#sorry for wedding venting I’m just so tired | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 7 months ago

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never penelope, always calypso

pairing: leon x reader

cw: infidelity?, p in v, alcohol usage, oral sex, angst, smut, possible misuse of words, questionable metaphors, allusions to the odyssey (i'm cringe), pseudo-poetic nonsense

summary: leon is married to ashley and they have an open relationship. you become fwbs when he visits dc. accidental feelings happen

a/n: the title is a reference to the odyssey (no discourse/analyses allowed on this post!!)

wc: 5.5k

taglist: @rigorwhoring @porcelainseashore @mrswint3rs @dilfprayers @pawrincss

link to join taglist in bio! link to commissions & ko-fi in bio! link to ao3 in bio!

Winter 2012

You first meet Leon at a bar near your apartment. Outside, it's freezing, yet you order your drink on the rocks. Drunkenness makes your cheeks match your ears, rosy and slightly numb to the cold.

It’s been a rough day for you and the way Leon’s head hangs as he looks blankly into his glass - half-empty - lets you know that he’s in the same boat. He’s got blonde-ish hair, icy blue eyes, and a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His voice, low and tired, holds a sympathetic chagrin, subtle and genuine. He must feel your eyes on him because he picks himself up as best he can and smiles at you.

He’s not drunk. Neither are you, only tipsy.

“Hi,” you say because you’re not good with pickup lines.

“Hey. How’s it goin’?”

“It’s goin’,” you say because it’s the best way you can tell the truth without being too much of a downer.

“Not great, huh?”

“A complete shitshow if I’m being honest.”

“I can relate.” He thrusts his right hand out and you take it. His palm is calloused with a life much rougher than you’ll ever know. “I’m Leon.”

You tell him your name and he releases your hand from his grasp.

You recount your disastrous day and he laughs at all the right times and keeps his smile sympathetic for the rest of your story. He doesn’t say much about himself, and the next morning you worry you were venting, but you come to find over the years that he prefers to listen rather than to talk. He has unparalleled patience. He’s not like other guys. You’re just like other girls.

The one time he speaks over you is to insist to the bartender that he is paying for your drinks too when he asks to close his tab.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

He grabs his wallet from his back pocket and you notice on his left hand, a wedding band. It was all just friendly conversation, you realize. Your smile drops and you don’t have time to pick it back up before he turns to you.

“What’s up?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You give him a fake smile.

“You sure?” He probes you with minimal force. His questions never make you feel like you’re being interrogated, strapped to a metal chair despite the fact that a gun sits on his hip; not like an interview either with bright lights an audience; more like a surgery, penetrating, tearing and mending your organs while you’re numbed by alcoholic anesthetic.

“Mhm,” You respond. You are already falling into a dreamless sleep, breathing, but comatose.

“Okay. Do you live close? We could split a cab.” He places his hand on the small of your back and whispers while you walk to the exit, “Unless you want to come back with me to my hotel.”

You look at him, almost angry for her – the woman you don’t know – and yet, still wanting. He removes his hand quickly. “Whoa. I’m sorry. I clearly misunderstood the situation. I thought we were having a flirtatious conversation and that it was heading that direction. I apologize for overstepping your boundaries.”

“No, I was flirting, but…” You point to his left hand. “You’re married.” There is a part of you that is already willing. You’re his puppet, his ragdoll, willing.

“Oh, yeah,” Leon says with a smile, thinking of her. He holds up his hand, proudly displaying his wedding band. “I am married, but we have an open relationship.” He sounds so honest you’re tempted to believe him. But, there is still a sliver of your consciousness left.

“Prove it. I don’t want to be involved with a cheater.”

“Prove it? Alright. Would you like me to text her and ask if I can invite you back to my hotel room?”

“Sure.”

You don’t think he’ll do it, but he does. Her name in his phone has a heart next to it. You notice it when he shows you her response: Have a nice time :).

He calls her ‘baby’.

He calls you a lot of things during the act, but mostly your name once it’s over.

He calls you ‘gorgeous’ as in, “You look fucking gorgeous like that” When he looks into your eyes from above you. You’re on your knees with his cock down your throat while his hand holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail. You look gorgeous if gorgeous means messy - the mascara that was already smudged when you entered the bar mixes with tears and drips down your face. You look like a canvas drenched with paint water. Filthy and accidental. And in an abstract way, something that could be conceived as beautiful in the eyes of a downright horny beholder.

