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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away)

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth @bfharry and @hardcandy-harry for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!!

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care. She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart.

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.”

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. ��You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral. Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please send feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #prince harry styles #Royal AU #Harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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drarrily-we-row-along · 4 years ago

Text

Day 33: Chocolate

"Babe," Harry said, pressing a kiss to Draco's cheek, "I've got to go."

"What?" Draco asked over the music from the live band celebrating his mum's birthday. "But it's only 9:00!" he groaned.

"I know," he said. "But we've been here all day and there's something that I need to do before the day is through. I'll meet you at home, okay?"

Draco pouted at him, "But Harry," he whined.

"I've got to go," Harry said, gently tugging Draco's body against his by the lapels and kissing the pout off his lips. "Wish your mum a happy birthday for me."

And in spite of the fact that Draco pouted at him, Harry left.

It only took five or six people asking, 'where's your better half?' before Draco's curiosity got the better of him. It wasn't an invasion of privacy to cast a locator spell on your own boyfriend was it?

(Read more below the cut)

With minimal debate, he cast the spell and coordinates appeared on the piece of paper in front of him. After wishing his mother a happy birthday he pulled on his cloak and left the manor to apparate.

Draco spared only one more thought of whether this was an invasion of privacy before he concentrated on the coordinates and apparated away.

The spell wasn't perfect but it was close and when Draco landed he didn't quite know where he was but he could hear Harry's voice.

"and you should have seen him," he said, laughing, "he was completely shocked. His eyes were all wide and big, and his hair was a complete mess, but Godric he was beautiful with the sun streaming in through the window. Like a painting," he added. "I never stood a chance."

And Draco recognized this story. It was the first time Harry had said 'I love you.' Who could he possibly be telling that story to? And where were they?

He looked around as Harry continued, "I think you'd really like him."

Was he in a cemetery?

"He's really clever and serious about his work, always has a plan, and likes things just so," he said.

Draco started walking toward the sound of Harry's voice and as he crested the little hill, he saw that Harry was sitting on a blanket in front of a grave eating a piece of chocolate cake. His heart lodged itself in his throat and he knew he shouldn't be here.

"But he's amazing," Harry said. "He really loves me." He looked down at his lap, "I'm going to ask him to marry me," he said with a big smile on his face.

And Draco gasped, tripping over a root or a bit of uneven ground. When he looked up, he saw that Harry was on his feet, cake forgotten on the blanket.

"Draco?" he asked incredulously.

He winced, "Hi," he managed with a little wave.

"What on earth?" Harry asked. "How did you? What-"

"I'm sorry!" Draco exclaimed. "I just didn't know where you went and you always tell me where you're going, even when you're getting up to just use the loo or something, and I got curious."

"So you followed me?"

He swallowed, "I cast a locator spell."

"Why?" Harry asked, sounding hurt. "Do you not trust me?"

"What?" Draco yelped, stepping toward him. "No. Circe, Harry, it wasn't about you at all. I was drunk and my curiosity-" he trailed off. "I'm sorry."

Harry was quiet for a minute then said, "It's my mum's birthday, too."

Draco looked up at that.

When Harry started to talk again Draco could hear tears in his voice, "I started this tradition after the war, of coming here on their birthdays and having a piece of cake and telling them about what's going on in my life." He shook his head and a tear spilled over. "Chocolate for my mum and vanilla for my dad," he added, "even though I don't really know if those were their favorites."

"Why didn't you say something?" Draco murmured, his own heart aching with the weight of Harry's grief and he wondered if this is what it felt like all the time to be Harry. To always, even in the good moments, have a little bit of sadness.

Harry shrugged, "Seems a bit silly, talking to headstones." He sniffled, "And I know it's not as important as you mum's birthday since she's still here and everything but-"

"This is important," Draco said and he reached out and grasped Harry's hand in his. "This is important."

Harry bowed his head, his shoulders shaking as he started to cry, and Draco physically couldn't stop himself from pulling the other man into him. He wrapped Harry in his arms and held him, "It's alright," he murmured, soothingly rubbing Harry's neck. "I've got you."

It only took a few minutes for Harry to get himself under control and Draco watched him shove his glasses up to rub at his eyes. "Sorry," Harry managed, voice still tight.

"Could you," he swallowed and forced himself to be brave, "Introduce me? If you want."

Harry looked up at him, with a look of wonder and longing so acute that it made Draco's heart ache. "Do you mean it?"

Draco nodded, "If you don't mind."

Tugging Draco's hand, Harry pulled him over onto the blanket, the warming charm he'd set in place made Draco's cheeks sting as they warmed up.

"Mum, dad," Harry started, squeezing Draco's hand tightly in his, "This is him. This is Draco."

"Hi," Draco added, "It's really nice to meet you."

Harry smiled at him and then said, "I spoiled the proposal a bit."

Draco looked over at him, "Oh, the answer is yes, by the way. You should both be the first to know."

Emerald eyes welled up with tears.

He continued, "I love him, more than I could ever say. I didn't know it was possible to love someone this much," he added with a little laugh. "You must be so proud of him," he said, "of the good man he is. Although," Draco added teasingly, "You wouldn't believe how careless he can be. Just this week alone, he literally jumped off a roof-"

"It was a one story house!" Harry protested.

"Shush, I'm telling them the story. A literal roof," he continued, "no cushioning charm or anything. Just jumped after a suspect-"

They swapped stories and bickered with one another until the warming charm started to dissipate and Harry apparated them home.

Every year following that on January 30th and March 27th, there were always two pieces of cake in front of James and Lily Potter's grave. Draco kept little notes of things he wanted to share and memories he wanted to remind Harry to tell them about.

And if Draco sometimes visited on his own to get advice when Harry was driving him mad and to share stories, well, there was no harm in spending a little extra time with your in-laws.

-------------

I actually got the prompt for 'chocolate' twice, back to back! I hope you both enjoyed it!

Day 32: After Wedding Fluff | Day 33: Using the following prompt

(Original Prompt)

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #love #thank you for the prompt #send me a one word prompt and I'll write you a ficlet #day 33 #Can you believe I've been posting these for over a month already?#We're a third of the way there.

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tinyjeanmarco · 4 years ago

Note

Your display name literally defines my week mood, Porco is the best boy🥺 i was wondering if you could write some hc about him?? I didn’t have any specific in mind, maybe something cute but ofc it’s up to you and you can even not write anything, that’s alright too!! Im just happy seeing more people warming up to him☺️ i hope you have a great February and that you stay safe and happy💖

eee! porco really is best boy, i love him to pieces. and of course i’ll write some hc’s about him (*°ヮ° *) these will be super soft, i promise. and thank you! my february has been going well so far, so i wish the same upon you! this is also my first request i’m doing, so i’m really excited. i hope you enjoy! ♡

summary: some hc’s about domestic life with porco. canon divergence because in this he’s not a warrior, that way reader doesn’t have to worry about having a time limit w/ him or worry about anything happening to him (∩_∩). (i think this ended up like some sort of canon-ish au with some modern setting mixed in, whoops!)

porco x gn!reader

warnings: none

you’ve known porco since you two were kids. you essentially grew up together and you had always had a tiny crush on him growing up.

it wasn’t until you guys were teens that he confessed to liking you as well. this totally took you by surprise, but in a good way!

a few days after he confessed to you, he told you that he did so because he knew reiner also liked you, and he was afraid that reiner would admit his feelings for you and that you’d date him instead.

he didn’t want to become the pathetic childhood friend who was too afraid to say something and then be doomed to watch you be in love with someone else for the rest of his life.

when he told you this, you found it quite funny (and also felt bad for reiner since porco just outted him and now he would never get a chance cuz you’re dating porco), since you had always liked porco, not reiner, so he wouldn’t have had to worry, anyways.

you two had been together for years, not really having many issues. that isn’t to say you would never fight or disagree, but you two always made an effort to resolve any tensions that arose.

porco seems to me the type who holds grudges and doesn’t really care to talk things out, but he knows that if he does that with you, he will most likely end up losing you.

whenever you get into a disagreement/fight with him, he needs space and time alone before he can come back and confront the situation. if you try to make him talk right away, he will lose his cool and say something he doesn’t mean.

you sort of learned this the hard way with him when you started dating. he’s long since made up for those times, but in the back of his head, he still feels bad about them (although he would never tell you this).

after dating for like six years, porco finally decided to wife you up and make you his officially.

he would definitely want it to be really special for you because he absolutely adores you and wants to make it something that you’ll remember forever.

he would have a whole plan put together. he has the ring, he just needs to take you out, have a nice night, eating really well, and then as you two gaze up at the stars on the roof of the building you live in, he would whip out the ring and propose. bam! foolproof.

probably not as foolproof as he hoped because he actually ended up accidentally proposing to you while you guys were just cuddling one night.

you would be all cuddled up to him, both of you almost asleep, and he mumbles out, not thinking, “marry me.”

and you’re instantly awake at that, turning your head to glance at him, and just say yes.

boy do his eyes shoot wide open. he’s stumbling over words, trying to correct himself before you just kiss him to get him to shut the hell up.

he tells you that he had a whole plan to make it special for you and spend the whole day together before popping the question.

you respond, saying that he can still do that, you’ll just pretend you never heard anything, but any way that it happened was special enough to you because you love him with your whole heart and you just want to be with him.

he bonks you on your nose and just calls you cheesy, but his heart is beating fast with the pure love he holds for you.

you both end up going through with his plans and having a wonderful day, him proposing again at the end of it all.

okay, so, porco loves kissing you. his favorite activity. you want a smooch? you don’t even have to ask, he’s one step ahead of you.

he is a clingy baby that wants to always have you near him. he will constantly have his hand on you, whether it’s in your hand, on your thigh, around your waist.

he loves kissing the top of your head. if you are shorter than him, it’s a win and easy peasy. if you’re taller than him, he will make you bend down so he can still kiss the top of your head.

he also will love kisses on the top of his head if you’re taller than him, or if you two are cuddling and he has his head laid on your chest.

he also loves it when he’s just showered, and his hair isn’t slicked back, if you play with his hair, running your fingers through the soft blond locks. it really relaxes him and helps him fall asleep.

this clingy boy also loves to cuddle with you.

he will look for any opportunity to wiggle into your arms and tangle his limbs in yours.

he loves to be both the big spoon and little spoon, all depending on his mood. sometimes he just enjoys the comfort of being held close to you, and other times he wants to hold you in his arms to remind him that you’re really there with him.

he will have an iron grip on you, refusing to let you go ever.

“porco, please, i have to pee.”

“noooo. stay here, pee later.”

“porco, i will pee on you.”

i also totally hc porco to love cooking or baking. he definitely loves to eat and it’s more fun when he gets to eat it with you. better yet, cooking with you.

when you’re making cookies or something, you’ll have to yell at him to stop eating the raw batter. it’s not good for you. (if you’re vegan, you wont really have that exact issue, but him still eating it means there will be less output, so stop eating it, porco!)

he first started cooking when you guys moved in together which means he was pretty bad at it. you kind of had to help him and were brutally honest if he burnt something or did something wrong.

i don’t think he would really be a disaster in the kitchen because he would always follow the recipes down to a T.

i mentioned above you two moving in together. let me tell you, that was one chaotic day. so many boxes, so few hands. you legit spent all day moving things in.

porco would constantly be like “ow, ow, babe, i hurt myself!” to make you fret over him and then when you ask him what’s wrong he’ll say something along the lines of “i hurt my hand carrying this box. can you kiss it better?” or he would straight up be like “my heart hurts because you’re not kissing me right now.”

cue rolling your eyes and giving this dumb baby a kiss nearly every fifteen minutes.

you end move in day with all the boxes piled up around your apartment, and you two fall asleep on just a plain mattress with a few pillows, too tired to unpack anything else. maybe a blanket too so that way you guys don’t get too cold.

i’m hopping around a lot for these hc’s, but the wedding you two have is a nice small one with just your closest friends and family.

he doesn’t even care (that much) when you invite reiner, he’s just excited to marry you and be yours.

seeing you all dressed up for the wedding makes his heart leap into his throat, and he just starts crying. he never thought this day would come and that he would be lucky enough to spend his forever with you.

after you two say your vows and the officiator says you may kiss, he leaps to you and gives you the slowest, most gentle kiss ever. he pours his soul out into the kiss, making sure you know this is the happiest day of his life.

the whole part at the after party where you feed each other cake? he’s the one to smash it all over your face. yep. he’s that kind of husband.

calling him your husband is also your new favorite thing. it just makes it feel so real.

“hey, can you get me a glass of water, husband?” and he melts because he loves hearing that come out of your mouth. it reminds him that you actually married him. (he still can’t believe that.)

porco will try his hardest to be the best husband ever and always make you happy. he just loves you to the moon and back and is never afraid to show it.

#porco x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #porco #porco galliard x reader #snk x reader #snk #requests

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years ago

Text

marriage story

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5,641

summary: Fake marrying Bucky was only supposed to be a means to an end.

prompt: college au, fake marriage au, and enemies to lovers

warnings: swearing, talk of past sexual abuse

a/n: This was written for @broadwayandnetflix for @bucky-smiles‘s Secret Santa! SURPRISE!!!! I’m so sorry I’m a day late, I just wanted to make sure it was as good as I could make it!! I really hope you enjoy!!!

You weren’t sure how you ended up staring at divorce papers.

Hell, you’d just graduated college three weeks ago and had miraculously landed your first job that was conducive to your career.

And now, you were a divorcée at the age of twenty-one.

Granted, your marriage had lasted much longer than a lot of those that happened when the two people were teenagers.

It had also been fake, but that’s beside the point.

You read over the divorce papers for the eightieth time since they’d arrived. Both of you took your individual things, no need for lawyers…

It had all seemed so simple when it first began. A means to an end.

You were eighteen and stupid. Desperate. You had no idea what the consequences would be.

You had no idea that you’d actually fall in love with your husband.

He’d needed to live off campus since he couldn’t afford the on campus housing. At a minimum of seven thousand dollars a school year, it was ridiculous. You couldn’t really afford it either, but the school had a rule that you couldn’t live off campus until your junior year, and the two of you were still second semester freshmen.

Then there was the issue with your FAFSA. You weren’t exactly on good terms with your parents. And by not on good terms, you meant that you didn’t speak to them. At all. Getting their tax information wasn’t going to happen, and it wasn’t like they were helping you pay for college.

But FAFSA wouldn’t let you fill it out as an independent student until you were twenty-one. Apparently, being cut off from your parents wasn’t enough of a ‘special circumstance’ to allow it.

But, there was one little thing that could fix all that.

Matrimony.

If you were married, you’d have to file independently. No questions asked about parents.

And the university would allow you to live off campus, too.

It was a perfect solution. A quick little trip to the courthouse.

Living together had seemed logical. A little two bedroom apartment was much cheaper than seven thousand dollars for nine months in a dorm room you had to share.

Plus, you had to keep up the illusion to the school and the government that you were married.

Outside of living together though, there wasn’t much needed. Each of you wore a fake ring when you went to your meetings with your advisor and your classes. It kept the rabid frat boys away from you, at least.

And then there were the scholarships. Turns out, there are scholarships specifically for married college kids, and your advisor thought you were just perfect for it because she’d never met such a wonderful couple.

It was all perfect. Until it wasn’t.

First off, you and Bucky didn’t even really like each other when all of this started. You only knew each other because you were best friends with Natasha, who was his best friend’s girlfriend. It had actually been the two of them that had gotten the idea in the first place.

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering why we gathered you here today,” Steve said, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Steve, this is my room.”

This was not how you wanted to spend your Saturday night. You’d worked a double that day, from eight in the morning to ten that night.

The perks of working at a bar that did Mimosa Mornings on the weekends. The worst part was that you weren’t even allowed to take a shot or two to help you get through it since you were eighteen.

