A/N: I'm adding all the prompts I've completed since last time 3 Feedback is always nice! And Happy New Year :D

tinuviel-undomiel said: "Denial has made me sad. Now I want something fluffy, maybe from Matched?"

A warm hand trails up my bare back, causing me to fidget. "What are you doing?" I mumble, sure that my voice sounds groggy. "Sleep, Rumford. Sleep." A chuckle is my answer, followed by two hands moving up my shoulder blades. "I'll smack you," I warn him, shifting away. "I'm not kidding… It's Saturday morning… Sleep." He tickles my neck, and that's when I shift further to my side—except, there is no more bed to move to. I squeal, and Rumford's arms are around me in a flash.

"I swear you are the clumsiest woman alive," he teases, trying to sound nonchalant as he pulls me back onto the sheets and settles us into a comfortable position. Though, I'm sure he's silently thinking he just dodged a bullet because of how tense he is. "Hopefully the baby will have my balance."

"Mmhmm," I sigh, snuggling into his chest. Absently, my hand soothes up and down his arm. "I'm sure he or she will." We've had a rough time this past week, and honestly, I'm too tired to discuss this right now. "Sleep, my love."

Rumford grunts in defeat and relaxes beneath me. But it's an afterthought that has me sitting up and smacking his chest. Below me, his dark eyes widen, and I watch as they trail down my body before resting on my swollen belly. "And don't you dare tickle me while I'm asleep, Rumford Gold. I'm already hormonal."

He nods, quickly. "You're quiet fearsome, sweetheart," he says, straight-faced.

I laugh, pillow my head on his shoulder, and fall asleep in his arms.

Khaleesibelle prompted: "Matched verse - telling their parents they are going to be grandparents"

"No need to be nervous," Rumford whispers, taking my fluttering hands in his to help me out of the passenger seat. "They'll be very happy." He gives me his most private smile and stoops to press a kiss to my lips. "Trust me."

"I know," I say, voice uneven. I do trust him. It's just…I'm incredibly nervous and slightly embarrassed we're telling the Golds about the baby so soon. It's stupid because there is nothing silly about being pregnant, especially when having children is such a natural part of marriage. And even though the Society only allows normal citizens the limit of two children, it stresses the importance of having a family. So the fact that Rumford and I are now expecting is nothing but expected.

It's been two days since we found out. In that time we've set about celebrating the news in the way we created it and, honestly, I think we would have stayed in bed the whole time if not for our jobs.

That's another thing. While Rumford works in the Society's High Hall under his father, I work as one of the librarians, archiving events. It sounds easy, but filing books under correct labels and constantly sifting through past archives can be stressful. Rumford wants me to quit the job because he makes more than enough money for the two of us (hell, we're filthy rich). But I've argued with him. What I do keeps me busy. Happy. And I won't stop until I am at least six months pregnant or cannot physically continue.

We've made rules, though. Under no circumstance am I to climb a ladder or overexert myself. Rumford doesn't trust me enough to handle ladders, especially after the unfortunate incident in our bedroom. He says I could injure myself and the baby, and he'll not let that happen.

"How're you feeling?" he wonders, smoothing back my hair.

I roll my eyes. "I won't break, honey. I think I'm stronger than that." While I won't make fun of him, I know I'll be annoyed by the end of the nine months. We're not even through the first trimester and he's already become extremely protective. Extremely careful. Even our lovemaking has grown gentler.

Rumford stares at me with his dark eyes. He looks happy, content, and I can't help but feel overwhelmed by his gaze, so I give him a hug and pillow my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around my waist then gives me a tender squeeze. "You are strong… I'm just not strong enough to lose you… Let's get inside. They're probably wondering what's taking us so long." He leads the way up Gold Manor's steps, keeping his hand in mine lest I stumble.

"You won't lose me," I say, even though I sense he wants the conversation to end. "I'm pregnant, not sick." He doesn't answer, and I don't know if it's the pregnancy hormones or just normal anger, but I step in front of him. He stops, immediately placing his other hand at my back to keep me steady. "Please…you don't have to worry. You'll stress me out and that's not good for the baby."