Leon holds your wrists above your head when he fucks you. His grip is firm just like yours is around his cock, though it’s not your intention. In fact, you want more of him, all of him.

He calls you ‘darlin’ as in,“Darlin’, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. I’m not gonna last like this.” When you’re on all fours and he’s feeding himself to you from behind. One of his hands guides his cock to your entrance while the other holds your hip – that one continues to steady you while he’s fucking you at a merciless pace. With the other, he runs his fingers through his hair – you can see him in the mirror, sweat beading on his forehead.

He calls you ‘babe’ as in, “C’mere, babe.” When he beckons you towards him, lying in bed with his head propped up enough to see you. “Want you to sit on my face”. When you comply and sit on his face, your thighs drown out his words but the noises he makes reverberate through your entire body. Much to Leon’s dismay, it’s the last orgasm you can handle that night. (You have to walk home tomorrow, right?)

There is a distinct difference between babe and baby. The difference being that he calls you one and his wife the other.

That first night, you go for three rounds, only stopping because Leon ran out of condoms and neither of you feel like going to the pharmacy to buy more. At least, not until the next day.

The next morning when his alarm rings, you grab his phone from the bedside table and hand it to him. You catch a glimpse of his lockscreen. It’s him with a woman. “Is that her?”

“My wife? Yeah.” He hands you the phone and lets you see her. She’s beautiful. More so than you. You understand why she lets him do this. And why he shows her off with no hesitation and a prideful grin. You’d brag about her too.

You imagine their first date, their wedding, the sex they have in their home that they share, and every other thing while Leon makes a trip to the drugstore across the street.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says when he climbs back into bed, “there was a long line at the checkout.”

It’s okay, you think, you gave me time to decide that it’s better if I leave now.

And yet, the second he lies down next to you, your decision changes. The prospect of lazy morning sex with Leon is too beautiful to resist. Even in retrospect, if it were purely about the sex, you wouldn’t regret any of it, it was even better than you imagined it would be.

When he takes the blue box from the plastic shopping bag and jiggles it in front of you, playfully asking the question, you nod. None of this requires words.

You sit up in bed, closing the gap between you and your objective, but he stops you. “Don’t get up. I’ll come there.”

He’s quiet despite the room being empty of sleeping children and nosy parents. The hustle and bustle of the city on Saturday morning covers up any sound. His wife knows anyway and she’s 1000 miles away. It’s for the sake of your ears, still acclimating to the ceaseless knocking at your eardrums that comes with being alive. He moves slowly, spreads your legs for you, removes your panties - the boring beige pair you wore to work the day before. He runs his hand over your folds like he’s petting a stray animal, getting you to ease up and let him in. Two fingers mold you to his liking. He fits you for himself despite being taken. He feeds your desire and sets you free when he’s finished. (You’ve finished too, so it’s not cruel, is it?).

He steps into the shower alone.

If getting some more material for your spank bank was your goal, then you accomplished it. Not just the sex but the sight of him with a towel around his waist, his toned body on display. It’s the first time you’ve seen it in the daylight. He only removed his pants when he fucked you from behind. And the night before, you only got a glimpse of his beauty in the dim of the lamp-lit room.

The ounce of self-restraint that remains in your being, holds you back from ripping the towel away from him and kneeling before him, begging him to use your mouth.

There is a piece of you that regrets not taking the opportunity while you had it. You would have another memory of him to fill the Leon-shaped hole inside you. Better yet, he could’ve called you pathetic and told you to leave, and ruined it all before your infatuation could turn into something worse. But, he wouldn’t do that. And that’s why you like him.

Summer 2012

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Well, honestly, it wasn’t supposed to be anything at all. You had each other’s phone numbers but no plans were made and the goodbye hug didn’t feel like a ‘see you later’, more like a ‘have a nice life’.

But a couple months after your first meeting, he texts you. “I’m in town. Are you busy tonight?”

You happen to be very free and though you denied it at the time, very infatuated with Leon. In your mind, it’s simply the fact that he’s the best sex you’ve ever had and none of it has to do with the fact that during the second night you spend together you’re mere centimeters away from love-making when he bites your lip, tugging lightly before he flips you over to fuck you harder. You know he knows, it’s too obvious for him not to know, that’s why he refuses to look into your eyes, opting to push your face - which he reminds you is gorgeous - into the mattress. Your mascara still runs while you wonder if he’s still thinking about you when your face no longer serves to remind him of the woman whose cunt he uses.

