operation.
I texted her: Wen here, still alive. Zoe keeps trying to get me naked in public spaces but so far resisting. Love you.] A minute later: Love you too. Stay hydrated. Will check in before bed. I handed the phone back to Zoe. “She’s so organized it’s intimidating.” Zoe nodded, “Yeah, but she’s your kind of organized. That’s why it works,” Zoe smiled. “You keep each other upright.”
We steamed until we were light headed, then wrapped up in towels and went back to the changing room. As I pulled on my street clothes, I felt a weird, lightheaded kind of gratitude. For the first time in ages, my skin felt soft and new, and my heart wasn’t screaming with panic. I glanced at Zoe and smiled. “Thanks for today,” I said. “I needed it more than I realized.” She winked, “I said you deserved class and I seriously meant it.” As we walked back to the car, I let myself relax into the moment, Zoe’s hand slung casually over my shoulder. There was still fear about tomorrow, but less than before. I could do this. We could do this.
***
Zoe gave me back my phone when we arrived at her apartment, and her apartment was pure Zoe. There were at least five cups on the windowsill, a stack of legal pads on the table, and a velvet painting of a cat wearing sunglasses above the TV. The air smelled of cinnamon and old incense, plus the faintest hint of weed. It was instantly comforting, a place I’d crashed a dozen times over the years, and yet it made me miss Hannah more than ever. I carried my bag into her spare room and opened the closet door. My wedding dress hung inside and I spent a few minutes just staring at it. I ran my fingers over the lace bodice, feeling the little beads catch under my skin. Zoe poked her head in. “You want dinner? I’ve got frozen pizza.” “Yum,” I said absently.
She joined me in the guest room and gave me a soft hug. “You okay?” I nodded, then shrugged. “It’s just weird being apart from her tonight.” Zoe nodded, “It’s tradition, right? The last night of freedom?” I made a face. “I think it’s supposed to be about not seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding. But sure, let’s call it freedom.” She studied me for a second. “You know you can back out if you want. Or change the plan. We could throw the biggest party this side of the Mississippi. No one’s making you do the whole ‘wedding machine’ thing.” I thought about it, then shook my head. “That kind of chaos would be too much for Hannah.” Zoe grinned, then said, “Good choice, you’d break Hannah’s heart, and I like her a lot more than you.” She threw a pillow at me, which I caught one handed. “Liar,” I said, but I was smiling.
We ate pizza in the living room, binge watching a game show and making catty comments about the contestants. For an hour, I didn’t think about the wedding, or my parents, or anything else but the taste of greasy cheese and the warmth of being with someone who’d seen me at every stage of disaster. But as midnight crept closer, my stomach started to knot again. Zoe noticed immediately. “Nerves?” I nodded. “You should call her,” she said, not even pretending to hide her approval.
I grabbed my phone and went back to the guest room, curling up under a blanket Zoe’s grandmother had made. It only took two rings before Hannah picked up. “Hey, beautiful,” she whispered, like it was a secret meant only for us. “I miss you already,” I admitted. It came out a little raw, and I didn’t try to fix it.
She laughed, soft and low. “It’s only been a day, Wen. Are you going to survive the night?” “I make no promises,” I said. There was a pause, and I could hear the muted sounds of a TV in the background. “Tomorrow,” Hannah said, “we’re going to get through this. No matter what your mom does, or anyone else, we’re getting married. You and me. That’s all I care about.” “Yeah?” My voice was tinier than I wanted it to be. “Yeah,” she said. “And listen, if your parents object, we’ll just outlast them. Or Zoe will drag them out by the ears, which honestly I kind of hope happens.”
I snorted, half laughing, half sobbing, and asked. “You’re not scared?” “I’m terrified,” she said, “but I’m even more excited. I keep thinking about seeing you in your dress. That’s the only thing that matters to me.” We fell into a quiet, both of us listening to each other breathe. “I don’t want to mess it up,” I said, finally. “I want it to be perfect for you.” “It already is,” Hannah replied, with that bedrock certainty I had fallen in love with. “Because it’s us. If it rains, we’ll dance in it. If the flowers wilt, we’ll carry weeds. If the world catches fire, we’ll marry in the ashes. Okay?” I laughed. “Okay.” “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you too,” I said, my whole body aching with it.
After the call, I just lay there in the dark, listening to the city noises through the thin window. I traced my ring finger, feeling the ghost of the band that would be there tomorrow. There was still a part of me that couldn’t believe it was real, that I was allowed this happiness. In the morning, everything would change. But for tonight, I was suspended between the past and the future, held in place by the promise of tomorrow. I closed my eyes and counted each slow heartbeat, every breath a step closer to forever. Tomorrow I become Mrs. Thompson. And I’d never been more sure of anything in my life.
