#fandomo

yay

Naturally your bridesmaids have either left or gotten too drunk to undo a shoelace, let alone the piles of flouncy knots and bows that are currently constricting your torso. You need your fellow newlywed's help and you need it fast. The decorative fountain you also paid too much for bubbles and hisses in the corner. You should have said something, but they looked so happy chatting and waltzing and knocking back almost as much champagne as you were stupid enough to sip alongside them. You didn't have the heart to interrupt and pull them away from the festivities. Especially for such a trivial matter as emptying your bladder. Only right now it isn't trivial. It's more like an enormous hot thudding sphere of trapped piss begging with all it's might to escape and run down your legs, soaking your pretty lingerie. You don't even know how it got this bad this fast. Then you cringe internally, remembering all the cold water you chugged in the dressing room to keep from fainting, since you were so overwhelmed by both the nerves and the heat of the spring. Perhaps it's not such a mystery.

You wriggle and shift in your seat, smile-grimacing as more champagne trickles into your guest's glasses. Your partner is looking at you with concern now. You give their hand a second, more forceful squeeze. The shoe drops as they glance down at your bridal train tangled up in your tightly crossed legs.

They gracefully excuse the pair of you and you weave through the dancing couples, their hand guiding yours. God, it's taking every bit of effort in you just to hold on tight long enough to reach the bathroom, and to not leave any droplets on the tiles. You pray to whoever's listening that the stalls aren't occupied. They can't be occupied. It's your wedding day.