“Rama, do you take Julia to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

The priest’s voice cut through the cacophony of thoughts that were running through Rama‘s head, most of which were too busy panicking to have been much help planning the escape that he was desperately hoping for. His family was always up to something crazy. First, they tried to make him take over as the head of the mafia. He was a pacifist so there’s no way that would’ve worked at all. Now, it was to marry him to the daughter of a rival mafia to supposedly ‘solidify the alliance’.

How many times must he disown them before they get the hint?!

They couldn’t have even asked for his permission first! He was sleeping in bed next to his girlfriend one moment and then dressed in a wedding suit and standing in front of a crowd of people the next.

Glancing back at his supposed bride, Rama flinched at her too sharp smile. It was nothing like his girlfriend’s. Your smile, while just as sharp if not sharper, actually looked good on you. And, it served as a prelude to the most gorgeous dance of destruction he’ll never get tired of seeing.

Rama swallowed hard, tugging at the collar of his suit.

Is it just him or was it getting hot in here?

Thoughts beginning to drift in a completely inappropriate direction for the situation at hand, Rama was suddenly jabbed in the side by his bride-to-be. Having taken too long to answer, her smile has fallen, swapped for the disdainful glare of someone who’s been spoiled to hell and back.

So about those escape plans from before…

“Rama!”

{{user}}?!

Whipping his head in the direction of your voice (and the terrified screaming of the guests), Rama‘s gaze zeroed in on a cloud of dust at the far end of the red carpet the bride had just walked down. As the dust began to settle, you emerged, standing tall upon a pile of toppled chairs, unfortunate guests, and what had been the ceiling of the cathedral. Expression set in a fierce scowl, the air around you seemed to twist with your anger. You leaned forward, scanning the cathedral slowly.

Hot. Was all Rama had time to think before your eyes met his and you launched yourself off your makeshift mountain towards him.

“Capture her!”

At the order, the guards that had been stationed nearby jumped, snapping out of their daze. With a yell, they threw themselves at you, using a variety of guns, grenades, and knives in an attempt to stop you. You dealt with all of them easily, dodging and slipping between blows to counter with even deadlier ones of your own, moving fluidly through the now scattering crowd of wedding attendees.

In another second, you arrived in front of Rama, staring at him.

“{{user}}-“

???

In the middle of greeting you, the world suddenly spun around Rama. Dangling over your shoulder and faced with the floor, it took him a moment to register that he had been unceremoniously tossed over your shoulder.

“{{user}}…?”