Stupid fucking law. If you could work in a bar, you should be able to drink to deal with the customers. Because fuck, they’re horrible.

But you made more than you’d be making at Buffalo Wild Wings, that’s for sure.

“Can we just get whatever this is over with?” Bucky asked from across the room. He definitely wasn’t keen to be stuck in a room with you for any longer than necessary. “I have work in the morning.”

“Same here,” you added, narrowing your eyes at the two who sat in front of you.

Natasha was your best friend and your roommate, but fuck were you ready to put out a ‘New Friends Wanted’ sign. You could take applications.

Requirement number one: Must not be dating the best friend of the most annoying prick in the world AKA Bucky Barnes.

Requirement number two: Must not be waiting to ambush you in your own dorm room with said prick.

“So, both of you are having issues with the university,” Nat said as she took out a bunch of papers. “The dorms are crazy expensive and you’re not allowed to live off campus. Also, FAFSA is ridiculous.”

“And we have a solution,” Steve said, a grin on his face. He was such a giver. He loved his friends more than anything in the world and would literally give anything for them. Seriously. You’d once watched him actually give the shirt off his back to Bucky when the latter had gotten drunk at a party and puked all over his.

He’d also gotten it on your shoes, and Bucky had just burped and said, “They look better now.”

The disgusting asshole.

“Well, spit it out,” you said, rubbing your temples. You were still in your uniform, a pair of cut off jean shorts and a tank top. Your hair smelled like cigarette smoke and someone’s beer that they spilled on you. “I’d like to go to sleep before sunrise, please.”

“You two could get married.”

Both you and Bucky stared at them like they’d grown two heads.

“I’m sorry… What the fuck did you just say?” You asked, standing up.

Natasha rushed to continue, still grinning. “If you two get married, the university will let you live off campus, and FAFSA will let you file as independent!”

“And it’s cheap! A marriage license only costs like… fifty bucks? Something like that!” Steve said.

Well… It wasn’t… a horrible idea, even if you and Bucky might end up killing each other before then.

“I don’t know...,” you said, the whole idea making you nervous. Marriage? Come on.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I really don’t want to be married to her. We’d kill each other before we hit our six month anniversary,” he mocked, shooting a glare your way.

“It would only be until you graduate!” Natasha said. “And then, you two get divorced and it becomes a funny story to tell at parties!”

You shared a look across the room with the brunette. It would solve your problems…

“Fine.”

Turns out, getting married was a lot easier than you thought it would be. All four of you went to the courthouse that next Tuesday when all of you had a break in between classes.

You wore a sweatshirt and leggings, your ratty sneakers that were covered in mud along the bottom. Bucky wore jeans and a university hoodie.

Not exactly usual wedding attire.

Natasha, ever the optimist ever since she met Steve, had shoved a daisy she’d picked in your hair.

And an hour later, you’d walked out as Mrs. Barnes.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stood up from the couch and walked around the little place you’d called home since you were eighteen.

It had been quiet the first few months. You signed a lease on an apartment a few blocks from campus and had moved in right at the end of the school year, but he went home with Steve to Brooklyn, New York.

You were alone the entire summer except for the few weekends that Natasha managed to come visit. The only time you and Bucky spoke was when he texted you to let you know when he was moving in.

And that’s when the fighting had started.

As you stared at a picture of the two of you on the wall, you couldn’t help but laugh. In the photo, you two were sitting on the couch, holding a cake that Natasha and Steve had gotten you as a joke. HAPPY 2ND ANNIVERSARY! was written across it in bright blue icing.

It was a far cry from when you two had first moved in. Everything was an issue. You didn’t do this, he did that, the both of you wanted to watch different movies and he had brought the television but you’d brought the DVD player. Everything. Hell, you’d sleep on the bean bag in Natasha’s dorm some nights because even being in the same apartment as him was too much.

Eventually, there was compromise. An understanding grew between you and with that, a truce. You couldn’t keep living like you were.

You were pretty sure the war had finally, silently ended one late night in October. It was the weekend before Halloween, and you’d had the worst shift of your life.

Your keys clanged as you unlocked the front door, trying to open it as quietly as possible. Even from where you stood, you could see the clock above the stove that read 1:42 AM. You were supposed to be off at ten, but that clearly hadn’t happened. One of the other girls working had gotten sick and you were forced to cover the few hours she was supposed to work alone until close.

And to add onto that, you made less the entire weekend than you had last Friday night. You’d been hit on, groped, yelled at. Fuck. You just wanted to collapse in your bed.

“You’re home late.”

“Fuck!” You jumped in shock, your heart pounding in your chest. God. Your anxiety had just spiked and the exhaustion you’d been feeling was replaced with your fight or flight instinct.

Bucky was standing in the hallway entrance, brows furrowed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He had on those gray sweats that he looked so good in…

No! Down girl! Bad!

It didn’t matter that he was hot. He was a total dick.

Though, lately he’d be rather kind. Nice. There’d been less fights in the past few weeks.

You cleared your throat, looking away from him. “Yeah, Wanda got sick, so I had to close.”

“There’s dinner in the microwave,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh. Thank you.”

He nodded, before disappearing down the hall. It surprised you when you heard the bath start, but whatever. Whether or not he took baths was none of your business.

You were surprised to find a huge bowl of vegetable soup in the microwave. Huh. You’d just been talking to Natasha about how much you missed your mom’s homemade version.

Whatever. It wasn’t like you’d ever be having that again.

You let your head rest on the counter as you waited for the soup to heat up. Fuck. Your entire body ached.

“Hey, do you want epsom salt?” Bucky called out from the bathroom.

“Uh, what?” You said as you raised your head. Even just moving that little made your head pound.

He poked his head out of the doorway, his long hair pulled back in a bun. “For your bath? Do you want epsom salt?”

“My bath? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked as the microwave beeped.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe. “The bath that I’m currently running you. Do. You. Want. Epsom. Salts?”

There was a long pause as the two of you stared at each other. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you expected. “That would be nice.”

Once he’d disappeared back into the bathroom, you pulled out your phone and texted Nat.

To: Tasha

Why is Barnes acting weird?

From: Tasha

Which one of you?

Get it?

Cause you’re married?

To: Tasha

Yeah

I got it.

But he’s being fucking weird.

From: Tasha

How so?

To: Tasha

He made me dinner? At least, he poured vegetable soup from a can into a bowl and left it in the microwave.

And he’s running me a bath???

V V strange.

If I don’t text you tomorrow

It’s probably because he killed me

From: Tasha

Oh that

To: Tasha

What do you mean

“Oh that”????

NATASHA

ANSWER YOUR PHONE

From: Tasha

Sorry, was talking to Steve

He mentioned you’d been working a lot and how tired you were so I told him he should do something nice.

And I may have told him that you missed your mom’s vegetable soup.

So that probably explains that.

“Hey, it’s ready,” Bucky said as he came into the kitchen. “I’ve got some towels in the dryer going, so they’ll be all warm when you’re ready to get out.” He seemed so… laissez-faire about it. Like you two didn’t fight on a daily basis usually. He watched as you took a bite of the soup, his blue eyes zeroed in on you. “Do you like it?” He asked. “I tried following my ma’s recipe. Don’t know how well it went.”

You couldn’t help but moan around the spoon as the warm soup went down. Even reheated, it was amazing. “This is your mom’s recipe? It’s amazing.”

His cheeks flushed as he tried to hide a grin. “Thanks. I’ve missed her cooking.”

It was silent as you finished up the soup, the only sound being the spoon clanging against the bowl. It wasn’t until you set your dishes in the sink to wash the next day that he spoke again.

“Oh, I got you this,” he said as he pulled out a box. “I saw my advisor and he knows that we’re married and he mentioned that we still don’t have rings, so I just went and grabbed a ring from a thrift store.”

It was then that you noticed the simple silver band on his left ring finger, glinting in the low light.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you took the box. But your breath was stolen from your lungs as you opened it, revealing a gorgeous diamond engagement ring with a matching diamond wedding band. “It’s… It’s beautiful… Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, you go ahead and get in the bath. I’ll bring you the towels when they’re done.”

As you sat in the bath, you couldn’t help but stare at the rings that now resided on your left hand. They glinted in the low light of the candles that had been placed in various places around the bathroom, most likely lit with Bucky’s lighter from the local smoke shop.

They were absolutely stunning.

Maybe… just maybe… this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as you first thought it would be.

You glanced over at the table as your phone buzzed, running to it. Maybe it’s Bucky…

But your hope was dashed as you realized it was Natasha calling you.

You hadn’t realized you’d been crying until a drop of water fell on the screen. Wiping your eyes, you brought it up to your ear. “Hey, Tasha! What’s up?” You couldn’t help but wince. You sounded like a fucking real estate agent. Perfect and peppy and… not you.

“Hey, I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing,” she whispered, as though she was trying to keep someone else from hearing. “Bucky got the divorce papers today and I figured that meant you did, too.”

Ah, another thing. He’d been staying at Steve and Natasha’s place since all of you had graduated, and the time had come for the divorce. He’d gotten all of his things out within two days, except for the hoodie you were currently cocooned in and your wedding rings.

“I know how much you love this place,” he’d said with a wry smile. “So you can have it in the divorce settlement.”

It had been a joke. The divorce settlement. Like you two had actually been in love and things just hadn’t worked out.

“You aren’t gonna change the Netflix password on me, right?” You asked as you stood in the doorway of Bucky’s room, arms crossed over your chest. “Because I’m still paying for half of it.”

Buck grinned at you as he taped the last box shut. “I don’t know… Might change it up on you. Have it all to myself. Then my suggested movies and shows won’t be so fucked up,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, glaring at him. But there was no heat behind it. “We have separate profiles on there, you dumbass. So if Gossip Girl is on your suggested, that’s your fault.”

The laugh that erupted from his mouth made him throw his head back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Seeing Bucky Barnes laugh was one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It was better than the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, and the Great Wall of China all rolled into one.

“We’re still gonna have Thursday night movies, right?” You asked, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked.

In the three years since you’d gotten married, Thursday night had become your sort of fake Date Night. You two would order takeout and watch movies until the both of you passed out of the couch. You both changed your availability at your jobs to let them know that you couldn’t work Thursdays. Not even Natasha and Steve were allowed to intrude. It was just your special night to hang out.

“I’ll bring the food. Do you want Thai or Mexican?” He asked, his features a little softer.

“I’ll text you what I want,” you said. Biting your lip, you toyed with the rings on your left hand. “I guess I should give you these back, huh?” You started to slip them off, but he stopped you.

“They’re yours,” he said, his hand closing over yours. His blue eyes shimmered in the light as you swallowed. “Keep them… as a reminder of your former husband.” The corner of his mouth twitched, but you couldn’t tell if he was going to smile or frown.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said, suddenly surging forward to hug him. “Even though you’re super annoying.”

Bucky laughed as he wrapped his arms around you just as tight. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

“How’s he doing?” You asked as you moved to what had formerly been Bucky’s room. It was now completely bare, except for a single gum wrapper on the floor. You sank down against the wall as you stared at it. Extra wintermint gum. Because he absolutely hated spearmint.

“About as well as you, I imagine,” she said slowly, choosing her words ever so carefully. “I don’t know. He went out for a walk a few minutes ago. But he locked himself in the guest room for hours after getting the papers.”

You let your head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to stop another onslaught of tears. “This is what we wanted,” you said, your voice cracking.

A pause. You could feel the tension even through the phone, a can of worms Natasha was about to open. “Is it? Is this what you wanted?”

“This was always the plan!” You retorted, the tears coming in a wave now. “We’d stay married until after we graduated and then we’d divorce. No drama, no court, no lawyers. Just a means to an end.”

You could hear her whispering to someone that you knew was Steve on the other end for a few seconds, the sound muffled. She’d probably covered the speaker. “Do you want me to come over?” She finally asked.

“No,” you said with a sigh, rubbing the hell of your palm against your eyes. “I just wanna… curl up in bed and watch cheesy movies and never come out.”

You didn’t understand. Why did this hurt so bad? He was just a friend. You two had never even kissed, for crying out loud. This wasn’t some fanfiction where you two fell into bed one drunken night and then woke up with feelings. This wasn’t an ‘Oh no, there’s only one bed’ type of deal with 100K+ words on AO3. You two were just friends. Really. There was no happy ending for the two of you waiting.

“Are you still gonna go to the Barnes’s Fourth of July party?” Natasha asked, her voice softer.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on your knee caps. “There’s no point. We’re not married anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” she chided. “You know he’d want you there. So would his family. You’re still a Barnes, even if you change your last name back.”

“I don’t know,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip. “I like the last name Barnes better. It’s not like I have any connection to my old last name. Maybe…” You swallowed. “Maybe I should keep it. It costs money to change it back, after all. It’s on my license now.”

Ah, yes. Because your license had expired while you were married and you’d had to get a new one.

“You’re a Barnes now and forever, hon,” she teased. You could hear her smile through the phone. “And you know Winifred would be pissed as hell if you didn’t go. You’re her daughter now just as much as Bucky is her son.”

God, the tears came on like a tsunami when you remembered the Barneses. George, Winifred, Becca, all of them. Especially Winifred. Sweet, sweet Winnie that had become your mom in the years since you’d met her.

“Bucky, I don’t know about this,” you said as you walked up the steps to his place. Or, rather, his parents’ place. “I should just go home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed as he searched for the right key. “I’m not letting you drive the way back just to spend Christmas alone.”

Truthfully, it was stupid to even suggest. Your apartment that you shared with him now was over eight hours away, and it was two days before Christmas Eve.

God, how the hell did you end up here? You’d been planning on spending it alone, just like you had Thanksgiving.

But when Bucky had come back from the break and realized that you hadn’t gone anywhere, it’d prompted him to ask why, which had then resulted in him insisting on you accompanying him to New York City for Christmas with his family.

“What if they don’t like me?” You asked, barely audible. In truth, you were terrified. This was your first holiday season that you were away from your parents. Thanksgiving had been strange, and you had certain it wasn’t going to get any better up until a few weeks ago.

Bucky stopped suddenly, looking at you with big blue eyes. “Sweetheart, they’re going to adore you,” he said, more sincere than he’d been since the two of you had gotten married. “How could they not?”

“You didn’t!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t like me either. And then we got to know each other.”

He had a point.

You grumbled, staring down at your boots. They were still covered in snow.

“And besides, Ma hasn’t shut up about meeting you ever since she found out about you,” he muttered as he finally found the right key. “Dad said she’s been obsessively cleaning the house since she found out you were coming.”

As soon as the opened the door, you were hit with a wall of sound. A woman with the same shade of hair as Bucky rushed forward, trapping the six foot man in a hug. “YOU’RE HOME!”

“Winnie, come on, don’t suffocate the boy.” A man with Bucky’s eyes appeared, his hands shoved in his pockets. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but the second he was free of his mother’s grasp, he was dragging him into another hug. “I’ve missed you, son.”

“And you must be his wife!” Winifred Barnes said, suddenly turning on you.

“Ma, she has a name.”

“I know that!”

“Winnie–”

You were pulled into a hug, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with feelings. Maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t hugged your own mother in so long, or maybe it was just because Winifred was that lovely of a person. Either way, you were tearing up as she hugged you tightly. You gave her your name as she pulled back, looking over your face.

“Oh, you’re even prettier than Jamie said!”

Your cheeks flushed as Bucky grumbled out a quiet “Ma…”

It was then that you were swept into the apartment, finding it bustling with people. You were then introduced to the rest of his family: his younger sister, Becca, who was going to be a senior in high school and was SO grateful to have a new sister, his aunts, his uncles, his parents. The entire apartment was bursting with people even days before the actual holiday.

It wasn’t until after dinner (which was absolutely delicious) that you were able to capture a quiet moment in the kitchen, helping Winifred wash dishes.

