Oh, Ophelia | Tom Riddle

Month of happiness | Carl

Carl woke up the morning after his wedding night, Poppy lay naked in his arms. She truly was beautiful. He loved her. The warm feeling that accompanied her flooded him like a drug.

"My love," he whispered and she stirred,

"Must you be so loud in the mornings?" She asked, a smile warming her features.

"That was some wedding night,"

"The perfect end to the perfect wedding day," she said,

"I can't believe I married you," said Carl,

"Do you need to see the marriage certificate again?" She asked and he chuckled against the back of her neck before kissing it, and she rolled over to face him,

"Best day of my life." He said, and she put a hand on his face,

"Happy to be a part of it," she said,

Then she got out of bed and pulled on the first shirt she could find which happened to be one of his. He smiled at how it was too large for her.

"Your shirts are very comfortable," she said in her perfect American accent he'd grown to adore, "I've decided this ones mine now." She proclaimed and he chuckled as he watched her roll up the sleeves so they didn't cover her hands,

"You have have you?"

"Yes."

"What if I want that shirt?" He asked, "It is mine after all."

"I suppose you'll have to find a way to take it from me then, English." She said and he smiled at her flirting, and she left the room and he leant back into bed and thought about how perfect Poppy was for him.

He liked that she liked sex. It was a normal part of any relationship and as a red blooded male he quite enjoyed it.

She was into what he was into. In many ways. She liked to watch movies with him, they would sit together and just have marathons of his favourite movies.

She liked going dancing. She always made him feel like a good dancer.

She could cook which isn't the most important thing but was a definite plus. Her cookies could end wars. He was convinced of it. Hell her damn smile could end a war.

Her laugh was contagious, and her smile infectious. She was bright and quick witted, and she believed in him. She put the spotlight on him,

She would listen to what he wrote and give him suggestions. She would read out lines and tell him which ones felt natural and which didn't. Many of his new characters were based around her, or things she said.

He loved his life. Work as a writer for a major studio. Getting his movie produced. She would visit at lunch, and speak with Klara quite naturally. She ate with him too of course, but he rather liked how naturally she fit in with actors. And then every night from here on out he would come home to her.

He imagined them with kids. Big golden eyes and smiles on their faces.

She was resistant to the idea of children, but he knew she would just be the best mother. She was so loving.

"Blueberries?" Poppy called from the kitchen, "In your pancakes I mean,"

"Yes of course," he said,

My god did he love her

—

"Do we ever have to leave?" She asked as they lounged by the ocean on their honeymoon,

"Not for another week," said Carl, who rather appreciated the view of his wife in that bikini.

"Thank the gods for me, will you?" She asked,