But that happens later. You meet at the same bar because Leon is oddly unfamiliar with the area despite having lived here years ago. Maybe he wanted to forget. That’s a question you never bother to ask.

“I was constantly working. I went out with Ashley on the weekends when she wasn’t busy, but she always picked the restaurant. So, you’ll have to be my tour guide,” he says.

You amble around downtown because you’re not decisive like Ashley. You didn’t prepare anything besides the matching set of lace under your clothes. In June, the sun stays up late, and though they say that certain crimes of the flesh are only committed at night, for the two of you daylight can be far more dangerous.

Simply fucking in his hotel room one night was well within the boundaries of whatever “this” is; however, kissing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial when the sun begins to set makes you feel like a teenager, being romanced for the first time and risking your overbearing parents finding out your dirty little secret. But, none of this is secret. Leon’s wife knows, passersby know, the statue of the 16th president of the goddamn USA who sits behind you knows.

But what truly feels wrong is how chaste it is, how his hands cup your cheeks like a chalice. In a crowded bar, you drink gin and tonics for the Eucharist. Tomorrow, you deal with the unholy hangover.

Still, you’re not sure if this is romance or friendship until you’re walking side by side and your pinkies inch their way closer until they brush against each other. You interlock them playfully for a second, but Leon pulls away rather than grabbing your hand fully. The one time he does take your hand, it’s to guide you through a crowd. He does not interlock fingers with you. He does not kiss your knuckles before he lets go.

Later you end up at your favorite bar because you are his amateur tour guide.

“If this is your favorite, then why weren’t you here the night we met?”

“Would you have preferred I were?”

“No. I’m just curious.”

“The other bar is closer to home. Quieter, too.”

You’re practically yelling at this point over the band that’s playing. It takes two drinks for you to stand up and dance. It’s not some sort of high school prom slow dance. It’s stupid and drunken, but Leon spins you around and his hands are on your body - the less intimate parts - for most of the duration. He doesn’t have to flirt with sensual touches because he doesn’t have to lure you into bed. You are already planning to accompany to his hotel room.

Usually, he is in town for a week at most, and busy for the majority of the time. You see him for a night or two each visit. However, one night after the usual routine of going to the same bar, drinking old fashioneds and Leon picking up the tab, he takes you to the apartment that he’s renting for the next 3 months.

“Three months?” you ask.

“Thought you’d be happy,” he says. “After you admitted that I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

“Cocky much?”

“Wanna find out?” He raises an eyebrow, daring you to take him up on his offer. He’s still unpacking in the bedroom, but you don’t find that out until later because you don’t make it that far into the apartment. You end up fucking on the couch. And then on the living room floor.

What you have is not romance but it’s dangerously close. You realize this when you accidentally take one of his t-shirts home and you wear it to bed again that night before washing it. Because it smells like him and you miss him. That’s not something you ever plan to admit to Leon, and because you don’t say it aloud, it’s not real. It’s only real when he says, “you should just keep a toothbrush here.”

So nonchalant that it catches you off guard. “What am I, your girlfriend?”

“Sorry for being logistical.” He huffs, though you can’t tell if he’s really mad or not.

On his next run to the pharmacy to buy condoms, he gets you the toothbrush.

It’s summertime and Leon has a balcony that overlooks the Washington Monument, so naturally, you eat your dinners outside. Leon cuts back on his drinking, so you often make lemonade instead – from scratch, like your mother used to.

Over dinner you ask him, “Why don’t you just move to D.C. if you spend so much time here?”

“I lived here for years – so did Ashley – and we both hated it. But her dad has a house in Vermont, and we spent our first anniversary there, and we realized we wanted to spend as much of our lives as we can there.” When he speaks, he doesn’t meet your eyes. He’s looking for the memory, reliving it with a smile on his face. You can feel the tranquility.

“Makes sense. If I had a father with a second home in Vermont, I would probably move there too.” Plus, I’m not tied to anything here. Except maybe you, Leon.

“It’s gorgeous in the summer. It sucks that I have to spend it here.”