“Thank you for having me over,” you said, to break the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, surprisingly, you just felt like you needed to vocalize your thanks for what was probably the third time. “It means a lot.”

“Any friend of Jamie’s is a friend of ours,” she said as she rinsed off a plate. “And we’re so grateful for what you’re doing. He mentioned that it helps you, too, but… Our family can’t afford to pay for his housing. We can barely make his tuition.” She looked at you with crystal clear eyes that seemed to bore into your soul. “We’re so happy to have you.” She then paused, glancing over at the side of the sink, where you’d set your wedding rings just to make sure they didn’t slip off in the water. “You know, I was so happy when he asked for my ring. He’s always dreamed of giving it to a girl.”

“What?” You asked, looking at her in shock.

Winifred paused, her brows furrowed in a way that really reminded you of your husband. “Did he not tell you? The engagement ring is mine. But he saved up over the summer to buy a matching band for it.”

Your heart raced in your chest as you stared at the rings. Bucky had gotten his ma’s ring for you? But… why? You two were barely friends at this point.

“I would’ve been spending Christmas alone if it wasn’t for him inviting me,” you said, breaking her stare to look down at your soapy hands. “He found out I spent Thanksgiving at home and almost shit a brick.” You rushed to cover your mouth, to apologize, but she just snorted.

An easy smile tugged at her lips. “Holidays are a big thing for our family, and I guess we passed that down to Jamie. Everyone comes to town for about a week and we spend it drinking and shooting the shit, baking. We can’t afford much, so our gifts are usually just spending time together,” she said.

“It sounds nice,” you whispered as you scrubbed absentmindedly at a pan. “My family… even when I still talked to them, we were never big on holidays.” Winifred had gone quiet beside you. “It was always just us. We’d eat dinner together and sometimes I’d get a present, but mostly it was just spent like any other day.”

She took a deep breath, setting a plate on the drying rack. “What… happened? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I… confronted my parents about the sexual abuse I went through as a kid,” you said slowly, swallowing around the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. “My cousin… He, uh… He’s only a year and a half older than me. From the time I was… four or five, I think, to about twelve, he would… you know.” The kitchen felt deadly silent, and you were so glad that the rest of the Barnses, including Bucky, were in the living room. Even though he knew the basics of what had happened, you never told him details. “And my parents would punish me for it when he got caught. They blamed me. They’d ground me or spank me or… whatever.” You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “They didn’t really take it well. It doesn’t matter though. I’m fine.”

You were shocked when you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug. Winifred’s arms formed a cocoon around you and you could feel her tears on your face. She was only an inch or two taller than you. “That was not your fault,” she gasped out, holding you to her. “That was not your fault.”

Before you realized what was happening, you were clutching onto her as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You didn’t know how long she’d held you before she leaned back, wiping away your tears. Or at least, trying to before they were replaced with more. “You are not what he did to you, you hear me?” She asked, wiping at her own face. “You are always welcome here. We’re your family now.”

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Bucky in the doorway, his sea blue eyes wide. He was holding a few extra plates that had been left behind.

“Nothing,” she said with a watery grin. “Just… talking.”

“Here,” he said as he walked over and put the dishes inside the sink filled with soapy water. “I’ll finish up with my wifey here, and you go clean up before dad freaks out because you’re crying.”

She barked out a laugh, nodding. “Fine. Fine. You know how he gets if I’m upset,” she said, kissing your forehead before leaving.

“So… You actually okay?” Bucky asked as he took over rinsing the dishes you washed.

The smile that found its way onto your lips was real, surprisingly, as you said, “Everything’s great, Jamie.”

And even though he let out a groan, he was smiling, too.

It was after that trip that you’d started calling him Jamie. It just… felt better rolling off your tongue than Bucky ever did. It was also when holidays in Brooklyn became a permanent thing. Anytime Bucky went home, so did you.

They were your family.

But now… Now what? Did you lose them like you lost your parents?

Granted, losing your parents wasn’t exactly the worst thing.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Natasha asked, bringing you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head to clear out the cloudiness of your memories. “Yeah, I’m–” You broke off as you heard a knock at the door, a frown tugging at your lips. “Hold on, Tasha, I’ll call you back…” You hung onto your phone as you walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole.

Bucky?... What the fuck was he doing here?

You opened the door wide, shocked to find him crying. His eyes were puffy and red, his nose running. “Jamie? What’s wrong?” You reached forward to touch his shoulder, shoving your phone in your back pocket.

“Don’t sign those papers.”

“Wait… What?” Now you were even more confused. Your brows furrowed as you pushed his hair back from his face. God, he needed a haircut. Maybe you could… No. Not the focus right now.

He stepped toward, half inside the apartment that had been his, too, just two weeks before. His large, calloused hand caressed your face. “I don’t want to not be your husband,” he said, his voice cracking.

Your heart thundered inside your chest and you were half sure this was some kind of trick of your mind to soothe its aching. “What do you mean?”

“I want to make this work,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands. “I… I want to actually have Thursday night Date Nights and take you out and when we go home for the holidays, I want to kiss you under the mistletoe my ma always hangs up, and I want you to wear my ma’s ring. I want to be your husband. Please.”

You didn’t realize you were crying–yet again, fucking damn it–until he wiped them away. “I don’t want to not be your wife, either,” you said, your voice shaking. “I love you, I love you so much.”

His lips met yours in a blazing kiss, holding you closer than you thought possible. “I love you more,” he whispered against your lips. “I’m never letting you go.”

You dragged him inside, shutting the door before kissing him again. “You’re staying here. None of this bullshit of you staying with Tasha and Steve.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled, holding onto your waist. “But only if I get to sleep in your bed.”

“Only if we can shred those divorce papers.”

The moment was interrupted by his phone ringing, and you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw it was Winifred. He shot you an apologetic look as he answered it. “Hey, ma.”

She was speaking so loudly you could hear her clearly. “Well?! How did it go?! Did you ask her?!”

“Yes, I asked her,” he said slowly, squeezing your side. “She said yes. I’m with her now.”

Both of you flinched away as she screamed in excitement. “GIVE HER THE PHONE! GIVE HER THE PHONE!”

You smiled as you pressed it to your ear. “Hi, mom.”

“BABY! I’M SO HAPPY! NOW WE CAN HAVE A REAL WEDDING!” She was speaking at a hundred miles an hour. “Do you want a summer or fall wedding? I think it might be too late to do summer, but I’m sure we could scrounge something together!”

You giggled as Bucky stole kisses from you while she was speaking, distracting you.

“Sweetheart? You there?”

“A late summer wedding sounds perfect,” you said, unable to wipe the grin from your face. “Absolutely perfect.”

#cmmsecretsanta #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

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pel!ivan and fedyor went through a lot of ups and some downs from the end of pel and 2021 but they also celebrated 10 years together 🥳 i hope fedyor shoved cake into ivan’s face and also you know, im sure they were mushy like the saps they are

Ivan was supposed to be out of here ten minutes ago – actually, at this point, more like twenty – but the clients are still fucking talking, and if they keep it up much longer, he’s going to add it to the bill for “initial consultation.” Drew has a man-bun and unbearably hip black glasses, and works as a developer for some start-up app that he’s tried to convince Ivan to download at least twelve times. (What does the app actually do? Don’t know don’t care.) Mia is thin, blonde, waifish, smells like essential oils, and has been flitting around with her smartphone the entire time, getting in Ivan’s way as she snaps perfectly filtered pictures of the “developmental process” and posts them nonstop on Instagram. They both have a lot of opinions on how they want the energy of the space to feel, and a preapproved list of ethically sourced suppliers. They have paid some ludicrous price for this converted loft in Prospect Heights and chose the location for its proximity to the best farmer’s markets and hippie coffeehouses. Did Ivan die? Is this hell?

Somewhat ostentatiously, he looks at his watch. “Okay,” he announces. “I think that wraps up. You have work number, so – ”

“Oh, just one more thing!” Drew has recently read one (1) book on home design and thinks he’s an expert, so Ivan is forced to suffer his idiotic opinions about the kind of tile they want to use on the kitchen backsplash. Somehow, he manages not to roll his eyes directly out of his head, for which he should be commended. Ivan has discovered that the secret of successfully dealing with people, especially clients, is to smile and nod at everything they say, while mercilessly mocking them in your head. Amazing, the things you learn as a small-business owner in Brooklyn in the year of our lord 2021. Especially when it comes to renovating overpriced tiny gentrified apartments for insufferable techno-douchebags and their vapid influencer girlfriends. And people think Ivan might want to live like this more often? No fucking thank you.

Finally (it’s another ten minutes after that, this is definitely going on the bill), they more or less wrap up, except for the fact that Mia then wants a picture with the three of them. “It’s just so important to us that we’re supporting the immigrant community,” she explains earnestly. “After all, being open, tolerant, learning from our neighbors, people who are different from us, that’s what life is all about. We just love that you’re foreign. The energy feels so right, you know?”

Ivan wonders whether to inform her that he has lived in this country for eight years and been a full citizen (passport and voting rights and everything) for three, then decides that this would venture into sharing-personal-information territory and he is having none of it. His English has improved to the point where he can handle almost all business transactions by himself, but feigning incomprehension can sometimes get him out of them when they turn really stupid. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option here, and so he diligently leans into the frame, smiling half an inch, while Mia snaps a picture of “us and our adorable Russian contractor!!” Ivan informs her of the correct flag emoji to add to the filter, decides that he’s going to add an extra fifty bucks just for that, and finally, finally, makes his escape.

It’s rush hour, and the Q is crammed as Ivan heads into midtown. So much for social distancing and not getting too close to anyone, which is the only thing from the pandemic that he wouldn’t mind keeping. Only about half the crowd is wearing masks, including him, and so he gets off at Times Square, dodges the latest lunatic standing on a soapbox and shouting about how it is all a hoax, and walks several blocks uptown, just to get some space. He finally reaches the restaurant, where he has to flash his vaccination card to get inside (Ivan, who remains Russian to the marrow of his bones, is a little irked that he couldn’t get Sputnik here and had to settle for Pfizer) and climbs up to the open-air rooftop terrace. It is only when he spots his husband, waiting at a table that overlooks the glittering evening lights of the city, when Ivan pulls off his mask and allows himself to properly smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “They are the worst.”

“I figured it was something like that.” Fedyor musters a smile in return, though his eyes look permanently tired these days and Ivan would bet that he’s been scrolling through more depressing emails on his phone. Technically Fedyor is on a two-month sabbatical from work, but he can’t stop himself, and Ivan has had to pry it from his fingers on a number of occasions. “But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Ivan nods stoutly, they are furnished with the drinks and appetizers list, and when the waiter asks if there’s any special occasion tonight, tell him that they are celebrating their ten-year anniversary, albeit somewhat late. This was supposed to happen last spring, but obviously, nobody in New York was going out to a restaurant in the early months of 2020, and Ivan himself had barely gotten home from the hospital and still could be knocked over in a strong breeze. They’re celebrating a lot of things tonight, in other words, even if it’s now been eleven years, not ten, since the day Ivan marched into a Red Square coffee shop and engaged in – well, Fedyor has made sure to inform him that the first date didn’t go nearly as well as Ivan always thought it did. But it worked, didn’t it? Here they are, wedding bands on their fingers, a couple of successful American urban professionals who have built a nice life for themselves and are, if anything, even more madly in love than they were when this whole nutty adventure together first began. So really, if you ask Ivan Sakharov Kaminsky, it went just fine after all.

The waiter congratulates them, gives them two drinks for the price of one, and they both relax and start to talk, fully at ease in the way they only are in each other’s company. Ivan does his Mia impression in an extremely convincing falsetto (after all, [NAME REDACTED] has practice at this) and Fedyor almost dies laughing. They hold hands on the table – no need to hold them under the table – and gaze into each other’s eyes all they want, order dinner and dessert, and take a long time about it. They raise several toasts to this, to them, to ten years, may there be many more. Ivan pays the bill, his treat, and they walk slowly back to Times Square, hand-in-hand, Fedyor’s head nestled on Ivan’s shoulder. It’s New York. Nobody cares.

They ride the Q home, in all its smelly, secondhand glory, taking an hour to bang out to Brighton Beach and descending the elevated stairs into the familiar down-at-heel comfort of their Russian-American neighborhood, neon Cyrillic signs glowing in windows and somebody shouting about how if Sergei ever shows his face here again, she is going to cut his dick off. Ivan and Fedyor look at each other and snort, resisting the urge to shout up and ask what exactly Sergei did, and walk a few more minutes to their building. They climb up three flights of stairs to their apartment, unlock the door and the deadbolt, and step inside.

The instant they are home, Rasputin shoots out of nowhere, yowling as if he has been neglected for months, and curls himself around Ivan’s ankles (he is still liable to give Fedyor evil looks when he feels that this interloper has been stealing his human too often). Ivan sighs, trudges to the kitchen, points out to Rasputin that his food bowl is still half full, gets a wounded look in return, and adds an extra scoopful. Once the cat is happily snarfing down, Fedyor pulls Ivan by the hand, into the dim living room with its blowing curtains. “Come here, my love,” he says. “Hold me.”

Ivan does as ordered, because it’s his favorite thing in the world: cuddling Fedyor close, nothing but the two of them in all of time and space, swaying slowly in the blue hour with fingers and arms and hearts entwined. Ivan kisses Fedyor’s temple, and Fedyor nestles even closer, melted into his embrace. “I love you, Vanya,” he mumbles against Ivan’s collarbone. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Fedya.” Ivan leans down and kisses him properly, sweet and slow and lingering, as they continue to waltz in stately time to a music that nobody except the two of them can hear. “I’m still not always sure why you married me, but I am very glad you did.”

#heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #ivan x fedyor #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #(in repayment for the pain i have inflicted on you with the lighthouse au)#(ahem)

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kitazura · 4 years ago

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it’s the thought that counts, tendō satori

1.6k words of fluff; gn!reader

synopsis: tendō doesn’t understand the excitement surrounding valentine’s day until he decides to celebrate it with you.

notes: i haven’t finished the manga but i’m making timeskip content :D thank u rissie (@sugas-cookie) for beta-ing mwah <3

Tendō’s come to learn that Valentine’s day brings waves of purchases made by eager youth preparing to confess their affections, frantic lovers who’d completely forgotten about the occasion, and other last-minute shoppers looking for gifts to give their loved ones. This year is no different; the orders pile up so quickly he can barely keep up with them.

He’s not complaining—not when his bills are getting paid—he just doesn’t understand why everyone lets themselves get carried away by the Valentine rush. At the root of it all, it’s blatant commercialism, another scheme by society to run your bank account dry through obligatory benevolence, so why play into it? Well, as long as it keeps him in business, he supposes he’ll keep his critiques to himself.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little cynical?” you say when he shares his thoughts, the gentle smile on your lips showing you mean no harm. “I think the idea behind Valentine’s day is charming.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, humming in response. “Why’s that?”

“Isn’t it sweet when someone puts time and effort into something just for you?” you gush. Tendō watches your gaze turn dreamy as your mind wanders off into the clouds. “Like making chocolates for the person you like.”

“That’s what I do for a living, darling.”

“You like all of your customers?”

“Of course; they give me money, after all.”

You laugh, swatting his arm lightly. “I guess it’s hard to romanticize something you do as work.”

You’re not wrong. At some point, it’s expected for your job to lose its magic, no matter how passionate you are about it in the beginning. Chocolate has long lost its allure to Tendō, and now he spends day in and day out pouring it into molds and hurrying to shape it before it hardens beyond salvation. It’s become a chore for him, and even just catching a whiff of a candy bar sends his brain into the stress of work mode.

“What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?” you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

“What an odd question,” he remarks, clicking his tongue like a fussy mother hen. “I think about what I have to do to make it look presentable, of course. And then I count down the minutes until I come home to you.” He beams, proud of his response.