The hand at my back tightens, yet Rumford's expression turns soft. "Okay," he murmurs, taking in a deep breath and then sighing. He'll be anxious no matter what I do or say, but his effort is nice to see nevertheless. At my smile, he stoops to give me another swift kiss. "Let's go inside

"Okay." I reach out to open one of the doors but Rumford beats me to it. He swings one wide, always the gentleman, and allows me to pass over the threshold. When he closes the door behind me, he reclaims my hand once more. Mr. and Mrs. Gold are nowhere in sight, though Rumford did say they would be in a short meeting. "I'm nervous," I admit, looking around. The Manor is as beautiful as always. But despite the past comfort I've felt within its walls, now I only feel agitation…apprehension.

Rumford pauses mid-step and tugs me to a halt. He frowns, eyes full of intensity. "Why?"

"I—I don't know," I stutter. "I've never done this before, and it's embarrassing?" Christ, I hate it when his dark eyes stare at me like that. I can hardly think straight when they do.

The frown deepens. "Embarrassing?"

Of course he has no clue. "We've only been married for four and a half months," I say sheepishly, unable to hold his gaze. And I'm probably around two months along… What will his parents think? What will my parents think? I'm expecting Rumford to be upset at my words, so I definitely don't expect the laughter that meets my statement. "What?" I ask, defensive. My eyes flash back to him. He's grinning.

He looks around to make sure we're alone, and then leans forward so he's whispering in my ear. "Well, sweetheart, I heard no objections from you," he purrs, voice warm. "In fact, I would say you rather…urged me on." He pulls back, and the grin turns into a smirk when he sees my fierce blush.

"You're hilarious," I manage, though it sounds more like a choke. Rumford snickers, trying to grab at me when I turn on my heel and stalk away. "Maybe I'll make you sleep in the guest room, then," I add over my shoulder. He makes a strangled noise. Good. If he makes fun of our sex life again, I'll make good on my threat.

"Belle," he calls after me. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I retort. "I don't appreciate being made fun of."

His hand closes around my wrist. When I twist to smack him, he blocks my free hand. And all of a sudden I'm pulled into a warm hug. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Rumford reassures into my curls. "Or make fun of you. If you're worried about what my parents will think, I was born within their first year of marriage. They will be happy for us. So please don't worry about them, okay?" He strokes my back. "Stress isn't good for you or the baby, remember?"

Now it's my turn to sigh and take a deep breath. "Yeah…"

The sound of doors opening down the hall brings us apart. I look over Rumford's shoulder to see important men and women exit out of the library, where the Gold's must have held their meeting. Snow's father is among them, as well as George King, James' and David's father. Speak of the devil…James is with them too.

An unpleasant shiver shoots down my spine.

I hate James. If I've ever hated anyone, it's a tie between Cora and him. They're both foul and mean; they care not for others—only for themselves and their Matches. The Society is like a strategic game for them, one they want to come out winning. Forget about the lives of the Society's citizens. Forget about people in general. They took what they wanted and destroyed the lives of those around them. They were the worst.

"God not him." My words come out as a hiss. Because James has spotted us and is headed our way. The sneer he wears only feeds my hate for him. "Just leave. Please just leave." Why couldn't he be like David?

"I'll handle him," Rumford says quietly so that only I can hear him. He leads us forward to meet James half-way.

James is all swagger: the complete opposite of his twin brother. "Hello…Belle, Rumford," he mutters, and if I'm not mistaken, he's making fun of us. He's about to continue, but Rumford interrupts him:

"Hello, James. Excuse us—we have important business to discuss with my parents." And before James can respond, Rumford guides me around him, and we head toward the library's doors, where Mr. and Mrs. Gold are standing, seeing off their guests.

It's downright rude. Yet I'm utterly grateful for Rumford's intimidating presence. He has a way about him that spells danger. Power. And that power gives him the ability to get away with being rude to James.