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Chapter Tags: No sex, story
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Chapter 5 - The Morning Of
I woke with a momentary jolt of panic, the room wrong around me. Then remembered it was Valentine’s Day and the day of my wedding, and felt a much different kind of feeling. The memory of the day before, spa, game shows, and pizza, settled over me. In a handful of hours, I would be getting married. To Hannah. My heart flip flopped with excitement, the way it used to when I was a kid and we had planned to take a trip to the amusement park.
For a minute, I just lay there, letting the unfamiliar quiet lap at my ears. I was used to Hannah’s soft breathing next to me and felt her absence. But I would see her soon, and I was already counting the hours and minutes down. I rolled over and checked my phone. Three new texts from Hannah:
Remember to drink water this morning. You’ll thank me later.
Please do not let Zoe spike your breakfast with vodka.
I love you.
I grinned and typed back: I love you too. I’m awake and already nervous. Did you sleep?
A reply came through less than a minute later: I made an itinerary for today. Only had to reprint it twice.
That made me laugh and my heart tingle. I could picture Hannah hunched over her printer at dawn, carefully slotting the pages into her wedding binder then dashing from one room to the next checking things off her list. It made me want to see her right now, even if it meant violating every tradition about the bride seeing her bride before the ceremony.
A soft knock at the door made me jump. “Wendy? You up, or did you die in your sleep from emotional exhaustion?” Zoe’s voice, slightly muffled but still dripping with mischief. “I’m alive,” I called, and sat up just as she eased the door open with her hip. Zoe balanced a breakfast tray in one hand, her phone in the other, and wore a cartoonish pink sleep mask pushed up like a headband.
“Good,” she said, “because it would be a shame if these pancakes went to waste.” She set the tray on the edge of the bed and performed a tiny flourish, like a magician revealing a live dove. The pancakes were stacked high, the top one studded with blueberries that bled purple into the syrup. Next to the plate was a mug of coffee, steam curling up in gentle puffs, and a tiny glass of orange juice. There was even a cloth napkin, folded into an origami swan.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” I joked. Zoe smirked, “I don’t have the energy to compete with Hannah.” Her tone turned serious. “This is your wedding day, Wen. You get the princess treatment, nothing less.” I picked up a fork and took a bite. The pancakes were warm and pillowy, and the maple syrup was the real kind, not the fake stuff easily found in every grocery store.
“Holy shit,” I said, “you remembered.” When we were kids, my parents splurged on the good syrup only once, when both of our families vacationed together in Vermont. We were seven and I insisted the syrup tasted like trees and magic. Zoe shrugged. “You’re about to marry a woman who alphabetizes her Tupperware. The least I can do is remember what you like for breakfast.” I kept eating, trying to pace myself so I didn’t wolf it down in one go. The food helped settle my stomach, or at least gave the nerves something to bounce against.
“You ready for the big day?” Zoe asked, perching on the edge of the bed with her knees tucked up to her chest. She wore a fuzzy green bathrobe and socks that didn’t match. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, and she looked exactly like the best friend a person could hope for. I swallowed, considered the question. “I don’t know. Is it possible to be terrified and ecstatic at the same time?” Zoe nodded, “That’s called being alive.” We both laughed, the sound filling up the small room. The sunlight shifted, crawling higher up the wall, and for a few minutes, it was just the two of us and the gentle click of utensils against ceramic.
Once I’d demolished most of the pancakes, Zoe gave me a smile and said “Oh, almost forgot. I come bearing gifts.” She hopped up and disappeared into the other room, then came back with a box a little bigger than her hand. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” I blinked “Wait, we’re doing that tradition?” She nodded and said, “Hannah wanted you to be surprised. She said, and I quote ‘I’m giving Wen my whole and complete heart and doing everything physically possible to show her I love her totally and completely.’” My breath caught in my throat and I felt my heart flutter.
Zoe pulled the first item out of the box and said, “Something old is a pearl necklace.” I gasped, “her grandmother’s necklace.” Zoe nodded and replied, “It’s your necklace now.” I blinked and felt touched, “Wow,” I whispered. “Something new,” Zoe continued with a grin, “is a gift from me to you. Pearl earrings.” She pulled them from the box and displayed them like a Price Is Right model. I felt my eyes start to water with tears, but I managed to keep myself from crying. “Wow,” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Zoe’s grin widened, “Something borrowed,” she pulled the item out of the box. Her gold friendship bracelet that had my name on it. My mouth was open in shock and gratitude. “I’ll take your lack of words as ‘thank you,’” she teased. “And last but not least, something blue.” Her voice had a weight to it, a kind of seriousness that was rare for her. She pulled out a single blue pen. I recognized it immediately as Hannah’s favorite kind of gel pen, the one she used for all her checklists and wedding notes. I’d seen her go through at least a dozen of these in the last year, but this one looked brand new.