But pride turns to dismay when he catches a glint of disappointment in your eyes. His expression falls as he pulls you closer. “What’s the matter?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Would you ever make me Valentine’s day chocolates?”

He tilts his head in surprise, then kisses your forehead. “I’d make you chocolate any day; all you have to do is ask.”

You seem to drop the matter, although he swears you sigh, “It’s not the same.”

He spends the next couple of days convincing himself he’d only imagined it, but something about your tone and attitude makes it stick in his brain. Whether you’d said it or not, there was clearly something behind your first question.

He asks you about it over dinner: “Is there a reason you want Valentine-themed chocolates in particular?”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” You laugh a little, surprised. “It’s not the Valentine theme I want; just the knowledge that you’re thinking of me on that day.”

He pesters you to elaborate—he’s always thinking of you, don’t you know that?—but you dodge his questions, leaving him in the dark once more.

Since you won’t give him any answers, he’ll just look for them on his own.

He texts Ushijima that night: “Why do you buy chocolate for the one you love?”

“Because they like it,” comes the reply. It’s simple, straightforward, but it’s not what he’s looking for.

He texts Semi the same question. The response is the length of a school essay, explaining the motivations of love in depths only a poet could reach, but it’s still not enough.

At work, your question echoes in his mind: What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?

What was he supposed to think about aside from the process? His customers?

He looks again at the order he’s making. It’s one he expects every year—it comes a week before Valentine’s, by a man whose wife adores chocolate covered strawberries. Tendō remembers it not only because of its consistency, but also because it’s always preceded by an order by the aforementioned wife, who asks for milk chocolate filled with raspberry créme that her husband is so fond of.

He wonders why they order the same thing at the same time every year. There’s no surprise in it, so what’s the point? Had he been in the husband’s place and you in the wife’s, he’d make sure to buy you something different every year, each present more extravagant than the last. He’d make sure that you’d always have something to look forward to in your married life.

A cheery little tune takes form beneath his breath as he pictures a life with you: silver bands around your fingers, lazy mornings on your days off, walks along the Seine.

He sweeps the excess chocolate off the molds in one clean stroke, sighing dreamily. You would buy a bigger, better apartment once you’d saved up enough, or even move to a quiet little cottage in the countryside.

His thoughts wander through the clouds as he mindlessly flits from one project to the next, forgetting to count the hours until his duty for today is through.

Lately, some of Tendō’s usual customers have been dropping by to say the same thing: there’s something different about his work these days. It’s not negative; on the contrary, actually, the quality’s spiked. But he can’t figure out what he’s been doing differently for the life of him.

It weighs on his mind from the time he clocks in to when he clocks out. He’s been using the same ingredients, the same equipment, so what was it?

His answer arrives in the form of the Chocolate Strawberry man, on the very eve of Valentine’s.

The man enthusiastically shakes Satori’s hand and thanks Him for his work, his hands warm and clammy from excitement despite the biting Parisian air.

“My wife would have liked to come along as well, but she’s preoccupied with the baby,” the man explains. “She wants you to know how much she enjoys your work, though. We look forward to it every year.”

“Then why not buy it off-season, when it’s cheaper?” Tendō asks. The man looks surprised, prompting him to continue. “With all due respect, you order the same thing every year, anyway, so why wait?”

The man laughs at the sincere look of curiosity in the chocolatier’s eyes, patting him on the shoulder, like a father to his son. “Why wait until birthdays to buy a cake? Why wait until Christmas to exchange gifts and set up the tree? It’s old advice, but it’s good: it’s always the thought that counts.” With one last pat on the back and an affectionate chuckle, the man wishes Tendō a good night—“Enjoy tomorrow with your loved ones.”

The stores are packed with the usual extremely last minute rush on Valentine’s morning, and for the first time, Tendō Satori is part of that crowd.

His arms are filled with the goodies he’d woken up early to buy: heavily discounted candies in tacky packages, a cheesy card, a bouquet, an offensively pink stuffed bear, crumpled foil balloons. (He’d made chocolates for you too; those were waiting in the fridge at home.) If it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you wanted, he decided, then it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you’d get.

He’d sent you out to pick up a cake across the city just before he’d left that morning, so the apartment is still empty when he returns. He checks his watch—only half an hour at most until you’d come back. Setting the bear on the counter, he gives it a determined grin.

“Think I can set everything up in fifteen?”

He’s just barely managed tying the balloons closed when he hears the knob on the front door jiggle as you unlock it.

“I’m home!” Your shoes thud to the floor, joined by Tendō’s footsteps as he hurries to help you with the cake. You thank him when he takes it out of your hands and leads you to the dining table while you chatter away. “Boy, did you see how many people are out there? It’s like all of Paris decided to run their errands this morning. It’s a miracle I got the cake here in one piece—what’s all this?”

Tendō grins, proudly motioning to his handiwork. The bouquet sits in the center of the table, surrounded by neatly arranged dishes of your favorite foods. The plush bear sits at the head, the card and candies tucked into its paws. Balloons reading “Happy Valentine’s” are tied to your chairs, gently swaying to and fro in greeting.

“Do you like it?” he asks. “I figured you wanted to do something for Valentine’s, but all the restaurants are booked so I had to improvise—”

You cut him off with a kiss, and another, then another. “I love it! I love you and I love”—you wave at the room—“all of this.” Another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for thinking of me, Satori.”

He laughs as you hug him, squeezing as tight as you can. He thinks back to the strawberry man’s remark, “It’s the thought that counts.” And maybe, just a little, he’s starting to understand that there’s more to Valentine’s than business.

As you prepare the cake and gush over the bear, he pats the pocket of his jacket. The pretty little velvet box would have to wait until after lunch.

postscript: heyyy <3 i stopped writing for like three months srry LMAO but im back in business baby !! if i try hard enough and school stops kicking my ass maybe i’ll start posting twice a month ahaha ... unless?

#haikyuu fluff #tendou fluff #hq fluff #tendou satori #tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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darkdevasofdestruction · 5 years ago

Note

I really really love the when you become a fallen piece, could I possibly have that with Diavolo? Pretty please? Thank you for reading this.

Yes, definitely! I will write this here, so I hope it’s not weird! I was debating whether or not I should post it on the other thread with the brothers, but maybe here it’s okay too <3

P.S. after I wrote it: I MAY HAVE GONE A BIT OVERBOARD WITH IT, OOPSY DAISY-

---

Long ago, before the Celestial War happened, you, as another Seraph, would look up at Lucifer and how he was loved by everyone, how his brothers adored him...And you?

You were like a caged dove, without any bit of freedom...

You were raised and taught - not like all the other angels - but you were meant to be the key to the Devildom and Celestial Realm allegiance.

You were meant to be the future King of Devildom’s future wife.

So while Lucifer received praises from Gods, from the Cherubim, from the other Archangels...

You, on the other hand, only received criticism from the lower-angels constantly on your back, punishing you if you didn’t behave as you were meant to.

And your dark feelings kept harbouring inside your heart for a long time.

These feelings were only amplified tenfold when Lucifer had the audacity to rebel, along with his brothers, and was welcomed with open arms in the Devildom, by the same man that was supposed to become your Husband...

How vile.

And you wondered...

If you were to rebel and run away as well...

Would he welcome you with so much enthusiasm?

...Of course not, why would he?

He may be your soon-to-be Husband, but all the angels were strict: “You must be his wife, but never grow feelings for such a disgustingly impure, immoral, unethical and vile monster such as him. He is evil incarnated, that’s why he’s the future Demon King!”

So you kept enduring and enduring, until you were finally brought before him, not yet to wed, but to spend the day together and get used to each other.

Needless to say, Diavolo, despite thinking that Lucifer was gorgeous...He found you to be more than ethereal, for lack of better words in any language.

He was happy, he wanted you by his side, despite all the inhibitions and shyness that were brought along with you, but he understood the situation, he was already aware of it, thanks to Lucifer, who was already aware of the problem, naturally.

So for the whole day, he tried to help you ease around him, to look at him with your beautiful E/C orbs that sparkled like the stars in Heaven, to see you, without your wings covering you, as all Seraphim had the habit of doing, he wanted to hear your crystalline voice, loud and clear, not just whispering in his ear whenever you had the courage to say something.

He wanted to hear your laugh, that would be like a lullaby to his ears, he wanted to see your genuine smile, that made his heart explode with a myriad of emotions.

And more importantly, he wanted to touch you, to feel you skin, delicate and soft like a cloud, to taste your lips that were sweeter than any Celeastial Realm dessert.

He wanted you, and he wanted to make you his partner in crime, to tease Lucifer and his brothers, to make witty schemes and pranks together, to sneak around, to make fun, to dance, to laugh, to walk around, to have dates, to do so many things together.

Diavolo was so eager for your wedding together, and so were you, frankly.

You found safety and solace around him, something that you never thought would happen any time in your life, and now you realised why Lucifer was welcomed so nicely to his Kingdom - Because Diavolo wasn’t evil and merciless as the angels wanted her to believe, he was a benevolent ruler who only sought the good of his people and wanted all 3 Realms to be equal and be peaceful.

This didn’t sit well with the angels when you returned back to the Celestial Realm, as they could see you vibing with happiness, they could see your cheeks pink like the roses from the Garden of Eden, and more...Your heart...It was trembling with emotions.

You were in love with the Demon Prince.

You destroyed the allegiance without even realising, and the angels were furious with you for ruining all the centuries of trying to educate you properly, to make you become an obedient little wife.

You screwed up for falling in love with the man you were supposed to marry.

And now, you had to receive the Divine Retribution that few angels had the misfortune to deal with.

You were thrown out of Heaven.

You were let to fall down, from the Celestial Realm, to the Devildom, while all the other angels were throwing insults at you, for being a shame to God and your title as a Seraph, and that you deserve every bit of pain you will have to endure in the future.

Barbatos had already forseen this happening, so Diavolo was waiting for you to fall, so he would be there to catch you before you hit the ground, not wanting you to feel more pain that you must already endure.

Of course, as Lucifer had already gone through all this before, he was informed about the agony, the transformations and the changes in one’s body, but even so, he wasn’t prepared for how emotionally gut-wrenching the sight of the woman he loved so much, sobbing in pain, just because...

Just because she held the same emotions as he did for her.

It wasn’t fair.

Why should she have to suffer for loving someone, while he was safe and sound, not even feeling an ounce of physical pain, nor trauma?

He was holding you tightly to his chest, not even feeling anything while you were clawing at his back and arms from the pain, not able to think or speak coherently, as he could only watch your feathers and a pair of wings slowly burn, even the bone structure of it, while stumps of bone and keratin were protruding from underneath your scalp, getting bigger and bigger, and twisting around in intricate shapes, resembling that of some animal.

“This is not fair! This is not fair! Why...! I was raised to be your wife, but now that I want to, I’m being punished! Is it so immoral to have feelings? To love your Husband? Why is nothing I do ever good for anyone? Why can’t I ever be like the ones I admire so much? Am I really fated to waste away and rot like a caged bird forever?” you’d cry out, as Diavolo put your hands on his own horns, to tug on them, to make himself feel the same hatred, rage, agony, despair as you did, because you were bound by an unbreakable bond, wrapped with the string of fate, from heart to heart.

Diavolo felt powerless for the first time in his life, as there was nothing that could stop, or even lessen such pain - no medicine, beverage, food nor plant or drug - and he could only hold you and curse every living being for not being able to keep you safe from all this madness.

Since he was born a demon, he never had to endure any pain, but seeing you go through it all, it made him want to find some curse and curse himself, so all the pain you’d feel, he’d feel as well, just to punish himself for making you go through all this - Because he blames himself, even if he would never tell it to you, in fear of making you feel even worse.

He wasn’t sure how many days passed until your physical agony subsided and your wings were charcoal black, like a raven’s, and your horns were fully out, but he knew that the worst wasn’t over yet.

Every day, he had to hold you and reassure you that he’ll never leave you, and that he loves you and he would never give you up, just because you are not a Seraph anymore - Your beauty was as ethereal as always, no matter what.

He had Barbatos make sure you bring you food to help you get used to the Devildom cuisine, without purging, because your body wasn’t used to bats and poisoned apples, but to cloud cakes and paradise fruit.

He would hold you tight every night, allowing himself barely a wink of sleep, as he felt it his duty to guard over you while you slept, so you wouldn’t be plagued by night terrors, even going as far as casting spells to help you sleep better, not even sure if they worked or not.

He would get you all sorts of clothes and jewellery, showing you off to everyone as soon as you were ready to step out of your shared room, because you were the most beautiful being alive, and nothing was going to erase that fact - And neither should you ever forget it.

Because Diavolo loved you with all his heart, and was waiting patiently for the day when you’d be able to get fully accustomed to your new life as a demon - But not any demon, but THE Demon Queen - so he could start preparing the Wedding, with you by his side, letting Asmo to style your hair, do your make up and style your wedding dress, making sure it matches with some colour with Diavolo’s suit too, while you two and the brothers, mainly Satan and Belphie, would choose how to decorate the wedding venue, the Ballroom, and Levi would help with the music, while Mammon would provide entertainment and Beel would be in charge of the menu.

And Lucifer would be the one to walk you down the isle, as he was the one you looked up to for so long and gave you the courage to aspire for freedom.

You were finally where you belonged, and you were happy, with the one person you loved with all your heart, and went through so many hardships for, and you had nothing more to fear any longer, because nobody would be as stupid as to go against the rules of THE Demon King just to harm you.

Especially not while he always had his arms and wings wrapped protectively around you.

#obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x seraph #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo imagine #obey me diavolo x angel #fallen angel #fallen #diavolo #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagine #diavolo x reader #diavolo imagine #angel x demon

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benedictscanvas · 5 years ago

Text

just you and i - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: this is a fluff fest without reprieve - read at own risk

A/N: I cannot stop writing fluff, I swear. Sorry all y’all angst lovers, but it just isn’t my scene. Here’s a super self-indulgent wedding fic since I’m not feeling my best and wanted to imagine a wedding with Spence where not everything goes to plan - in the best way. Enjoy loves! :)

---

It wasn’t that you were panicking. Not as such. You’d wanted to marry Spencer for a very long time, had been waiting for this moment for longer than you ever hoped you would have to because your jobs had postponed your own wedding no less than four times. But now, as you sat in your wedding dress alone and looked out the window, watching people arrive just hours from the big moment, your heart rate spiked.

It turned out there was a lot of people that you didn’t even know you’d invited that were showing up to celebrate. It was sweet of them to come...but it was also completely ridiculous and overwhelming when you had no idea so many people would be here.

Curse you for leaving most of your wedding planning to other people.

Your bridesmaids had left you to some alone time, Emily suggesting that it might be nice for you to have a moment alone to take in the magic of the day. It had been a sweet thought at the time, but now you were beginning to rethink it.

Without much thought, you dialled your favourite number and waited.

“Is everything alright?”

He answered on the first ring and sounded just as flustered as you felt. You supposed it wasn’t exactly normal to call your future husband on the morning of your wedding.

“Of course, sorry Spence, everything’s fine,” you breathed, quick to reassure him, and you heard his breath of relief with a twinge of guilt, “I- well I just-”

He heard the tone in your voice as clear as anything.

“I’m coming to find you.”

His voice was hushed, and you warranted that Derek was probably with him. He hung up quickly and you put the phone down, wondering whether this was a good idea. But you’d never been one for superstition and you knew that you were going to spend the rest of your life with the man you loved whether everything went well today or not.

Before you knew it, there was a knock on your door. He was only down the hall of the hotel after all. When you opened the door, you saw him with his hand over his eyes and you grinned, pulling him into your room before any of your bridesmaids could see and reprimand the two of you.

“I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” he said worriedly, still clamping his hand tightly over his eyes. You laughed, slowly pulling his hand away from his face and letting it fall limp by his side. His eyes were still screwed shut.