"Thank you." I sound so relieved.

Rumford squeezes my hand. "He's an irritating bastard."

We come upon the Golds right as they say goodbye to Mr. King. When Mr. King realizes that his son is down the hall, he reprimands him for wasting his 'precious' time. I have to bite back a smile—though not for long because Mrs. Gold drags me in for a tight embrace. "How are you, Belle?" she asks gently.

"Perfect." Despite being pregnant, I feel fine. No morning sickness. Not yet anyway… "And you?"

"Well," she says, guiding me into the library before Mr. Gold can give me a welcoming hug. He and Rumford share a few quick, quiet words before following after us. They close the library doors behind them. "How is the house coming along?"

"We're working hard on it," I tell her. These past few months, Rumford and I have loved shaping our house into our own place, our own home. It's been wonderful.

All of us take a seat, and Rumford sits right by my side. He takes one of my jittery hands in his and rubs soothingly along the back of it. Clearly he can see the signs of my growing panic. And now that we're sitting down, that panic becomes all too real and overpowering. This is nothing I've ever done before, and even though Rumford says he's sure his parents will be happy, I'm not quite so sure about mine. And their next.

We chat about recent news—about the growing tension between the Society and another enemy empire growing overseas. There is talk of war, and the Golds warn their son that war is possible. The Society is going to take action against the empire if negotiations can't be made. All of it is very frightening, and I feel like I have been living in a bubble these past few months, wrapped up in Rumford's sheltering arms. Because I'm sure he's sheltered me from this, for I had no clue how bad things were becoming.

For his part, Rumford takes the news well. It seems he's known about this growing tension for quite some time. He listens, eyes steady on his parents as they explain what might happen, and when I tense at each new piece of news, he rubs up and down my back.

Eventually, the conversation dies down, and Rumford makes his move. "We actually stopped by to speak with you about something else." He waits for his parents' full attention, squeezes my hand, and gives me a reassuring smile. The smile is full of hope and love. "You're going to be grandparents."

Mrs. Gold's soft gasp is muffled by her hands. I don't know exactly what I expect, but I sure as hell do not expect her to stand and literally tug me into a hug. Rumford is pulled in by her free hand, and she starts crying. Mr. Gold is right behind her, though no tears trail down his cheeks. He just smiles at his son and claps him on the back. And once Mrs. Gold lets me go, he gives me that hug he was denied earlier. It's absolutely stunning, how such a terrifyingly powerful man can be so light-hearted and friendly in this moment.

I just hope the same can be said for my parents when we tell them the news.

Anon prompted: Matched rumbelle first family Halloween

A/N: I didn't want to delve too far in, but I created fluff so hopefully you like it :D 333 Bae is 3 years old.

"Watch your step!" I say, tugging on Bae's tiny hand. He's all excited and adorable in his little monkey outfit, and every time he hops, the tail attached to his rear bounces. It's his first time trick-or-treating, so he can't stop babbling about candy and sweets. Of course, I'm just as thrilled. Maybe twenty pictures have already been taken tonight and we're not even out the door.

A tuft of his hair sticks out in front of his eyes, but he doesn't let me brush it to the side. And when I bring him out onto the porch, Rumford is there waiting for us. He's bent over the pumpkin we carved a few days ago. Bae's blue eyes shine with wonder as he watches him light the candle inside the pumpkin.

Rumford looks up once it is done and smiles as he sets down the lighter. His warm, dark eyes meet mine, and I know what he's going to do. In a flash, he has Bae up in his arms and is swinging him in the air. "How's my little lad? What are you? Are you a…dinosaur?" He winks at me.

Bae giggles. The sound is music to my ears. "No, Papa! No! A monkey! Monkey!"

"A pirate? Argggh!" Rumford responds, spinning on his feet. He's careful not to fall down the steps or knock over the pumpkin. Bae fists his hands in his father's hair, careful to hold on, though he's never been dropped before.

"No, Papa! A monkey! Oooo ooo ahh ahh!"