“Oh…my…” for an instant I forgot to breathe. Zoe continued in her serious tone, “She gave it to me last night. Said you’d know what it meant. She wanted you to have it with you today. Said it’s the most important thing she owns, except you.” That was it. I burst into tears, the kind that sneak up on you and refuse to stop even when you try to laugh them off. Zoe patted my back and waited it out, letting me leak emotions all over her.
When I finally managed to breathe, I looked up at her. “I’m getting married, Z. To someone who totally and truly loves me with every fiber of her being.” She grinned. “I know. It’s disgusting how happy you two are.” I laughed, the sound watery but real, and clutched the pen like it was a lifeline. “She’s probably already on her fourth list for today.” Zoe snorted. “And you’re probably on your fifth emotional crisis.” She stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Let’s get you showered and dressed before you have a sixth one.” I wiped my eyes and took a last sip of coffee. “Thanks, Zoe. For everything.”
She gave me a look, a half smile, half squint. “Don’t thank me yet. The day’s just getting started.” She left the room, humming the wedding march, and I lay back for a second, letting the moment settle into my bones. Sunlight, pancakes, and a whole lifetime opening up ahead of me. For the first time, I didn’t feel scared. I felt ready.
The drive to the venue was a blur of shifting sunlight and half-finished sentences. Zoe was in her element behind the wheel, one hand drumming on the steering wheel, the other gesturing wildly as she narrated every passing landmark. “Ready for the most important entrance of your life?” she asked as she signaled left. “Because we’re going to be fashionably on time. Not a minute early, not a minute late. Just like the lesbians of history intended.”
I smiled, but my throat was dry. My heart ricocheted between dread and delight. “You really think anyone but us notices this stuff?” Zoe glanced over, eyes sharp, then a little too soft. “Doesn’t matter if they do. It’s your day, babe. We’ll bulldoze our way through the rest.” There was a pause then she said, “You know Hannah put in a lot of work for this. Most people pay for that kind of thing.” I could tell she was trying to help me settle my nerves, but it didn’t quite work. I let out a laugh anyway.
We pulled into the lot of the venue, a restored historic mansion with a face lift so dramatic it belonged on a reality show. Columns, arches, and a set of stairs were wide enough to accommodate a synchronized swim team. The windows were massive and everything outside looked airbrushed. Even the parking lot lines were perfect.
I saw my parents’ car in a parking spot and felt my stomach sink a little. Zoe noticed it too. “Want me to key the car? I can do it real casual.” I shook my head, “Please don’t make things worse.” Her voice turned serious, “I’m going to find them and talk to them while you’re getting ready.” The way she said it relieved me a little. My parents respected Zoe and she was the best person to talk them out of misbehaving. Zoe looked at me and said, “Hey, it’s going to be ok. Better than ok, you’re going to go inside, and you’re going to marry the absolute shit out of Hannah, and your parents are just going to have to live with the fact that their daughter is a stunning goddess.” I managed a weak laugh. “Thank you again, for everything.” Zoe grinned, “Don’t sweat it babe.”
We slipped out of the car and Zoe kept a hand on my elbow as we skirted around to the back entrance. The air outside was shockingly cold. My breath came out in foggy whisps and I shivered. Inside the back door, the venue coordinator waited for us. Her nametag read RENEE in cheerful gold script. She wore a navy blazer and slacks so pressed they looked like they could cut glass. “Ms. Travers? Ms. Morgan?” she asked, glancing between us. “So glad you’re here. Hannah and her party arrived just a few minutes ago.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Is…uh…everything set up?” I felt like an idiot for asking, but the need to say something, anything, was overpowering. Renee beamed. “Everything’s perfect. The florist is putting the finishing touches on the arch, and the caterer is already prepping hors d’oeuvres. Would you like to see your dressing suite?” I nodded and said, “Yes please.” We followed Renee down a carpeted hallway, Zoe never let go of my arm.
The dressing room was bigger than my entire childhood bedroom. Floor-length mirrors along one wall, a row of velvet chairs along another. There was a faint, comforting smell of roses and clean linen. The centerpiece was a garment stand where my dress hung, light as a feather, surrounded by soft bouquets of white roses and blue delphinium. The sight of it made my breath catch. Zoe released my elbow, circling the room in awe. “Holy hell, Wen. You look at this place and tell me you’re not the queen.”
I turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. There was a vanity with a ring light, a tray of finger sandwiches, even a little bottle of champagne on ice. For a second, I forgot about my parents, their car, the existential dread waiting in the foyer. Renee excused herself, promising to check in on us every half hour. Once she was gone, Zoe walked over and gently rested her chin on my shoulder.
“It’s good, right?” she whispered, as if afraid to break the spell. “It’s perfect,” I said, and meant it. Zoe grabbed a sandwich and said, “I’ll be right back, going to find your parents before I get ready.” I nodded, “Thank you,” I repeated, “you’re the best friend a girl could ever have.” She winked and left the room leaving me alone with my thoughts. Just a little longer and Hannah and I would be together at the end of the aisle. I took a breath, long and deep, and felt almost ready.
It was almost embarrassing how quickly time evaporated once the stylists showed up. At 10:01 sharp, my hair and makeup artist, a woman named Sharon, who wore all black and spoke in soothing, low tones, took command of the dressing room. She lined up her brushes and palettes with Hannah like precision, then eased me into the vanity chair and started poking at my scalp like she was checking for ticks. “We’ll do a loose, romantic updo,” she murmured, spinning my hair into careful knots. “With a few soft pieces framing your face. Very in right now.” Sharon had hands that never hesitated. She twisted, pinned, and sprayed with such efficiency that I barely noticed the tickle of nerves in my gut.
Zoe returned while Sharon was doing my hair and slipped into her dress. Her blue dress was a sheath that managed to be both tailored and somehow still a little wild, like someone had made it for a superhero’s less uptight civilian identity. It hit her just above the knees, and the sleeves were three quarter length, which made her forearms look strong and tan.
Then, it was my turn to get dressed and Zoe’s turn for hair styling. I put on the dress, careful not to snag the lace. The lining was soft, cool against my body, and the skirt settled around my hips with a perfect, weighted swish. Sharon zipped me up, then fluffed the skirt until every pleat and ruffle was exactly where it should be. Sharon tamed Zoe’s blonde hair into a loose French braid that trailed down one shoulder. Sharon stepped back to survey her handiwork. “You both look beautiful,” she said simply.
I turned to the mirror. For a moment, I didn’t recognize myself. The girl staring back in the mirror had smooth skin, artfully smudged eyes, and a hint of rose on her cheeks. Her hair was soft and pinned just so. She was wearing a flowing cream dress with delicate lace details. The dress was everything I’d ever wanted without knowing I wanted it. I looked…complete.
Zoe remarked, “Damn we clean up good. Don’t be surprised if I make out with myself before the night is through.” I laughed, this joke actually helping with settling my nerves. Renee came in with the veil, a wisp of tulle edged with more lace. Sharon arranged it behind the updo and secured it with a handful of pins. The effect was subtle, more suggestion than statement, and I loved it.
My phone buzzed with a message from Hannah. It was a photo of her hand, holding a bouquet of sunflowers with the blue pen clipped to her wrist corsage. I let out another laugh. “She’s impossible,” I said, showing the picture to Zoe. “Impossible, but also perfect,” Zoe agreed. We spent the next ten minutes taking selfies, doing spins for the full length mirror, and practicing walking. The nerves were still there, but I felt excited, not scared.
At exactly 11:40, the photographer arrived. She was a tall, bubbly woman named Emily, who somehow made the entire ordeal feel like a party instead of a wedding shoot. She snapped a few pictures of me and Zoe, then some solo ones of me by the window, the sunlight catching in the layers of my dress. After the last shot, Emily lowered her camera and smiled. “You’re glowing,” she said, and my heart felt warm.
The next knock at the door was the real deal. Renee announced five minute warning. “They’re seating the guests,” she said. “We’ll start lining up the procession in just a moment.” Zoe squeezed my hand and whispered, “You’re going to kill it out there, Wen.”
I stood for a moment in the center of the room, letting the finality of the moment wash over me. The years of feeling like an outsider, of never quite fitting the family mold, the months of stress and planning, all condensed into this defining moment. I took a deep breath, steadied my nerves, and walked toward the door.
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A few more chapters and we'll get to the part we all want, wedding night sex. I've planted a few seeds for future stories already, and there are a couple more seeds to plant. Bear with me!
That's why the last chapters didn't get 3 points from me.
Otherwise it's going great, the interaction between Wendy and Zoe, Wendy's narration -- just somethign to read and admire. Waiting for the next chapter to come... well, perhaps not the very next one!
Will we see them not talking something through again, perhaps?