“Spencer,” you murmured softly, watching him with a smile that was as fond as it could be. He looked so pretty, “Would you please open your eyes for me? I’ve already looked at you and, damn I’m glad I have.”

He was grinning, just like you’d wanted.

“That’s not the superstition, the whole point is that the groom isn’t supposed to-“

“Baby,” you muttered, taking his face in your hands with all the tenderness you held for him, “Please?”

He opens his eyes and now he looks infinitely more pretty than he did before. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you with a love you never truly believed you’d find and winds his arms gently around your waist.

“You look beautiful, angel,” he whispers, only for you, his voice choked. You try to hold back your own tears as you kiss him, pulling him into you with fervour. When you pull away, you keep him close, temples pressed together as his lips graze your ear. You shiver.

“Why are we having a wedding, Spence?”

That probably came out wrong. His closeness is gone quickly and it’s all you can do not to clamp him back to your chest again. His eyes are wide and the fear within them is plain as day.

“What?”

“Oh god, sorry, that’s not how I meant that to come out...at all,” you struggled for the words, feeling all your earlier anxieties piling on top of you again, “I want to marry you more than anything in this world Spence, you know that, but why did we agree to have a wedding? And such a big one too!”

He was relaxed again, thank goodness. You decided you really needed to stop scaring him shitless on what was guaranteed to be the best day of your shared lives.

He considers your question properly before he answers. It seems he comes to the same conclusion that you do.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think we got swept up in what everyone else wanted.”

“Right?” you agreed, “It’s like just because we have busy jobs means that we basically went along with what everyone suggested. We were so stupid!”

“So stupid!”

He laughed and you joined him in it. This was what you wanted for your wedding. Just you and Spencer. Simple. It was what you wanted for the entirety of your marriage.

“You know what I would’ve been happy with?” you ask, a playful smile on your face that he just can’t resist as you reach for him again, winding your arms up and around his neck while his encircle your waist with all the warmth in the world.

“What’s that?”

“You. Me. The conference room. Couple of strings of fairy lights.”

“That’s it?” he asked, still with that smile on his face that was formed of awe. Awe that all you really wanted was him, that all he really wanted was you. He would never get over it.

“And cake, of course, I’m not a monster,” you said with a giggle as you let your forehead fall forward onto his chest, “I just want to be your wife, Spence, and I didn’t imagine doing it with the entirety of Penelope’s contact list out there.”

“Did you see Kevin arrive?”

“Kevin’s here?” you asked indignantly, then with a sigh, “I’ve spoken to him twice in my life, I’m pretty sure.”

“Three times,” Spencer says, because of course he remembers and you swat him gently for correcting you, even though he knows you love it, “He’s even got a plus one.”

You buried your head as far into Spencer’s chest as you could manage with a loud grumble. He laughed at you softly before pressing a placating kiss to the top of your head, and another for good measure. Another just because he wanted to.

“You know who else is here?” you asked, picking your head up to look at him again (you missed his face), “That woman from the case in Dallas. You know, the one that Penny liked and jokingly invited to our wedding over the phone?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I watched her walk in a few minutes ago….with a plus one.”

“No way,” Spencer breathed and you nodded pointedly. You loved gossiping back and forth with him like this. It made you forget where you were, what you were wearing, how itchy the back of your dress was, “How many plus ones did Garcia give out?”

“By the looks of it, everyone got one. The plus ones have their own plus one for fuck’s sake!”

There was a pause as Spencer smiled at your outburst, until you were smiling back at him and soon you were kissing all over again. It didn’t take much. Your hands are in his hair, rooting themselves in the strands, as his splay themselves across your back and leave goosebumps in their wake. Every nerve ending is on fire and suddenly you know exactly what you’re going to do next.

You pull away from his suddenly, despite his silent protest as one hand comes up to cup your cheek and bring you back to him, eyes still closed. You stay firm, plant your hand on his chest until he opens his eyes to look at you. He still looks like he just wants to kiss you senseless.

“I have an idea,” you propose slowly, running your hand up his chest, to his neck and back down again, “Feel free to shut me down, though.”

He tilted his head, a grin worming its way onto his features.

“Shut you down? Never.”

---

You’d gathered up the team with whispered voices and hurried gestures. Sneaking around corners and insistent shushing when they tried to argue with you. Eventually, you had everyone gathered in one of the rooms of the hotel, a few floors above where you were set to get married.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Derek hissed at you, when you and Spencer stood in front of them all, hand in hand, just grinning, “You’re getting married in-” he checked his watch, “-just under 2 hours. Unless you’ve called it off?”

He only said it to rile you up but it worked. You grabbed hold of Spencer’s arm with your other hand and snuggled up to his side as you glared at Derek.

“Of course we haven’t, idiot,” you glowered, which only made him chuckle, “But we’re not getting married here.”

Penelope looked like she might be about to faint.

“What?!”

“I’m so sorry Pen,” you said sympathetically, “You’ve done such an amazing job with everything but...it’s not us, you know? There’s so many people here!”

“Yeah, all your friends!”

“The woman from Dallas?” you asked and she pressed her lips together.

“Okay, fair,” she said quickly, “But I just wanted two of my favourite people to have the best day ever full of the very best people ever!”

“And we will,” you insisted with a smile, “But just, not quite yet. We’ve got a plan first.”

“A plan?” Dave asked, looking exasperated, “You’ve not cared about the details of this wedding for months, but now you have a plan?”

You and Spencer looked at each other. Grinned.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Spencer said, breathless.

There was a collective groan from the whole team.

---

By the time Emily and JJ had been sent into the venue to retrieve every spare string of fairy lights they could, Derek and Hotch had hung them between the trees and Rossi had come around to the fact that he’d be delivering the wedding outside rather than inside, everything was perfect. Any sense of panic had vanished. You’d kissed Spencer goodbye half an hour ago, and now you were stood arm in arm with Hotch a little way from the clearing you’d found in the woods.

There were woods right next to your venue, it seemed. How perfect. And just out of view of all the guests that were now waiting impatiently. Despite how many horrible things you’d all seen happen in woodland areas over the years, it didn’t matter now. These woods were pristine and new and about to become yours forever.

“Ready?” Hotch asked you quietly, nudging you out of your trance. You beamed at him.

“You know how long I’ve been ready for this,” you chuckled, emotional already.

He had tears in his eyes too. The softie.

“Then let’s do this.”

You walked until you were in the makeshift aisle. And everyone who needed to be there, was there. Particularly? Spencer.

Right there at the end of the aisle. In the tuxedo you’d already seen him in, but with new tears in his eyes and a watery smile. You laughed despite yourself, already crying. You swore you wouldn’t. He laughed too. You even made a joke about pulling Hotch along with you, desperate to get to the end of the aisle, to which everyone laughed, JJ through some pretty loud sobs. You’d never have made that joke if this wasn’t just family.

An eternity later, you were facing Spencer, hands held tightly in his. Both crying. Everyone was now. Rossi had to compose himself before beginning his speech. You hardly heard it. You were looking at Spencer. All you wanted to do was look at him forever and ever.

Rossi hurried through everything he was going to say. He’d been promised he could do it properly when you made it to the actual ceremony, which you were still going to do, because you couldn’t fathom telling everyone in that hall that you wouldn’t be attending your own wedding because you’d rather not have all of them present for it.

When it came to the vows, you decided to come up with some on the spot, just for this little special version of your wedding. You could do the regular vows later. This mattered now.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, to use your full title,” you giggled as everyone laughed, and Spencer squeezed your hands with an elated grin. He still hadn’t stopped crying, “I didn’t know there was a feeling like this until you walked into my life. You quickly became my entire world, before we even started dating. I just adore you. All of you, every bit. I can’t wait to- to do the whole of life with you. I-I love you so much.”

The awkward phrasing of your last sentence was mostly due to the fact that you were quickly breaking down. Spencer was crying at your words, right there in front of you, so how were you supposed to do anything but cry with him. He wiped your tears with gentle, trembling hands.

“I love you so much,” he said shakily, clearing his throat to carry on, “There was a time, as you all know, when I definitely thought I was just one of those people who ends up alone.”

You sniffled at that, because it was one of the least favourite things that he tells you about sometimes.

“Spence,” you whispered, smiling sadly at him and he shook his head with a smile.

“What I’m trying to say, is that my world was black before you came into it. But none of that matters now. All that really matters is that this is actually happening, with our family around us, and the rest of our lives ahead. Having a soulmate, in the traditional sense, is a ridiculous thing to claim, but it’s ridiculous to me that someone like you truly and unconditionally loves someone like me, so maybe we all need a bit of ridiculous. You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I love you more than anything. Our life together will be…”

It was him who was choked up now, unable to finish his sentence. You could still hear JJ sobbing in the background, but now she was joined by Penny and Derek. Derek was a mess. Hotch was doing better, but only marginally.

“Perfect,” you muttered, taking his face in your hands, “Our life will be perfect.”

He swooped in quickly, tears still fresh on his cheeks, lips on yours and hands on your hips before you could register it. You pulled away quickly and shook your head at him with a laugh.

“Not yet Spence!” you cried, laughing along with Rossi beside you who could barely contain himself.

He looked a little put out. His hands were itching to grab you.

“Sorry,” he muttered lowly, like a scolded child and you placed your hand on his face to remind him. Just a few moments, my love.

It didn’t take long, but it felt like you were waiting a lifetime for Rossi to tell Spencer to kiss you, finally kiss you. He was worth the wait. Worth every wait. His arms tightening around you, he managed to lift you from the floor despite the weight of your dress, and you giggled against his lips.

“Wife,” Spencer mumbled. Breathless. Wonderfully breathless. You found your breath had left you too, especially when he said the word. You were his wife now.

“Husband,” you chuckled as he put you down gently and you tuned back into the world around you, the cheers and hollers from your BAU family, the now familiar sound of sobbing mixed with joyful laughter. You held Spencer’s hand as you turned to face them with watery smiles. Squeezed it in your own and received a tight squeeze in return.

This was what you wanted. Simple. Just you and Spencer. Forever.

(you eventually made it to your actual wedding, and did the ceremony all over again in front of everyone, even though you were already married. an extra secret between your family, and an extra moment too. you didn’t always get a lot of moments)

(besides, why marry the love of your life once when you could marry them twice?)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid

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triviareads · 4 years ago

Text

The Becoming of Charlotte Bridgerton (And the Continuous Outrage of Anthony Bridgerton)

For Kate and Anthony 2021 Week, Day 6 Prompt: "Make me".

The Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton prided themselves on being excellent hosts. Bridgerton House was forever teeming with friends and family during the season, and as their children grew older, their home became a veritable haven for the young people-

A haven Kate presently found herself eavesdropping on along with her very irritated husband.

To be fair, it wasn’t exactly her fault. She was looking for Charlotte and could not find her anywhere in the house. Somewhere along the way, she had run into Anthony who also looking for their daughter (presumably to gift her with yet another expensive bauble, Kate thought, rolling her eyes. Anthony always did dote on the girls).

After exhausting themselves, Kate struck upon the idea of looking in the library, where Miles was entertaining. Her hunch proved right when the Lord and Lady Bridgerton peeked through the shelves to see Miles, his cousins David, the Earl Clyvedon, and Lady Caroline Findlay-Watt; as well as Mr. Arthur Granville, James De Courcy, the Earl of Clairmont; and Charlotte, sitting right there with the rest of them, taking part spiritedly in their conversation as if such behavior was perfectly normal for a girl who had barely completed two seasons.

“What is she doing with Miles's friends?” Anthony whispered after a requisite scandalized gasp.

“Talking, I believe,” Kate said wryly, choosing wisely to ignore the fact that their daughter had helped herself to a finger of whisky.

“But she is alone! In a roomful of young men!” Anthony spluttered and moved to rush forward in what Kate assumed was a bid to rescue his sweet, innocent daughter from the clutches of these men (and Caroline).

“My dear,” Kate said, restraining him, “both Miles and David are there, and Caroline is chaperoning her.”

Anthony threw her a dry look. “This is Caroline we are speaking of.”

Kate was privately inclined to agree that perhaps Lady Caroline Findlay-Watt (formerly Lady Caroline Basset) was not the best chaperone in that she was far too permissive and her circles ran too liberal.

Nevertheless, Kate shushed her husband. “I want to see what our daughter has to say. We so rarely get to see her among her peers.”

It was true- what their eldest daughter did with her time ever since she debuted was something of a mystery. Of course, she attended the requisite balls and other events with Kate, but Charlotte was all too happy to be taken around by her older, married Hastings cousins, something Kate was secretly thankful for, because she knew they would give her the sort of social advantage even Kate could not offer her daughter.

Anthony grumblingly agreed to Kate’s command and fell silent.

“-All shoring up for it,” David was telling the group seriously. “I do want to remain optimistic, but as Lady Holland recently put it, it is no longer a matter of if, but when.”

He then turned to Charlotte, who was too busy staring at Lord Clairmont, and had to be called on repeatedly to elicit any response. Kate glanced at Clairmont, long-limbed and elegant, taking note of how his posture was subtly inclined towards her daughter.

Charlotte was eventually pulled away from her thoughts. “What?” she blinked and asked. “Oh yes, I agree- this government will fall.”

David cackled at this. “Good lord, Charlotte. You sound positively Jacobin when you say it like that.”

“One would think your namesake was Mademoiselle Corday and not the late queen,” Miles teased his sister.

Charlotte, who always took great pleasure in extending a joke, said wryly, “I suppose we’ll only truly know if I ever feel an inclination to assassinate any of you in your bathtub.” This roused a hearty laugh from the group.

Anthony snorted quietly.

Clairmont, who had been silent up until that point, spoke. “I should like to hear what Miss Bridgerton has to say on the matter.” He looked directly at Charlotte who, to Kate’s amusement, blushed ever so slightly. Kate wondered whether the blush was due to the pleasure of having her opinion asked after, or if it was something else entirely…

Kate had her suspicions.

Charlotte spoke. “I know David mentioned the current financial crisis, but I recall someone recently mentioning that the the Jamaica Bill was something of a turning point. Ever since then, all I seem to read in the papers is how tenuous a coalition the current government is comprised of.” Charlotte shrugged and concluded, “I suppose it’s easy to overlook because the bill ultimately passed, and the Whigs did remain in power, though no thanks to Parliament itself.”

Kate glanced at Anthony after this little speech, and to her amusement, she could tell he was riveted.

“Ah, the crisis of Her Majesty’s bedchamber!” Miles said spiritedly. “The only reason the Whigs prevailed!”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her brother. “Crisis of the bedchamber- you make it sound far more tawdry than it really was, Miles.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that, cousin,” Lady Caroline said mischievously. “I can say with confidence that Amelia’s father-in-law had a public temper tantrum at the Lords when the news emerged that Amelia would not, after all, be one of the queen’s new ladies.”

Mr. Granville asked, “Lady Lowestoft’s father-in-law is… the Earl of Norwich, I think?”

Caroline nodded. “Yes. From my understanding, he lobbied Sir Robert rather hard for Amelia’s position.”

“And Amelia was crushed by the outcome, I’m sure,” David said sarcastically to his sister.

Caroline smirked, “Hardly. Now Norwich on the other hand…”

Lord Clairmont said emphatically, “I have seen that man enough in the Lords to understand exactly what you mean, Lady Caroline.”

“And would you account for Lord Norwich’s poor behavior on the account of some personality deficit, or merely the fact that he is a Tory?”

“A combination of both, my lady,” Clairmont assured her, to everyone’s amusement.

“Norwich was always a bit of a prig,” Anthony muttered to Kate.

Miles, eager to give his opinion on the matter, spoke. “I suppose that whole fracas can ultimately be attributed to Her Majesty’s unwillingness to back down rather than the strength of any one political party.”

“But even that is wholly political, Bridgerton,” Clairmont argued. “Did Melbourne not purposely provide the queen with Whig intimates so she could grow close to them and come to rely on them?”

