"I'm your future wife." (Fuck it, I went for it)
Our muses are supposed to be married in an arranged marriage in two weeks. Send me “I’m your future husband/wife.” For my muses reaction to their first meeting and getting the news.
When Damian had opened the door of the penthouse to see a woman standing there, he assumed she was some insipid reporter. There had been an steady trickle of them coming ever since information of his engagement had leaked (which that alone had put him in a bad mood, so the media coverage only worsened it). His eyes narrowed in annoyance, and he opened his mouth to order her away—
"I’m your future wife." The words caught him off guard, and he stared at her. oh.