an: all the freelancers live, get drunk, and have a shitty wedding and pancakes.
South leans her head back against the door of the changing room of the super store they’ve managed to stumble their way into at 3:24am despite the odd looks they’re getting from security guards. She can already feel the drunken night settling in and she holds in a burp before banging her fist on the door.
"Carolina c’mon it’s a fucking dress not your armour."
"It’s really hard when I’m kinda drunk and these shoes don’t fit."
Still, the door opens and Carolina emerges in the white dress and South shoves a bouquet of fake orange and yellow spotted lilies.
"He’ll think you’re hot, let’s fucking go get your ass married."
i wanted to read about cuddly kisses with york and carolina and wound up writing them instead
don’t look at me