Miles shrugged. “The queen still could have disliked them. It is hardly Melbourne’s fault if they genuinely grew to become her confidantes.”

“And I should think that you would be the last person to complain about such a thing, Clairmont,” Granville pointed out.

Clairmont grinned. “Oh believe me Granville, I’m not complaining.”

“I thought it was rather admirable for the queen to stand her ground on the matter,” Caroline opined. “One forgets that despite all her grand titles, she is still a woman of one-and-twenty who is being advised by men thrice her age.”

Charlotte smiled at her cousin. “I agree. By all accounts, Her Majesty has proven herself to be quite set in her ways, which is rather impressive.”

“Stubborn could be another way to put it,” Miles teased his sister, who pulled a face at him.

Kate stifled a laugh. Despite their ages, her children could reliably be counted upon to torment one another in little ways.

“Was the queen always like that, Caro?” David turned to his sister and asked. “Weren’t you invited to socialize with her some years ago?”

Caroline laughed. “I’m the last person you should ask, David. The Duchess of Kent nearly booted me out of the princess’s twelfth birthday party because I was too high-spirited and steered her daughter clear of me the entire time. Charlotte, on the other hand, was a perfect angel and played dollies with Princess Victoria for a quarter-hour while the rest of us watched enviously.”

“You remember that?” Charlotte asked delightedly. “All I can recall is the duchess staring disapprovingly at the lot of us- that and the cake.” She said in an afterthought, “To be fair, I was only nine.”

“I’ve heard rumors that the Duchess of Kent had some whiggish sympathies,” Lord Clairmont said thoughtfully. “I wonder if the queen showed any such inclinations early on?” He towards Charlotte.

Charlotte laughed, high and bright. “What would you like me to say, my lord? That the Princess Victoria showed some affection towards little Frances Cowper at her birthday party and therefore was converted to our Whig cause for life?”

“Our cause?” Anthony raised his brows towards Kate. “Did our daughter suddenly decide on a political affiliation?”

Kate shrugged, somewhat confused at so partisan a statement coming from her daughter.

Lord Clairmont chuckled, knowing he had been routed by Charlotte, though in a thoroughly charming manner. He grinned at her and said, “I wouldn't put that past Lady Cowper- pardon, Lady Palmerston. I still forget she remarried.”

"You might be the only person in all of England who still makes that mistake, sir," Charlotte told Clairmont dryly, "for the rest of us have been calling her Lady Palmerston for years."

The room roared with laughter at this.

Kate’s jaw dropped at so ribald a joke coming from her daughter- however artfully it was said.

Anthony choked and very badly attempted to stifle his coughing. “Good God!” He spluttered in an undertone. “I ought to go out there and trounce-”

Kate broke in sharply, “-No you will not- For heaven’s sake, show some restraint, Anthony!”

“Restraint?” Anthony repeated belligerently, and then said with a defiant gleam in his eye, “Make me.”

Kate gave him a lethal smile, fairly certain she knew what sort of persuasions her husband was open to, but she would not give him that satisfaction- not yet, at least.

“Oh I have no doubt I can,” Kate smirked. “For example, what if I told you I expect there to be an understanding reached between Charlotte and Lord Clairmont any day now?”

Anthony’s eyes widened to an almost comical extent and he gawped at his wife. “What?” he hissed. “How could you possibly know this?” His gaze flickered between Charlotte and Clairmont, as if were attempting to make out some visible attachment between the two unsuspecting young people.

“Because I am her mother,” Kate said, looking very smug. “And she told me herself, in other words.”

“She never told me,” Anthony said petulantly.

Kate raised her hand to pat his cheek in a conciliatory manner. “My dear, she knows you too well in that you are hardly tact personified.”

“But that Clairmont fellow!” Anthony whispered, glancing back at the man in question. “He’s so… staid.”

“I think she rather likes him for it,” Kate said thoughtfully, watching as Clairmont continued to be rather sweetly solicitous of Charlotte and her opinions.

And then, purely to torment her husband, she said, “Keep your schedule open, Lord Bridgerton. I would not be surprised if the earl comes to call on you shortly, if this little conversation is anything to go by.”

Anthony growled, broke free of Kate’s grasp, and before she could do anything, he strode forward.

#kateandanthonyweek #kateandanthonyweek21 #Bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #kathony #bridgerton fanfiction #miles bridgerton #charlotte bridgerton #david basset #caroline basset #victorian era #british politics #dadthony

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 4 years ago

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To never being parted - Part 2 Chap 4 - The Birthday Party

This is the Chapter 4 of the mini sequel to my flower cards inspired Kitty Fan Fic “Am I Forgotten?”

AO3 Link here.

****

As it turned out, Jace absolutely loved his surprise. He jumped in the pop-out cake to hug Kit, who pushed him away, and they ended up rolling and wrestling amidst the vanilla buttercream, with a crowd of onlookers cheering. The most enthusiastic was Mina, who shrieked with delight during the entire fight.

They both had to change after that, which was a relief. Tessa had to hastily recover Kit’s dress from Mina, who had undertaken to lick the fabric drenched in vanilla frosting.

The party was as decadent as any party organized by Magnus Bane could be. Dark blue velvet banners hung from the ceiling, stitched with the design of stars which seemed to shine, as if the guests were standing under the night sky. Candles glowed from every surface. Magnus had magicked up a small playground for the kids in one corner of the room, far from the chocolate fountains.

Kit carried Mina around on his shoulders for two solid hours before she finally asked him to put him down. When he did, she whispered in his ear. “When I am older, I am going to marry that tall and handsome Centurion bodyguard who has been following us everywhere… He takes such good care of my big brother.” Kit felt all the blood drain from his face.

****

The dinner table was covered with food from all around the world but Kit settled for a burger. He noticed that Julian had made the same choice although he saw him slip his lettuce to King Kieran, who had decided to make an appearance for Jace’s birthday party. He was seated between Mark and Cristina, and both were trying to get him to taste Mexican food. He shot Julian a grateful look.

“So, has Ty been sleeping in front of your bedroom, as he used to in Los Angeles? That was so cute!” Cristina asked Kit, in a cheerful voice.

“Of course not”, Kit replied. “He is absolutely welcome to my bed now.”

Everyone around the table froze before turning to look at him. Shit. Did he say that out loud?

Kit moved his gaze towards the only person whose opinion mattered in the case.

Ty, who was seated next to Dru and Jaime Rosales, was staring at him open-mouthed, his cheeks flushed. Oh well, thought Kit. I am not taking it back anyway. If I said I was joking, Ty would take it literally. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?

Kit shrugged and went back to eating his burger.

****

After dinner, there was a cluster of girls around Lily Chen, who was seated on a chair flaunting the Hot Shadowhunters calendar, as if it was the best book of the year.

She had decided to publish a first edition, as an experiment, in an attempt to boost the Clave’s revenues. Alec had been reluctant at first, but even he couldn’t deny the incredible success of the calendar after only a few weeks of sales. It had been sold to both Shadowhunters and Downworlders, entire stalls being dedicated to it in several Shadow Markets around the world.

King Kieran himself had bought several to add to his collection which included kitten and mundane firefighters calendars.

“So, of course we have Jace for the month of January. That one - and Mark Blackthorn’s - were the easiest pictures to obtain,” Lily explained as she enthralled her audience by flipping through the pages of the calendar.

On the front page, Jace was almost entirely naked, a well positioned sword covering his most intimate parts. Mark was just as barely dressed, poetically covered in roses and thorns.

“I had to negotiate with Magnus for Alec’s picture but as it turns out, I am quite happy with what he provided.” Magnus winked. In the picture, Alec was half naked, his muscles flexed as he was pulling an arrow to his bow. His skin was covered with black marks which stood in stark contrast with his white skin.

“Here we have Jem. Although he is officially retired from the Clave, we couldn’t do this without him. He is much too popular with the Shadow Markets’ crowd. He is only half naked of course, but compared to what people used to see of him when he was a Silent Brother, this looks like porn.” Most of the girls giggled.

“This is Simon, it was easy enough to obtain a picture of him. I just had to offer him a limited edition of a light-saver…”

“A lightsaber,” Isabelle corrected.

“Whatever. The most difficult one to obtain was Julian Blackthorn’s, of course,” Lily continued. “I had to hire a professional photographer…”

“You mean a paparazzi,” Emma interrupted.

“Emma almost broke his arm…”

“He was lurking behind a rock, taking pictures of Julian while he was surfing…”

“But apparently you both found an arrangement.”

Emma stared off into space. “He does have talent. He took amazing pictures of Julian on his surfboard… I made an album of them. He’s going to be our wedding’s photographer. Free of charge.”

“That’s my girl,” Julian said, raising his hand for a high five, though not moving his gaze from Tavvy.

Lily turned to Kit and Ty, then, pointing two fingers at her eyes and at them. “Now that you have come of age, I have got my eyes on you boys.”

Ty looked terrified but Kit only shrugged.

****

Kit danced with a lot of people. Mina, mostly, but also Clary, Isabelle, Emma, Dru, Aline and even Lily, who kept giving him a variety of nicknames. Mostly food-related. When he waltzed with Tessa, everyone stopped to observe their graceful twirls, and they were given a round of applause. Kit had to admit he was quite smug about it. Not a single dance with Ty though, who had mostly been hiding in a corner with his headphones on, his arms crossed, though a friend of Dru’s kept talking animatedly to him. He didn’t seem to notice.

After a dozen dances, Kit was exhausted and parched. As he moved towards the buffet to get something to drink, Emma and Cristina appeared out of nowhere to stand in his path, their faces alight with excitement. Kit had noticed that when Emma was not glued to Julian’s side, she was always running around with Cristina and Mark, like an iconic trio of besties.

“Welcome to the club,” they said in unison. Had they rehearsed that?

“What club?”

“The club of fearless warriors who decided to take the hazardous path of dating Blackthorn men,” Emma replied with an ominous voice.

“One word of advice,” Cristina said. “Get as much sleep as you can, while you can.”

“What?” Kit was puzzled.

“Hmmm, how to explain…” Emma put one finger on her mouth, her expression thoughtful. “Have you ever wondered why there are so many of them?”

“The Blackthorns you mean? Er- because they like kids?” Kit answered.

“True enough,” Emma replied, winking at him.

“What else is there?” Kit asked, as he had the feeling he was missing something.

Emma and Cristina burst into fits of laughter, clutching each other for support.

Kit shrugged and considered it as his cue to leave. Ty had already left the party an hour ago and Kit was wondering whether he should stop by his room to watch him sleep. Just a little peek. Ok, no, that was creepy.

As he was heading towards the door to leave the party inconspicuously, Kit was stopped mid-flight by a hand grasping his shoulder.

“Not so fast, Kit Herondale.”

Kit turned to meet Julian’s blue-green eyes. He was a different version of the Julian he had known.

The shape of his face was sharper, his features more chiseled and his luscious Blackthorn waves longer. There were no longer circles under his eyes and Kit had noticed that he had stopped biting his fingernails. He seemed happier, more rested. Almost… glowing.

Kit had to admit he was stunning. But I am already head over heels in love with his brother, Kit was reminded.

According to Jace, Julian had been a close and trusted advisor of Alec for the past few years, the Consul relying on him for war strategy and delicate political matters.

During the time he had spent in Los Angeles, Kit had witnessed how dangerous Julian’s sharp mind could be when he decided to use it. How deadly. And that was tired, restless Julian. Glowing Julian… their enemies would never know what had hit them.

Julian’s gaze moved to Kit’s chest, where the Blackthorn locket was resting.

“I see that Ty has given you his and Livvy’s pendant. I trust that you know what this means.”

His blue-green eyes were now boring into Kit’s, and Kit could not help but feel exposed, as if Julian was not looking into his eyes but straight into his head, accessing his mind.

“I do. This is it, for Ty. I am it . First and last. There won’t ever be anyone else for him.”

“What about you?” Julian’s gaze was still burning holes through Kit’s eyes.

Kit sighed. “You know what they say. Herondales love but once.”

“And you just realized that, where you are concerned, this is true?”

“No, Julian. I had already realized that three years ago.”

Kit turned to move, but Julian caught him by the arm.

“You already know what I am going to say next, don’t you?”

“Julian, I have witnessed what you were capable of in order to protect your family. I’d rather be facing the nine Princes of Hell.”

“Good,” was all Julian said, letting him go.

****

Tagging @darkkitai

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straight-into-the-animus · 4 years ago

Text

A Place For Crows To Rest Their Feet (French Fryes)

Cause some people were interested in the idea of older French Fryes apparently and I thought I’d try my hand at it.

Song title and fic inspo from Marbles by The Amazing Devil

Read on Ao3

Arno felt old.

Well, he was old. It was made sure of that when at his last milestone birthday that everyone decided to overload the cake with candles representing his age. He had been able to laugh it off as a joke then. But now everytime he looked in the mirror and saw a new wrinkle near his eyes and mouth, he scowled.

When he saw his favorite music being relegated to the classic station, he flipped the channel.

And when it was cold and rainy and shitty outside and he had difficulty getting out of bed, he grumbled.

Jacob always just laughed at his perturbed expression and would say that they didn’t need to get out of bed anyway and would snuggle in for a few hours more.

Even though he knew Jacob never meant anything by the things he said, it still made him feel bad. His husband was only a few years younger than him. But the problem was he didn’t look that bad, and if he felt old he never told Arno. He was already aging like fine wine. Arno felt like aged milk.

Jacob had noticed once before, when Arno pointedly avoided looking in the mirror while they were hip to hip in the bathroom getting ready for the day.

“‘ou a’righ’?” He asked around a toothbrush.

“Hmm?” He asked, toweling off and looking over as Jacob spat out the paste and washed his mouth out before trying again.

“You alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. You just seem… off. Didn’t even hear one ABBA song in the shower, either.” He smiled a bit, trying to get Arno to copy. Which he did, but it was gone rather quickly.

“I’m fine, mon amour. Just tired, still.” He wrapped the towel around his waist, pecked Jacob’s cheek and made to leave, but got pulled back. Jacob kissed him deeply, the taste of mint still on his tongue and making Arno hum; his husband’s mouth was still practically sinful after all this time. Jacob pulled away and then went back in for one more peck on Arno’s lips, leaving both of them smiling.

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.” Arno said, meaning it completely as he left to go get dressed.

He tried to make sure that was the end of it, or at least to keep it out of sight of Jacob. But then his pride went down like a kick in the balls when he woke up one morning and saw the roots of his hair turning gray. Like ash gray. Like old gray. He’d gone out to the shops immediately and found the darkest box color for his hair that he could and shoved it in the back of their linen closet the minute he came to his senses.

Really, it was a bad idea. If he did it, he’d have questions no one wanted to hear and explanations he really didn’t want to give. And Jacob would find out anyway. But it was an impulse purchase he didn’t think through and so he hid it until the time was right, if it ever would be.

And then Jacob noticed him as he entered the living room and let Arno in on their small couch to watch whatever inane reality show they both liked, and then he forgot about it, because how could you remember anything at that point?

It didn’t take too long for his husband to find it out, though.

“Care to explain this?” Jacob said, coming into the dining room where Arno was trying to clean, and Arno turned too quickly at the tone in his voice and stubbed his toes on the thick table leg.

“Merde-!”

“Jesus, Arno- Don’t try and die on me now.” Jacob went over quickly as Arno sat in one of the chairs, placing something on the table as he pulled up the other chair next to Arno’s. Arno waved him away and curled up his hurt foot to rub it.

“Don’t touch it.”

“Drama queen. Do you need me to get the first aid kit? Or do you think you’ll live?”

“You’re hilarious. Have I mentioned that before?”

“Only on days that end in “y”.” Jacob replied, and Arno stewed a bit. It didn’t take long for him to look over at whatever it was Jacob had brought into the room, and he grew a bit pale. Jacob, of course, because he had such a great eye when he wanted to, noticed immediately. “Figured it was yours.”