“Wow,” you say, jokingly, “So, being around me really sucks that much?”

“No, you’re the only part of it that I like.”

You’re left speechless, flustered by his words, and you both know that he shouldn’t have said that despite the fact that it’s the truth.

“Anyway,” he transitions, poking at his salad, pretending to be incredibly interested in the lettuce in an effort to avoid your face. “This lemonade is great.”

“It’s my mother’s recipe. A little extra sugar.”

You take away the plates – his enthusiasm about his salad has faded. He stays on the balcony for a moment because he knows you want to do the dishes – “It’s kind of therapeutic,” you said to him. “Clean plates make you feel like your life is together”.

Regardless, when he comes in, he says, “You know you don’t have to do that.” because that’s in his nature. Other people make messes and he cleans them up.

“I know,” you say, and he doesn’t protest.

You have sex because it’s either that or watch TV. It’s rough and impersonal, and over relatively quickly.

And then, it’s five o’clock somewhere, and somewhere is right where you are, so you pull out a bottle and toast to something stupid like the sex you just had or the TV show you’ll watch until you fall asleep.

Leon doesn’t drink but when he does (which is only when he’s with you. Ashley doesn’t let him indulge like that because she’s more sensible than you are) your conversations venture into topics that you would typically shy away from. You find yourself talking to Leon about his sex life outside of you.

“Do you guys fuck, like, immediately, when you get in the door?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Depends on how long I’ve been gone and how gross I am.”

“Do you think about it a lot? When you’re not with her?”

“Of course I do.” The question sticks in your mind: when we’re having sex too? “But we have phone sex,” he says, oddly prideful.

“That’s good. I’ve never been very good at phone sex.”

“If you’re horny enough it doesn’t matter.”

And that’s probably true. You have sex again shortly thereafter and you wonder if he’s thinking about her. You notice that he does not say your name when he cums.

February 2013

The next year you see him on Valentine’s Day. “Shouldn’t you be spending this with your wife?” you ask.

“I would be if I were at home.”

“You could go home or at least, call her.”

“I could call her, and I did, earlier today. But, it’s just a day. It’s not like it’s our anniversary or one of our birthdays.”

It’s just a day, so I’m spending it with you. It’s just a day, you’re just a girl.

“When’s your anniversary?”

“March 16th,” he says without missing a beat. Because he remembers things. As do you. For better or for worse.

“Are you going to go home for that?”

“No, she’s coming to visit.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” You probably don’t sound very convincing but you’re already making new plans for that week mentally – not that you had any explicit plans with him.

“You could meet her,” he offers, and you think he must be joking but it’s not that funny so you don’t laugh. He doesn’t laugh either because it isn’t a joke.

“Wait what?” you say. “Don’t you see how that’d be a little weird?”

“She knows you exist.”

“Yeah, but-”

“-And,” he leans in to whisper into your ear because you’re in a relatively fancy restaurant where you probably shouldn’t be speaking too loudly about such topics, “I don’t know if you’re into women, but I think she’d be into you.”

It’s a blessing that your dress is black because you choke on red wine and it dribbles down your chest and onto your clothes before you can catch it.

“Sorry. I’m now realizing that sexuality is a sensitive topic and maybe I shouldn’t have broached the subject like that.”

“It’s not about my sexuality. It’s about the fact that you just asked me if I wanted to sleep with your wife.”

“Well, I was hoping to be there too in that hypothetical.”

“It’s your anniversary. I shouldn’t be there. You two should get some alone time.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

He asks you to help him pick out an anniversary gift for his wife. You study pictures of her to see what style of jewelry she wears. Apparently you’re good at buying gifts because you see a new picture of her as his lock screen in which she’s wearing the necklace you picked out.

It’s silver not gold, so it’s not the necklace you care about but the jewelry behind the glass that you gazed at while Leon talked to the cashier.

But before the necklace, before the picture, before Leon’s anniversary, you leave the restaurant together the same way you arrived except you’re covered in red wine. You complain about the way your heels leave blisters so he carries you to the front door - bridal style, ironically, but you’re the only one thinking about it. It’s just a name that comes from an old tradition. It’s like how Valentine’s Day is just a day. He gets down on one knee and because you’ve already imagined him in this position, seeing it play out in front of you startles you, but he’s just unbuckling your shoes. He sees the look on your face - you try to play it off - and he laughs because he knows what you’re thinking, but then again, he doesn’t know anything at all. To him, it’s a silly misunderstanding. To you, it’s a cruel joke you’ve played on yourself.

