Chapter 5: Marriage, Murder and Matching Tattoo Sleeves

Jahkiah woke up to the smell of blood, leather, and very expensive perfume.

“…Morning?” she mumbled, squinting at the throne room’s blazing hellfire chandeliers.

Sahara was perched on her desk—yes, the desk, not the throne—cross-legged, straddling her morning coffee like a goddess who owns time, space, and multiple hell dimensions.

“Good morning, little author,” Sahara purred, tail flicking with predatory grace. “Today, we cement our empire… and maybe our love.”

Jahkiah blinked. “…Cement? Like… wedding cement? Mafia cement? Soul cement?”

“All of it,” Sahara said, smirking, brushing a clawed finger along Jahkiah’s jaw. “We’re getting married. And also taking out my rivals. Wedding. Murder. Fashion. You’ll wear the dress; I’ll wear the leather. We’ll call it… chaos couture.”

Jahkiah shivered. “I think I’m hard… mentally.”

Sahara chuckled. “Mentally is good. You’ll need it.”

⸻

Cut to: The Wedding Planning War Room

Sahara’s mafia council was less than thrilled.

“Boss,” said a demon accountant with three heads and one existential crisis, “planning a wedding during a territorial expansion might be… unwise.”

Sahara glared. “Unwise is when someone insults my fanfic girl in public. Unwise is not marrying her.”

Jahkiah waved her strap-on (it glowed faintly like it knew something scandalous was about to happen). “Also, I’m here to help. I have Pinterest boards.”

“And I brought glitter,” a lesser demon piped up.

“Perfect. Glitter is mandatory.”

⸻

Later: Fitting the Chaos Couture

Jahkiah tried on the “wedding outfit” Sahara had prepared: a hot pink leather corset embroidered with demonic runes and flames. Matching thigh-high boots. A veil that doubled as a cape of literal destruction.

Sahara appeared beside her, in black leather embroidered with blood-red roses. She traced Jahkiah’s spine with her claws. “You look… lethal. Perfect. We’ll be the kind of couple that haunts Twitter for decades.”

Jahkiah gasped. “We’re… like, canon?”

“Canon, endgame, fanfiction verified,” Sahara said, leaning down to bite her shoulder gently. “You’re officially my little author… and my little wife.”

Jahkiah’s knees nearly buckled. “Mommy… I mean… babe… yes.”

⸻

The Rival Strike

No wedding in the demon mafia realm is complete without a threat.

Queen Vespera, still smarting from her defeat, crashed the rehearsal. Twin swords gleaming, eyes filled with betrayal.

Sahara twirled her strap-on like a demonic baton. “Vespera. Sweetheart. Step aside. Or—”

“Or I’ll ruin the wedding?” Jahkiah finished for her, brandishing her glitter dagger. “Nope. Not today, bitch.”

A whirlwind battle erupted. Glitter flew. Blood spattered. Strap-ons hummed. Swords clanged.

Somewhere between a pirouette and a kiss, Jahkiah tackled Vespera into a pile of confetti, dagger at her throat.

“You yield?” she asked.

“Fine! Fine!” Vespera panted. “But… you’re both… insufferable.”

“Insufferably in love,” Jahkiah corrected.

⸻

Finally: The Ceremony

The throne room was decorated with flames, roses, and LED signs reading: “Scissor Sisters 4 Life.”

Sahara took Jahkiah’s hand, claws brushing against soft skin. “Little author,” she whispered, “do you take me… as your lawfully wedded demon, alpha, mafia overlord, and eternal queen of your fanfic heart?”

Jahkiah grinned, tail flicking nervously. “I do. I promise to write, fight, and finger-blast with you… forever.”

Sahara leaned down, fangs grazing Jahkiah’s lip. “Good. Now kiss me before someone files a restraining order.”

They collided in a kiss that made the very air scream, seal their blood oath, and maybe, just maybe, cause the fabric of hell itself to blush.

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