I nearly collapse from laughter when he starts making monkey noises to give Rumford hints. Apparently Rumford agrees because he bursts out laughing and finally nods to say yes. "Ah, a monkey it is!" he announces impishly, bringing Bae to his chest and then pressing a swift kiss to his half-covered head. He meets my happy gaze before letting his eyes travel down my form to the hand resting on my slightly swollen belly. "What is your Mama, I wonder?"

"She's pregnant," I tease, not wanting to dress up in a costume. I'm about four months along, and the last thing I need is to fall because of tripping in unfamiliar clothes.

Rumford hums and walks to my side with Bae on his hip. "You're beautiful," he whispers, giving me a kiss. He rests his free hand on my belly. "Are you sure you want to come with us? I can manage Bae alone."

"And miss his first Halloween? I'm coming," I answer, although I know it isn't what he wants to hear. This pregnancy has turned out rougher than the first one. Morning sickness combined with constantly aching limbs and joints has made me slower and more tired. Sometimes I sleep the day away and Rumford has to remind me to eat because I'm eating for two. Other times I am starving and eat like there is no tomorrow. The changing moods are enough to drive me crazy.

Frowning, Rumford moves his hand to the small of my back. "What about your feet, sweetheart? You said they were hurting yesterday." I silently curse myself for my words, but the need for a foot massage had been too great last night.

"I'm fine," I say, exasperated. "Let's go."

Still looking unsure, Rumford sets Bae down on his feet and heads inside. I give him a questioning stare, but he ignores it and grabs my coat off the rack. "I'll not have you catch a cold," he says when I roll my eyes at him. He helps me into the coat and buttons it up for me. "Are we still going to take him trick-or-treating in your old neighborhood?" There is something heated in his eyes, and we've argued this before. We live in a very secluded wood with no neighbors, and he would rather we take Bae trick-or-treating in his parents' neighborhood.

"Yes." I ignore my husband's pointed glare and bend to take Bae's hand. "Ready to go, sweety? Let's get you into the car while Papa locks the doors." We'll have to drive to my parents' house and get out from there.

"Yes!" Bae squeals, picking up his pumpkin bucket from the inside of the door. "Yes! Candy please!" He swings the bucket as he skips down the steps. I follow him and look over to catch Rumford's broad grin.

Kritipotterwhovian prompted: Matched Christmas Prompt: Their first family Christmas together.

"Mama, Papa! Mama, Papa! Wake up! It's Crwistmas!"

Little fists pound on our bedroom door, and we hear Bae scramble to twist the doorknob. The sound is so adorable it hurts, but I'm not happy about being woken up before seven. Last night was full of long trips to the bathroom so that I could empty my stomach. Rumford was so anxious that he sat with me and held back my hair the entire time. It wasn't until around four in the morning that the nausea subsided and he carried me back to bed.

His hand presently brushes my cheek, and he whispers against my neck: "How are you feeling, sweetheart? Better?"

"Better," I agree, although I think I need a few glasses of water and a healthy breakfast to feel like my normal self (or as normal as I can be at six months pregnant).

Rumford's hand rubs soothingly along my swollen belly, and I sigh at the soft pressure. It would be easier to bury my face in my pillow and fall back asleep, but Bae choses that moment to figure out the knob and barge into our bedroom. He squeals at his triumph and hops up to our bed. Rumford immediately opens arms and lifts him to settle between us. "Papa, pwesents! Mama, wake up!"

"Okay, okay," I appease him, pressing a swift kiss to his temple. He looks so perfect and innocent in his superhero pajamas that I can't resist poking him in the belly. He giggles at my antics and leans into his Papa to escape my fingers. "We're up, sweetie." And we are. Despite the fact that Rumford and I are operating on only three hours of sleep, we are attentive to our little boy. He'll have all of our attention until his baby sister is born. Then he and Annalise will be the center of our universe.

When I start to push myself up on my elbow, Rumford quickly sets Bae down on his feet and rushes to the other side of the bed to help me. He is so concerned. Maybe he's too concerned—but it is Christmas and I'll not make fun of him today. Especially when he's the one who is going to cook breakfast.