In his bedroom, where you spend most of your time together, he unzips your dress like he’s trying to save the wrapping paper on a gift.

“It has wine all over it, and I got it on sale,” you say. “You don’t have to be so… gentle about it.”

“Would you prefer I rip it off of you?”

But it’s already slipping past your knees, dropping to the floor, revealing your bra and panties, revealing the secret - that you made an effort, that he is opening a gift, and the gift is a woman in lingerie. His face says enough, the way he looks you up and down, with arousal coursing through his veins but a certain fondness and admiration in his eyes.

You distract him by unbuttoning his dress shirt - slowly because you’re pretty sure this is the one he likes. There’s no tie to undo, no tie to pull him into bed by. He doesn’t like things around his neck. Once, he tried to wear one and couldn’t tie it himself, and you had to help. He only kept it on for a second because he felt like it was suffocating him.

You’re stuck in a mutual trance until you hear the neighbors fucking - not making love, fucking. You throw your head back laughing and Leon drags his hands down his face in faux-exasperation, laughter peeking through his fingers.

“Way to kill the mood,” he sighs.

“Should I go get the broom,” you ask, intending to bang on the wall between apartments.

“I think it’d be a little hypocritical.” Considering how much sex we have. Considering the fact that we’re about to have sex.

“Okay, but we don’t sound like that.”

He shrugs with a stupid grin.

“Oh God, do we sound like that?!”

“I hope not.”

“Leon,” you draw out his name, not quite whining, not quite begging. Not yet.

“Here,” he says, and sticks a CD in his stereo, something he rarely uses. He prefers the quiet. There’s too much noise these days, he once told you.

"You sound like an old man."

"I feel like an old man."

When he stands in front of you in only a white undershirt and a pair of slacks, his belt lost somewhere along the way, while you’re freezing to death in black lace lingerie because he keeps his apartment at 70 degrees maximum, you let go of all inhibitions, and let your surprise be a pleasant one when you realize what album is playing. Grace. As if you have any left.

“I love Jeff Buckley,” you say.

“Everyone loves Jeff Buckley.”

“Not like me.”

The soft music doesn’t fully cover the sounds of your noisy neighbors but the sentiment does. All you can think about is Leon when he’s atop you. You make out like teenagers, savoring it in a way that makes it feel like there’s no expectation that the two of you will have sex.

But slowly, it becomes more than that. His hands cup your breasts, his tongue flicks your nipple, his hands spreading your thighs, his fingers brushing over the fabric. And then the CD stops. It’s been 52 minutes. It’s like a parent knocking at the door, interrupting the magical moment. When Leon stands up to choose another CD, he sheds his shirt too.

Fade Into You plays as he walks back to you and you want to ask ‘How did you know?’, but you opt for taking off his pants instead. You lie face to face atop the covers with the lights only dimmed while he thrusts slowly in and out of you. You worry you’ll start singing along because you know all the words to this album. But Leon’s mouth rarely leaves yours - except when his face is between your thighs.

It’s slow, intimate, undeniably romantic. Only urgent when you’re both nearing the edge and he picks up the pace. You cum together and wade through the aftershocks with heavy breaths. So Tonight That I Might See fades out and covered in sweat, you bask in the shared euphoria that tries to fill the melancholy air. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

July 2013

Once, after a particularly terrible mission, you meet Leon at his hotel room and he fucks you so hard he has to keep his hand over your mouth for the duration to avoid a noise complaint. A second noise complaint.

Another time, he fucks you so hard the condom breaks. You’re on birth control but he has a wife, a wife that’s not you, so he offers to buy you the morning after pill, and since there’s no logical reason not to take it, you agree. Before you pop the pill in your mouth, you ask him, (mal)apropos of the situation, “Do you think you’ll have kids?”

You let him answer while you wash it down with a gulp of water.

“We’ve been trying actually.” You see the way he smiles and it makes you choke on the water. You wouldn’t have been surprised by a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, but you realize what his statement means: he would never buy her this pill. He wants to have a baby, but not your baby. He doesn’t love you like that. He doesn’t love you at all.