Arno didn’t grace him with a response at first. But the silence wouldn’t give.

“I found some gray hairs.” He mumbled.

“Yeah… Those tend to happen when you make it a few decades.”

“It doesn’t mean I have to like it! I don’t want to get old, Jacob. I’ll be… Gross, and senile, and you’ll hate me.”

“Please tell me you’re joking. You are joking?”

Arno flexed his hurt foot and quickly set it down, making to leave but stopped as Jacob grabbed his wrist and sat him back down in the chair.

“You know what I like so much about you getting old?” Jacob didn’t wait for Arno to answer. “It shows you made it.”

Arno almost made a rebuttal, but stopped when he tried to parse through the words and actually think about them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve known you for decades.” Jacob still held Arno’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “Since Uni. And you did the dumbest shit. I’m surprised we’ve gotten to this point without you needing a liver transplant.”

Arno looked down. He knew exactly what Jacob was talking about. He had been twenty two and having daily panic attacks about leaving university to actually be a person. Most relationships with girls and some guys were limited to one quick go in bed and then he was gone in the morning.

Jacob hadn’t been much better off emotionally, or financially, but at least he knew how to handle his shit better. They made an interesting match that way.

“You’re getting old because you’re alive. And I get to see that.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well it isn’t.”

Silence overtook for a few minutes as Arno looked down and Jacob studied him.

“Then I guess you must really hate me looking old.” Jacob said.

“I could never. And the difference is, you look good. You still have cute waitresses flirting with you despite the ring.”

“You mean from the diner last week?” Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Leanna had to be forty. And she was just being friendly.”

“She certainly wasn’t giving extra ketchup to me.”

“I would’ve given it to you.”

“So generous.”

“One of my best qualities.” Jacob murmured as Arno’s eyes remained dropped. A hand moved up to Arno’s cheek, and he realized Jacob’s pointer finger was tracing the lines near his mouth and the crows feet on his eyes. “Didn’t marry you for nothing, you know. I knew what I was getting into. And even if you turn out to be a grumpy old hunchback who can’t walk, I would still choose you if I had the choice.”

Arno felt his eyes start to glass over the longer Jacob spoke. It wasn’t some great speech. It was simple, and short, and matter of fact, and just… Jacob. Just as he had been for decades. And it sounded just as sincere now as it sounded when they were much younger men and first said they loved each other. And it was as sincere as when they had finally gotten married not even a decade ago. Arno had a shaky smile and squeezed Jacob’s hand, allowing the other one to keep exploring the tracks in his face.

“‘Sides,” Jacob purred as he leaned in closer, a gleam in his eyes, “being older just means you’re full of experience. And how could anyone say no to that?”

“Jacob-” He didn’t even know where he was going with his sentence, but it hardly mattered when he felt a warm pair of lips on his neck, making their way up his face. He turned his head at the right time and caught Jacob’s lips with his own. They both smiled, a soft thing.

“I love you.” Arno said.

“Love you too. Drama queen.” Jacob smirked as Arno rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Maybe stop putting up such high standards and I’ll consider taking a step back on my quest for perfection.”

“Sorry, I can’t. I gotta put in work to keep you in love with me. Sure as hell it isn’t my personality keeping you locked up.”

“Certainly not.” Arno snorted, leaning in and resting against Jacob. The man held him for a minute before speaking again.

“You believe me yet? That you’re good? And we’re good? Even if you get old?”

“I’ll work on it.” Arno admitted. Whether it was what Jacob wanted to hear or not, he was still welcomed in and let to rest for a while longer.

“Let’s move this to bed so we don’t stiffen up, eh?”

“You’re not going to carry me like you used to?” Arno asked teasingly as Jacob helped him stand up out of the chair. The man shrugged.

“Can’t. I’m too old.”

It wasn’t funny. It really wasn’t. But Arno laughed until he coughed, anyway.

They ended up throwing the box color out with much prejudice. And when Jacob started growing his own gray hairs, looking like a salt and pepper shaker, Arno just ran his fingers through each one while they watched inane reality television.

So. I ended up creating a whole other backstory for these two but found I couldn’t fit it in to the story, lol. If you’d be interested in that as well, let me know.

I hope you enjoy! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request! If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here but absolutely no pressure on that front. Have a wonderful day and thank you for reading!

#assassin's creed #french fryes #arno dorian #jacob frye #my writings

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nicka-nell · 4 years ago

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Aaaaaand my second req is sfw alphabet with Sugawara (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Sugawara Koushi: SFW-Alphabet

Waaah I am soo so excited because I am so happy about this request! ♥

Actually, I wanted to upload the Kuroo story first, but sadly my laptop thought that it doesn’t save the file before it crashes :’’). I’ve already written half of it again, but I’ll finish the rest tomorrow and then upload it. (because it’s already late for me)

I hope that’s okay :(

Buuuut now I wish you at least a lot of fun with the Sugamama-alphabet! *u*

Stay healthy and safe ♥♥

Easter Event (match-up/ sfw & nsfw-alphabet/ prompts)

A = Affection (little things they do to show love)

Since Sugawara works as a teacher, he always has to get up early. He prepares your breakfast by placing a coffee cup and a plate and cutlery on the table for you. In his first break, he writes you a sweet good morning message, with motivating words for the day. But most of all, he shows you his love by listening to you with full attention when you tell him something.

B = Beginning (how you met)

The first time you saw each other was at Ukai’s store. Sugawara and Ukai were just discussing some volleyball tactics for their team when you came to the store. Actually, all you wanted to do was ask for directions to the new cafe in town. But after Ukai gave you a complicated explanation of the way, which sounded more like a scavenger hunt, Sugawara said that he would accompany you there. So you went to the cafe, and as a thank you, you invited him for coffee.

C = Confession (how they confess)

He was a little nervous, although he was sure that he had interpreted your feelings for him correctly. Sugawara asked you if you want to go back to that cafe and wanted to confess his feelings there. However, the time was never right and his feelings for you remained unspoken. You were already standing on the doorstep and wanted to go to your apartment when Sugawara stopped you and reached after your hands. With a charming smile, he caressed the back of your hand as he gathered his courage and confessed all his feelings for you. His confession was honest and full of emotion. As if he wanted to show you everything about him.

D = Dating (what are they like on their first date)

On your first date, he wanted to have dinner with you, but he had so many exams to control that he had not made it out of school. So you had bought two servings of fried noodles and had visited him at school. Sugawara sat at his desk, you on top of it while you ate the noodles and talked. The exams were only secondary, because he only had eyes for you. From the outside he was calm, but inside his heart beat so loudly that he was afraid you could hear it. He kept apologizing for that screwed up date, which made you laugh. Even after years of your relationship, Sugawara likes to invite you on a date. Mostly they are rather intimate, only you both in quiet places with little or no people.

E = Evolution (how fast does your relationship evolve)

Very slowly. Not because he’s uncomfortable with changes, no. Sugawara enjoys every second with you and thinks you don’t have to rush into anything. He wants it all to be special that you will remember these milestones for a long time, and smile while thinking of them.

F = Fiancee (do they want to get married)

He definitely wants to marry you. Even if weddings become increasingly out of fashion, it is part of a relationship for him. He would love to see you in a wedding dress, and would cry inwardly with joy when you walk to the altar. Sometimes when he puts his signature under an exam, he leans back in his chair and silently mumbles your name with his last name.

G = Gentleman (how gentle are they)

Sugawara is very gentle and attentive. Whether it is his touch, how he gently lays his hand on your shoulder, or your conversations, where he’s just fixating on you. But he can also be rough, then only unintentionally, when you fight playfully and he accidentally kicks you out of bed because he forgets that he is much stronger than you.

H = Hugs (do they like hugs/cuddles)

It depends on where you are. At home, he loves to cuddle or hug you. Whether it’s small gentle hugs or swinging twists with you in his arms. He loves it to cuddle in the evening, before you sleep. But his favourite position is, you both are facing each other with your arms draped around your body’s. You can look each other in the eye. And that’s what Sugawara loves, watching you full of love while caressing your form.

I = I love you (how fast do they say it)

Unlike in the evolution of your relationship, it happened quickly when Sugawara said ‘I love you.’ for the first time. And even now he whispers to you every night a fond ‘I love you’ before he gives you a kiss on the shoulder and falls asleep.

J = Jealousy (how jealous do they get, what do they do when they’re jealous)

Sugawara is not jealous, he trusts you completely. But if it should come to a situation where he gets jealous, he would wave and come to your side with a broad grin to give you a smack on the cheek. He would also leave you quickly if you want to, but not without telling you how much he loves you. Hoping the person in front of you understands you are in a relationship with Sugawara.

K = Kisses (how are their kisses)

His kisses are usually playful and loving. Fleeting and brief kisses on the lip followed by a cheerful smile as he looks into your eyes is his way of affection. Tongue kisses are rather rare. In the beginning he was nervous and overwhelmed with tongue kisses, and had more often accidentally hit his teeth against yours, but he got better and better.

L = Light up (what do they do to make you feel better after a rough day)

If you have a bad day, Sugawara immediately notices it. He makes you a hot tea or chocolate and snuggles you in a warm blanket. He listens to you if you want to let all the negative out while he’s standing behind the sofa scratching your head. If you still don’t feel better after that, he stretches out his hand, tense it and knocks with the side of his hand on your shoulder, with the words ‘out with the negative energy!’

M = Mornings (how you start the day)

In the week you get up alone, because Sugawara has to get up before you. On weekends, he likes to lie in bed with you. Usually you get up before him, make a nice breakfast before you wake him up with the meanwhile bright sun rays. You have breakfast together while talking about what you are going to do today.

N = Nurse (how do they take care of you when you’re sick)

If you are sick, he will make you a lot of tea and bring you some of the delicious chicken soup his mother made especially for you. He always reminds you to drink and eat a lot, but leaves you alone in bed most of the time, since he knows you need rest to get fit again. Still, he checks the bedroom every hour to see if you need anything.

O = Open (when would they start revealing things about themselves)

Sugawara is more of a listener than a speaker. That’s why he reveals nothing unless you ask him to. He has no problem talking to you about himself, only he prefers to talk about you. Even in the beginning it was okay with him to reveal things about himself if you asked him.

P = Pregnancy (do they want kids, how are they in your pregnancy)

He definitely wants kids, but he isn’t pushy about this topic. Step by step. Sugawara would barely change in your pregnancy. He would just pay more attention to buying food that you can eat. He tries to be present at all gynaecological appointments, even if he does not always make it. Sugawara would be incredibly proud and would tell his friends about the fact that you two will soon have offspring.

Q = Quarrels (how is it to have a fight with them)

You don’t know exactly what it’s like to argue with him, since you almost have no quarrels. Sugawara always tries to settle everything as peacefully and adult as possible, so that there is no quarrel, since he hates it to see you upset.

At your wedding he is the happiest man on earth when he sees you in the beautiful dress before him. So damn happy that he’s crying. You have a small wedding, only with your closest friends and relatives. You have rented a room and spend your wedding there classically and comfortably, with wonderful food, a small wedding cake and calm music.

R = Rings (how do they propose, the wedding, the honeymoon)

His proposal was well prepared. Sugawara had recreated your first encounter. He called you to go to Ukai’s store, because he wouldn’t make it to the restaurant in time. He was just waiting for you to come through the door when Ukai asked if you were looking for the new cafe. At first you were confused, but you could tell from Sugawara’s smile that there is more behind all this. So you played along and Sugawara and you were back at the cafe. When he asked you the same questions as he did when you first met you thought this was the cutest date ever. But you were wrong. In the evening you stood at your doorstep, as he took your hands in his, playing with the back of your hand. It was just the same gesture as years ago, where he confessed his feelings. Yet, it was another kind of confession. It was a proposal full of love.

You spend your honeymoon at home. Because that’s where you feel most comfortable. You sleep long, start your day with cuddling sessions while you sit on the terrace until night afterwards, as Sugawara raises your hand and kisses the no longer empty spot on your ring finger with the words “My beloved Mrs. Sugawara.”

S = Secrets (do they keep secrets from you)

He has no secrets from you. Everything that matters, he tells you without hesitation. If he hides something, then only because he has forgotten to say it, so unintentionally.

T = Try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks)

He would put a lot of effort into the relationship. After all, he wants you to lack nothing. He loves to see you smile. You always go to a restaurant or cafe together after work. Also, he often gives you something, but mostly small things that have a deeper meaning. For example, a necklace which reminds you of your first vacation. He also does not shy away from daily chores, he makes breakfast, laundry and goes grocery shopping during the week.

U = Ugly (their bad habits)

He’s not a big talker, so he often carries his insecurity and negative feelings around until you talk to him about it. He often thinks that he didn’t deserve you. Another bad habit is that he distributes his pens everywhere in the apartment and never knows where he put them down.

V = Voicing (how hard is it for them to talk about their feelings)

It’s not really hard for him to talk about his feelings. Only he does not talk about them without being asked, because he finds them too unimportant and does not want to burden others with it. But when it comes to expressing his love for you, he does so without hesitation. He tells you how happy you make him every day.

W = Waking up (how is it to wake up by their side)

Waking up next to Sugawara can be nice but also exciting. He rarely wakes up before you, then strokes your cheek while watching you until you wake up. He greets you with his angelic smile and a gentle ‘good morning’. You cuddle for a while before you get up, have breakfast together and then get ready for the day. But most of the time you get awake through his arm in your face, his loud snoring because he’s lying on his back. You get up to let the bright light into the room because that’s the only thing that really helps to wake him up. While Sugawara is still busy getting up, you prepare breakfast and push the hot coffee into his hand while he strolls into the kitchen like a zombie.

X = XOXO (PDA, kisses or hugs in public)

He enjoys being close to you, but he’s not one to be extremely touchy. Most of the time, Sugawara walks beside you, always looking down at you to give you a friendly smile. But if you are in the city where several people are too, he likes to hold your hand or just your little finger. Also, he does not like to kiss you properly, because this beautiful look of you after your kiss no one but himself may see. But he likes to give you a smooch on the cheek to say goodbye, or hello, or if he notices men are watching you.

Y = Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

In general, Sugawara hates arguments. He just doesn’t feel comfortable with them and doesn’t want to hurt the other person’s feelings and probably barley soup. In a partner Sugawara wouldn’t like it if you’re not self-employed or if you would dislike his friends.

Z = Zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs, does it change around a partner)

Sugawara always sleeps on his back. At first, it looked frightening how little he had moved, almost like a corpse. But you quickly learned that he uses his arms to stretch them all over the bed. Sugawara needs a blanket to sleep properly, and only a pillow because several would disturb him. During the week he tries to fall asleep around 10pm, but he rarely succeeds. Most of the time he stays awake into the night to correct exams or to write new plays for his team. Therefore, he often lacks sleep, which is why he probably wants to sleep for a long time on the weekend. What’s changed since he’s been with you is that he’s snuggled up with you until you fall asleep before he lies on his back again and that he is less awake into the night, since he always gets tired when he cuddles with you and then usually briefly falls asleep after you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #sugawara x reader #koushi x reader #nelas easter event

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Pea//it’s easy to say, but it’s never the same

Request: Hi do you imagines based off songs? If you do please can I have reader x sweet pea with the song somebody you loved by Lewis Capaldi where the reader and SP break up and SP is seeing someone else and the reader is missing him. Ty in advance xo

hey! i loooove this song! and i hope you love this!

Do you know when there’s so many things happening that you feel like you’re drowning? It’s just one thing after another and you feel like you’re sinking further and further. It becomes harder to break through the surface and breathe.

For the past three months you’ve felt yourself slipping, this time however, there’s no one to save you.

It started with you and Sweet Pea arguing, that evolved to him breaking up with you and you moving out. Things seemed to snowball after that, it was just one bad thing after the other until they all piled up into one really shitty, bad news snowman.