We slowly head downstairs.

Rumford settles Bae on his hip and keeps a step ahead of me on the way down. He takes my hand on the final step and immediately guides me to the couch beside the fireplace. Our Christmas tree stands in a corner of the family room, right next to my seat. The tree is ridiculously decorated, with all sorts of trinkets and streamers and lights wrapped around it. It is surrounded by a number of presents—most of them belonging to Bae.

Bae goes nuts at the sight. He wriggles in his Papa's arms and demands to be put down. "Santa!" he yells, picking up the nearest wrapped box. "He came, Papa!" And the peal of laughter he lets out brings happy tears to my eyes. Even Rumford can't help but shoot me a grin as our precious boy plops himself down and begins unwrapping his gifts.

"Where's the camera?" I wonder, suddenly panicking. Bae will grow up so fast, and it's these moments I want to keep with me forever. "Rum—"

"I've got it right here, sweetheart," Rumford reassures me. Somehow he managed to pull it out without me noticing. He hands it to me and then claims the space beside Bae. "Why don't you open this one, Bae?" he says, pointing to the biggest box hidden beside the tree. Bae ambles over to the present as fast as his little legs can carry him. With a mighty tear, he reveals most of the toy set we've gotten for him, and I'm so happy I've got the camera rolling on video because Bae starts hopping up and down in excitement.

"Can I pway now?" he asks.

"You've got more to open," Rumford objects, although I can see the teasing sparkle in his eyes. He hands him another one. "This one is from Gramma and Granpa."

I am so focused on Bae's progress that I don't even realize Rumford is beside me until he presses a kiss to my cheek and murmurs my name. "Belle…" My eyes flash from our little boy to his pleased smile. "Merry Christmas, my love," he whispers. He gives me a meaningful kiss and hands me a wrapped gift.

"I didn't want anything," I tell him, offended.

"And I didn't either, but you thought of me anyway," he answers. He kneels beside my seat. "And besides…all I want for Christmas is for you and the baby to be okay." As he says it, his hand rests on my belly. "You know I worry, Belle."

I squeeze his hand. "I know…and I promise we'll be okay."

There is an important pause in which I can almost see the wheels in my husband's head turning. He's thinking, and whenever he thinks, he worries or overthinks things. So I kiss our clasped hands and open his gift to distract him.

It's a book I've been searching for since I first heard of it, and I have no clue how Rumford found it. He must've made numerous calls and connections to locate this for me. The book is ancient. I guess there are only two or three copies of it left from the Old World before the Society took over. It's a book I'm sure I can read only because I am a member of the Inner Society, and the fact that I'm a Gold holds prestige. The fact I am Rumford Gold's wife holds even greater power. "Oh thank you," I say, voice uneven. The cover reads 'Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen' and I've only ever heard of it in secret conversations. Apparently it is a popular book from hundreds of years ago. And now I get to read it. "This must have cost a fortune…"

Rumford rises. "Nothing I couldn't handle. I was able to track it down in one of my father's restricted sections—with his permission of course," he explains, grinning. "It is yours to keep."

Before I can stop myself, I grab his shirt and haul him in for a kiss that's deep and promising. He responds with much enthusiasm and leans over me, one hand holding onto the top of the couch—but Bae's frustrated grunt calls my attention. I look over and see him struggling to break the ribbons on one box. "Pa—pa!" he whines, brokenhearted when he can't quite manage it.

"You'd better go and help him," I murmur against Rumford's lips. "Before he hurts himself. Like you're prone to do…" But he's still distracted, and I can tell he wants to spend a few hours alone with me. Yet that's not going to happen until tonight when Bae's asleep and all is quiet. And hopefully when my stomach isn't acting up. "Rumford."

"Mhmm." He finally pulls back. "Merry Christmas."

I shake my head, smiling, and give him a light shove in the chest. "Merry Christmas. Now get over there and help your son."