August 2013

You realize you love him right after he leaves. The best and worst part is that you do not see him until 2015. Almost 2 years later. You don’t hear anything from him or about him and sometimes you assume he was KIA, more optimistically, MIA. (Really, he’s just drunk and busy most of the time.)

If Leon died would his wife send you an invitation to the funeral? Who are you - the mistress, a friend of the family, a long-lost somebody?

Summer 2015

When he calls you in July, you half-assume that his voice won’t be the one on the other side. It’ll be someone else who recovers his phone from the ashes of whatever the fuck he’s fighting. You’ve started to forget what he sounds like and it terrifies you.

“I’m gonna take some time off,” he tells you.

“You deserve it since you’re always working so hard.” You understand what ‘time off’ means. It means time away from you too. It means he goes back to where he belongs – in bed, beside his wife.

“I never thought I’d get a vacation – I tried, but it got interrupted. Bio-terrorists don’t care about vacation time as it turns out.”

“How long is your time off going to be?”

“I’m not sure yet. We don’t technically have paternity leave, but I think the DSO feels-”

“Paternity leave?”

“Yeah. I forgot to mention, Ashley’s pregnant.”

The “trying” they were doing finally worked. She must be so happy – they both must be so happy. You force yourself to be because it’s cruel to hate a child. It’s not the baby’s fault that you’re in love with its father.

“That’s… awesome, Leon. I remember you saying you were trying, so, congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he says, and the smile on his face looks genuine but you see his hands come out of his pockets, only to retreat. He was going to hug you. But something holds him back. Though she’s physically carrying the baby, he takes on some of the weight it seems.

“You’re gonna be a great father,” you say. And that’s the one statement that you mean wholeheartedly.

The next words to leave your mouth surprise you both. “How far along is she?”

“Not sure about the exact number of weeks, but she’s pretty far into her second trimester.”

“Does she have a bump yet?” “Can I see a picture?” “What about the ultrasound?” You’re just tearing your own heart out so he can’t when he inevitably leaves. Or, maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re curious to a fault. Maybe you’re genuinely a little bit happy because you do love him. That’s what makes it worse.

You realize that this is the last time you’ll see him. He’s not dying, and will likely return to DC, but his wife will call him, ask him to switch to video so she can show him the baby that sits perfectly on her hip. In your mind, she’s walking around their kitchen, still in frame while the phone sits on the counter and he watches, imagining the joy he’ll feel when he takes on half the weight of parenthood while he lets her sleep in on the weekends.

You can’t be in the shower across the hall while he sings to a baby over the phone. You know he’ll sing.

He has a better voice than one might expect and you know this because he once got drunk enough for you to convince him to sing karaoke.

“C’mon,” you say, nudging him in the direction of the stage.

“I don’t sing,” he says, though he’s smiling.

“Everyone sings.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

“I’ll make a deal. If you sing, then I’ll sing.” He’s already holding your hands, you don’t have to shake on it. But you do (and he spits on his palm first to seal the deal and you tell him it’s disgusting but mimic the gesture anyway).

You sing Like A Prayer, and though you can’t hear his voice over the surrounding noise, you can see him singing along by “Heaven Help Me”.

He sings Jessie’s Girl, and you would be enthralled even if he completely bombed, but you’re a face in the crowd of dozens, singing along with varying BAC’s, you’d guess. You’re not Jessie’s Girl, or Leon’s girl, you’re just a girl.

But the last night you spend together, you let yourself believe that you’re Leon’s girl when you fall into bed with him. When you interlock your fingers you pretend your ring is at the jewelers or on the bedside table. When he fucks you, he’s being quiet because you can’t wake up the neighbors or the baby in the nursery. In your mind, your husband is making love to you after he’s returned from the war.

He explains what happened at Alcatraz and you’re Penelope, he’s Odysseus, except there are no other suitors for him to kill. No bow to shoot, no olive tree bedpost.

But like them, you sleep together in a familiar room. Finally, fully, skin to skin, he gives himself to you. He gives himself to you temporarily, it’s sweaty and sickly sweet. You kiss until your lips turn red, catching your breaths forehead-to-forehead until you hold his cheeks in your hands like a pomegranate, ripe and rotting.

He grips your hips until they bruise, and barely pulls out in time to spill his seed on your inner thighs, only a bit ends up inside.