You learnt two weeks ago from a very reluctant Fangs that Sweet Pea was seeing somebody else. He’d practically whispered it, but as soon as you heard ‘Sweet Pea’ and ‘seeing somebody else’ in the same sentence, you knew exactly what he’d said.

He then proceeded to tell you that he’d met her and that she ‘seemed nice but not nearly as nice as you’. He made you swear not to tell Sweet Pea and you’d promised, not that it was that difficult. You were planning on avoiding him for as long as possible, which you were hoping would be for eternity.

But now you’re all together at a wedding. Its a couple you all know from school, Juliet and Rebecca, and despite sitting through a very lovely ceremony, where both brides looked amazing, the only thing you could look at was him...well the back of his head. And the icing on the wedding cake? He brought her with him, and you’re here alone.

Sweet Pea would usually be the one to help you with this stuff. Whenever you felt yourself falling, he was always there to pick you up. To hold your hand and tell you that you can get through this. But he’s not holding you’re hand. He’s holding hers, and they both look so happy.

You don’t know what you did to the universe to piss it off so much, but apparently whatever you did warranted a pretty big punishment. Because not only did he bring her with him, you’re also sat opposite the two of them.

There’s four people in total between you and Sweet Pea, and it feels too close and too far at the same time. Fangs and his boyfriend Jake are sat on one side, and Toni and Cheryl sit on the other. The four of them exchange awkward glances to their other halves every so often when they think you’re not looking, and every time it makes you sink further into the satin covered chair.

Despite all the beauty and love that surrounds you, the only thing you feel is loneliness. The hall the reception is being held in looks amazing, flowers and fairly lights decorate the walls. There’s an abundance of cute little things for guests to do, from advice cards, to letters of love being posted in a tiny letterbox. Scattered around the tables are disposable cameras for guests to use and a photo booth sits in the corner beside the dance floor. You look at each of them longingly and let out a deep breath. The tables have a different flower sat on top of them, each of them meaning something to the brides. The table you’re sat at is sunflowers, and usually you love them, but now their brightness makes you angry. They are thriving in this environment, and your withering. Plus, it might just be you, but they all seem to facing Sweet Pea and that just makes you even angrier.

If you’d come here with him, you know for a fact you would have dragged him to look at everything, pointing at everything you liked and wanted at your own wedding. You would have stolen a flower from the centre piece to keep, treasured the photos from the photo booth and you would have danced more than you would have sat down.

Now though, you just want to go home, lie in bed and cry. You definitely look far too sad to be at a wedding, far too sad to be anywhere but in your bed to be honest. No matter how hard you try to plaster a smile on your face, it always wobbles when you catch sight of him.

He looks good.

His suit fits perfectly, and he’s got a little bowtie on which is a nice surprise. He’s changed his look slightly from the last time you saw him, his hair is no longer carefully styled, its fluffy and slightly curly and it takes everything in your power to stop thinking about running your fingers through it.

And her, she’s just as pretty. Her hair curled, her dress flowing and her lipstick? To die for. They look good together, really good and it makes you shrink further into yourself. The conversation flows around you and you feel yourself blend into the background.

“Excuse me!” Glass clinking from the top table stops all conversation and drags you back to reality. “Speeches!” Juliet cheers. “To my amazing wife. Can you believe you’re my wife? I have a wife! Guys...I’m married!”

“Get on with it.” Rebecca rolls her eyes at her, a soft smile playing on her lips as they look at each other. The two of them share a tender moment before Juliet turns to face the guests.

“Sorry dear.” She laughs. “To my amazing wife. When I met you at 15, I had no idea how much you would truly change my life. I only asked if there was anybody sitting beside you, I was scared and anxious about a new class where I didn’t know anybody and thought I would spend the rest of the year alone. But you said no, and some of my anxieties melted away. If only I’d known that that would set the precedent for the rest of our friendship, and then relationship. I am filled with anxieties, you know that better than anyone, but you’re always there to make me feel better. Right now, standing in front of our friends and families making this speech, I am terrified, but knowing you’re beside me, holding my hand and smiling, I know I can do it. In our vows, I said I’d take you as somebody to have, somebody to hold. And you can bet your sweet ass I’m going to take those seriously. I love you so much. To my wife!”

“To Rebecca!” Everyone cheers, raising their glasses. You force a smile, watching them kiss before Rebecca starts speaking, her brown hair falls in front of her face as she reads and Juliet moves it for her gingerly.

You don’t think you’ve ever longed for anything more. The softness and tenderness they have for each other has been there since they met. Its something that just comes natural to them. They love each other and everyone can see it, out of your school year, they’re the couple thats been together the longest.

You and Sweet Pea used to be like that. Nauseously cute to be around but actually the secret envy of all your other friends, single or not. Before this you used to be a romantic, the world was pink and red and full of hearts and joy. Now though, its just grey and sad.

Maybe you’ve always been cynical? Maybe Sweet Pea just helped you see the good in the world and now that he’s gone the effects have worn off. Like he numbed all the pain.

When you look at her, she’s so happy. A smile lights up her whole face and you wonder if thats how you used to look at him. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you down the rest of your drink.

“You okay?” Toni asks and you force a smile.

“Yeah.” You lie. “Just fine.”

----

The day has worn on and eventually fallen into night. You would have wanted to be home by now, but even if you had managed to escape, you wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

Sleep is rare now. It seems that if you sleep next to the same person every night for 3+ years, when they’re not there, its almost impossible. You wonder if he’s struggling to sleep too, if he’s finding an empty bed as tragic of you are.

Moonlight streams in through the delicate curtains and basks the room in a soft glow when it catches off the glittering decorations.

The speeches have been made, the cakes been cut and the couple have had their first dance, and through each of them you never saw their smiles falter. Not even just a little.

It seems you’ve become invisible. Fangs, Toni, Cheryl and Jake have long left you. Choosing to spend their time dancing and taking photos rather than sitting by you. You don’t blame them, you wouldn’t want to sit with your miserable friend at a wedding. You’d want to have fun and to celebrate.

They come over every so often to see if you’re okay, and you always say yes, no matter what. But as soon as they turn, your facade falls and you go back to longingly watching him.

You know for a fact you’re going to look miserable in the background of all the candid shots you’re in. Sweet Pea used to say that you looked beautiful no matter what, whether you were happy or sad or angry and annoyed. It was usually the latter when you would catch him taking photos of you, but a smile would always break through the frown making him grin and take even more.

You watch as he twirls her around, she spins and laughs before falling back into his arms and you feel yourself falling even further. There’s no words to describe how you feel, it just hurts. You’ve never felt like this before and you never ever want to again. You look around, desperate for someone to talk to, anyone to take your mind off the depressing situation you’re in, but there’s no one there. It feels like there hasn’t been for a while.

She laughs loudly, doubling over while she watches him do a ridiculously stupid dance. He’s grinning, his eyes bright as he continues, the dance becoming more dramatic as he watches her giggle. Your friends surround them, all four of them laughing and you pull your eyes away. No longer wanting to watch a memory that could have been yours.

Its only when you look down, your finger tracing the delicate pattern on the table cover do you realize that you’re crying. A single tear splashes on the white cloth, followed by another, and then another until you’re silently sobbing.

You wipe your tears, grab your bag and make a bee-line for the door into the hallway. You can’t escape quick enough from him, and her and everything.

Three months ago you could only escape with him.

----

“I thought I’d find you in here.” You pull your gaze away from the window and the stars, instead settling on the tall serpent leaning against the doorframe. Its the first proper interaction you’ve had with each other in months and you don’t know how to act.

Talking to him used to be the easiest thing in the world. You could talk for hours about practically everything and you’d still have more to talk about when you’re finished.

But now when you look at him, you just want to cry. You freeze, your throat closing as you watch him stand. He’s looking around the large room, a slight look of awe on his face, and to be honest, your expression mirrored his when you first walked in.

The decor is much different to the one that the reception is being held in. This is more grand. Its gold accents make it feel a lot fancier. In another world you can imagine great parties being held here, with people in masks and fancy gowns dancing the night away. A large chandelier hangs in the middle of the dance floor and when you stand underneath it, it makes you feel inferior. Its a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to though, its settled in your chest, something you carry around with you. That and a whole party bag full others, its not the main one, but its definitely there.

Sweet Pea makes his way across the room, pausing briefly under the chandelier and he looks far from inferior. If anything, its the other way round. To you, the chandelier doesn’t look worthy enough to shine above him. He looks at it the same way he looks at all things beautiful, like its a gift to the world and he’s the luckiest person to be able to see it. People used to say he looked at you like that, now you just see him look at everything that isn’t you.

You wonder if he feels the same about you, if he wants to cry every time he even thinks about you and him together, but the way he’s stood, the way he’s now looking at you, it seems like you’re the last thing on his mind.

What you would say when you saw him again has been the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last thing you think of before you eventually fall asleep. Its played on your mind in great detail, even down to what you would be wearing. Where you would be? What you would say? What would happen afterwards? But just forcing yourself to look at him, something you never had a problem with before, is now one of the most difficult things in the world.

His top button is undone and his bowtie has been loosened, you assume by his girlfriend, the thought of which makes your heart clench. His jacket hangs lazily from his hand while the other one runs through his hair.

“I needed to get some air.” You reply simply, deciding to look out the window again. Its easier than looking at him, even if the shadows of the trees and the hills that seem to roll on forever makes you a little uneasy.

“People usually go outside for air.” He tries to joke, but it falls flat and he sighs, and crosses the rest of the room. He sits beside you, leaving a noticeable gap between the two of you. “Who would have thought we would be here?”

“Juliet and Rebecca have been destined to marry since the moment they met.” You reply, not bothering to look at him. Your heart wants you to, it wants you look at him because ignoring him feels like a crime. But your head is keeping you from it, it doesn’t want to break your heart even more, and it definitely doesn’t want you to cry in front of him. The only thing worse than heartbreak is his pity.

“No, I mean like, here, but not together.” He corrects and you take a quick glance at him.

“Oh...I dunno.” You shrug, trying to study his face. Closer up he still looks as attractive, but there’s something else to him as well. His eyes aren’t as bright, his lips aren’t as full, he looks a little paler. He looks kind of sad, like he’s painted a facade over it and as the night has worn on, its started to crack.

The two of you stay silent. You watch him through the large mirror on the opposite wall as he counts the golden swirls painted above your heads. You remember a time when you were together, people wouldn’t be able to get a word in when the two of you were talking.

“A few years ago if me and Fangs had come in here, we’d be leaving with half the decorations and then be going halves on like, a million new bikes.” He tries to joke again, feeling hopeful that it might go better now that some time has passed. But what feels like twenty minutes has in reality only been two and it makes him huff.

The front he’s put on finally falling as he slumps in his seat. His back leans against the window and he shivers a little from the cold air.

“What happened to us Y/n?”

“I suppose I let my guard down.” You shrug, letting yourself look at him properly. Yep, he’s just as broken as you are. You thought it would make you feel better, to see him just as upset as you are. But it doesn’t. It makes you feel worse. But the worst thing about it is that you still take it all away from him if you could. “I guess, I thought things were alright between us when clearly they weren’t. And then you pulled the rug and now...this.” You gesture between the two of you and he looks at the shiny floor.

You turn to stare out of the window again. Your eyes close tightly as you take a deep breath. The sight of him feels like a stab in your chest, like someone has stuck a knife in and then twisted it.

You imagine yourself falling into his arms, his holding you gently, tracing patterns on your skin while pressing soft kisses to your forehead. A sad smile flickers on your face, it feels so close, so real. Safe in his arms...Until.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” You reply, your eyes opening, but you don’t look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Its okay.” You lie. “I understand.” you don’t

“And I’m sorry I brought Riley with me.”

“Its fine.” You eventually force a smile, not wanting to seem any more bitter than you probably already do. “You guys look cute together.”

“Yeah.” He laughs awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Its silent again, something settling over the room. Its a feeling that makes it difficult for you both to breathe. You look in opposite directions, both waiting for the other to make the first move so you can leave. Whatever heartbreak you were feeling before, is 1000 times worse now. If you were drowning before, now you’re long dead and washed up on the beach somewhere.

“How did you find me?” You ask and he looks at you surprised. He knew that whatever conversation he would have with you would be one sided, and so he wasn’t expecting you to ask him any questions. Not ones that weren’t hate fueled that is.

He also doesn’t know how to answer. Because the answer is weighted, and he’s not entirely sure he’s figured out the meaning of it yet.

He sighs and scoots a little closer to you, he looks at you before looking back at the floor while his hand reaches into his trouser pockets. After a few seconds he pulls out a polaroid and hands it to you.

Your eyebrows furrow when you recognize the person in it as you. Its a little fuzzy due to the lights, but its definitely you. You’re sat alone at the table, your chin resting on your hand as you look to the side of you. You look sad and you frown when you realize that is how you’ve looked for the majority of the wedding. But you’re frown deepens when you wonder what the hell he’s doing with this. He seems to pick up on this and quickly starts explaining himself.

“I borrowed Toni’s camera when she wasn’t looking, Riley had gone to the bar and so I was by the dance floor alone. I was looking around and saw you and well, you looked like that. I’ve always thought you looked pretty no matter what, but I dunno, there was just something about how sad you looked at such a happy event that made me want to capture it. I was just going to slip it into Toni’s bag when she wasn’t looking and hope she would just think she took it, but well I haven’t had the chance yet.”

Your speechless for a few seconds, your fingers glide over the photo and a few tears slip down your face, dropping onto the picture but you quickly wipe them away and hand it back to him.

“That doesn’t explain how you found me. This place is pretty big.”

“Afterwards I kept checking to see if you were still there. I kind of got a bit distracted by dancing but when I looked again you weren’t there so I came looking for you.” He admits shyly.

“I didn’t think anyone would notice if I left.”

“I always notice when you’re not around. Now more than ever I think.” It turns out that breaking up with you was the worst thing Sweet Pea has ever done, closely followed by asking you to move out. And it seems that bad decisions have been following him around for the whole 3 months.

Your speechless again as you look at him. His eyes catch yours and you feel yourself become breathless. The room feels so much smaller all of a sudden, you and Sweet Pea seem to be closer than ever. His eyes flicker to your lips for just a split second but you notice it and it makes your heart-rate increase.

Your whole body is screaming at you not to do this, its only going to hurt more, but when his hand cups your cheek and you lean into him you couldn’t care less. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his lips against yours. It still feels like you’re drowning, but in a good way this time. You never want this to stop.

Thats the thing about moments and feelings. They never know how to coordinate themselves. The things you don’t want, seem to last forever, and the ones you do are over in mere seconds.

He pulls away first, his eyes wide as he curses to himself.

“I’m sorry Y/n.” He shakes his head. The soft smile that had taken over your features, vanishes when you notice the way he’s looking at you. “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have done any of that.” He’s talking to himself now, repeating the words over and over again and its only now that you become angry.

“Actually.” You stand up. “Maybe you should have. Because apparently breaking my heart once wasn’t enough, you had to do it again. You broke up with me because of a few arguments. I can’t even remember what we were arguing about but you thought it was bad enough to finish a 6 year relationship. I loved you Sweet Pea, and stupidly, I still do. I have been waiting for you to come back and say you’re sorry. I’ve been waiting to take you back. But you got with somebody else.” You sob. “You found somebody else in three months after 6 years and you brought her with you. You’ve ruined every single memory of us, and now you’re ruining every thing else. You got the happy memories, the house, the friends and now the new woman. And what do I have?...what do I have?”

“Y/n.” He stands, reaching out to you but you shrug him off. Its the hardest thing you have ever done, but you walk away from him. You leave him standing underneath the chandelier, and it no longer seems as bright.

You glance back at him, just for one last look before you leave properly.

“I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved...and now I have nothing.”

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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