It was only fair to let Marcus plan the honeymoon, no?

He had chosen a small, but flourishing, European town. The trip was simple. Quaint, even; a reflection of his personality, and desires. But knowing him? It was likely that it was some niche reference to a film from the 50s.

It wasn’t like you could complain, though. The view from the balcony was absolutely breathtaking, and the weather was pleasant around this time of year. It was especially nice around sunrise. That was when everything was silent, save for those few sweet nothings and delicate kisses you shared with Marcus.

”Can’t believe I finally get to call you my husband,” He murmured, his hands finding their way to the small of your back.

He needn’t say or do anything to prove it, those brown eyes of his already done so: he was utterly, and inexplicably, in love with you.