It’s not the first mistake you make together but it is the last.

His trip is barely long enough for him to stand outside the bathroom and pray for one line while you sit alone praying for two. Silently, you show him the result.

“What do you want to do now?” he asks.

“Watch TV, I guess,” you say.

You sit next to each other on the couch. He leaves in the morning as was always the plan. You kiss him goodbye and with the same lips, he kisses Ashley hello.

You were never Penelope. You’re Calypso, and he longs for home.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 4 months ago

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A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 7

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The days leading up to Christmas pass in a blur. I work almost constantly either in the cafe or at home helping Stella with Wedding plans. My contact with Jensen falls back to sporadic texts during lunch breaks. It feels impossible to build any connection with so little contact, but he’s been so understanding, claiming he’s also busy now that he’s home.

When I finally flip the sign on the door to ‘closed’ at six o’clock on Christmas Eve I’m utterly exhausted. I check my phone on the walk back to my apartment.

Hey Darlin’, About to get on the road. It’s a long trip, if you’re not too tired after work, I’d love to chat

I pass a packed restaurant and glance through the large windows at the couples and families sharing a lovely pre-Christmas meal. Knowing I’m going back to an empty apartment, the loneliness wins out and I decide to call him.

“Hey, Darlin’.”

“I knew that would sound so much better in your Texan drawl.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. It tends to come out more when I’m at home.”

“Don’t apologise. How’s the drive?”

“Been on the road ‘bout an hour and a half, still got two to go. Been a little lonely so far, but it just got a little better. How long you free for?”

“Three and a half hours? That’s not really a long trip…But I’m almost home now so I guess I can keep you company for a while.”

“In a car by myself on my way to see my family…yeah, it’s a long trip.”

“I guess I can understand that. I bet there are a few thoughts going around your head at the moment. I know I’d be spiraling…”

“I don’t know about spiraling…But yeah…My sister’s bringing her husband, as expected and my brother’s bringing his latest flame, so I’ll be the awkward seventh wheel turning up alone. Can’t wait for Mom’s twenty questions about when I’m finally gonna settle down. It’s not enough to just be famous, she wants grandkids…”

“That actually makes me feel better about spending Christmas alone.”

“Sorry…My family’s great and I’m glad I won’t be alone. I shouldn’t complain.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it. Vent away. Plus, we haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other, and I’ve already learnt a few more things about you. Tell me more.”

“Well, it might give you a little more context if I tell you I’m the middle child. Wait. You’re not taking notes, are you? Gonna sell my sad story to some journalist for a pretty penny?”

As I listen, I put a tray of frozen butter chicken and rice in the microwave to cook before kicking off my shoes and collapsing on the couch. “They’d pay for that? Maybe I should. Pay off some student debt while I’m at it, or maybe just something that’s not ramen and frozen dinners.”

“Don’t tell me that’s gonna be your Christmas dinner.”

“You get used to it. The frozen meals are getting better. Roast beef, shepherd's pie, al la Chef Ramsay.”

“Gordon Ramsay sells frozen meals?”

“Yep.”

“I’m still taking you out for a proper meal sometime. No, you know what. I’m gonna send you some money. Go out for a proper Christmas dinner, on me. Please.”

“And sit amongst all the happy couples and families like the loner I am. No thanks.”

“At least buy yourself something nicer to eat alone then?”

“Don’t worry, Nick’ll cook something. Stella won’t let me wallow here alone.”

“Good. Buy yourself something nice then. Treat yourself to a new dress or jewelry or…”

“Jensen, stop. I’m not taking your money, okay? I’m not a gold digger. I’ll stumble through on my own. I always have. Plus, I’m the one that owes you a shirt.”

“You’re eating ramen and frozen meals and you want to replace a shirt that cost more than your monthly salary? Forget it.”

“You shirt cost-Wait! Are you trying to figure out how poor I am?”

“We all start somewhere, Darlin’. When I first moved out to LA I had nothing. I was mucking out horse stables to get from one audition to the next.”

“Yeah, but I bet you did that right out of high school…not after taking a gap year to follow around a dropkick and then trying to get your life back on track after being cheated on, only to fall for the same shit again with a different guy. Thus putting your study and life on hold again. Only to then find yourself quickly approaching your 30th birthday with nothing to show for it…”

“Wait…Wait. I’m pulling over. I can’t process that while driving.”

“Sorry, no. Keep driving. We will talk about it some other time…or not at all.” You hang your head and mentally chastise yourself for divulging so much information at once. You blame the loneliness and exhaustion.

“I should get gas anyway. Just hang on, Darlin’.” I sigh and pull out my tight ponytail so I can run my hands through my greasy hair. “Alright. I’m parked now. Let’s talk. Cause yeah, you’re right, I did go straight out of high school. But I wanna hear more about these dropkicks.”

“There’s nothing to tell. It’s my fault really. I should’ve been better, stronger.”

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t blame yourself. Did they? Did they blame you? Tell you it was your fault?”

“Don’t all guys? But they didn’t have to…If I had satisfied them they wouldn’t have brought other women into our bed…” I sigh, “Who am I kidding? Why are you still talking to me? I could never satisfy the likes of you. You’ve probably been with all sorts of supermodels and actresses…”

“Y/N. Darlin’. That is not on you. And no, not all guys. Those boys didn’t deserve you. You deserve a real man who would treat you right. Also, never compare yourself to supermodels or other actresses. ‘Cause yeah, maybe I have slept around a bit, but where the fuck are they now? They wouldn’t spend hours talking me through a road trip. You’ve satisfied me more than anyone else ever has, in just the last few days.”

“Jensen…You know how that sounds right?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m a gentleman. I promise, there’s been no hand-to-dick contact to thoughts of you.”

“That’s reassuring. Same here, just so you know…no hand-to-…You know what I mean.”

His low chuckle reverberates through the phone, warming me and alleviating a little of my anxiety. “Yeah. I know what you mean. So, uh, back to the point…Who are these guys that I need to ruin?”

“They’re nobody. I don’t want to talk about them anymore. Can we go back to your problems? They’re less…they’re just less.”

“Thanks?”

“You know what I mean!” Feeling a little better, I drag myself up and bring the now-cooled dinner from the microwave back to the couch. “Middle child problems are less heavy than a string of douchebag exes.”

“At least we can agree they’re douchebags.”

“Jensen!” I chastise.

He chuckles and then sighs. “Let me actually get gas and snacks and get back on the road. Then you can hear more of my life story, seeing as you just divulged a big chunk of yours, which we will talk about more in the future by the way. I won’t force you to dwell on it tonight, but I want to know all about you. I know there’s more interesting stories there.”

I eat while the line is silent. Part of me feels like a fool for sharing the story of my exes with Jensen, even if it was only one tiny part.

When Jensen finally comes back to the phone we continue talking until he pulls into Richardson. He shares stories about himself and his siblings growing up and his plans for Christmas, which he doubts will be white, considering the mild temperatures in Texas. I enjoy getting to know him more intimately and as a person, more than just his career. But he also tells me all about his passion for music and how it’s similar to his passion for acting. He tries to get me to open up more but reluctantly accepts when I say I’m tired and more interested in hearing his stories. Undeterred, chills run down my spine when he says, “Someday, Darlin’. Someday you’re gonna return the favour. I’m gonna know everything there is to know about you.” He reluctantly cuts the night short when he pulls into his parent’s driveway. “Thanks for the company, Darlin’. Merry Christmas Eve.” I argue that Christmas Eve is still three hours away, but wish him a Merry Christmas anyway before the line goes silent.

As I stare at my cracked home screen I decide to come up with a nickname for him. If he’s going to insist on melting my heart with that delicious, deep, drawl, “Darlin’”, then I intend to come up with something that causes a similar effect.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never

#jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic

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love-on-mars · 1 year ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do a angst fic abt mick (80s,90s era) literally could be about anything i just never see anyone base a angst fic around him and its always based around the reader so i was wondering if you could write one around mick! Sorry if this request kinda sounds weird ☠️

Hiiii! I’m so sorry if this one is kinda short, it’s also more of hurt/comfort so I hope that’s ok. I set this in the 90s when Mick was having it rough in the band, therefore; angst! Enjoy!

Warings: swearing: talk of chronic illness, sad Mick, angst

Worthless (Mick Mars x Reader)

You heard to front door swing open followed with a grunt and a sigh. Immediately you went over to see your husband of 10 years treading in, looking just as defeated as he has the last few weeks.

Neither of you had to say anything, it was almost funny how intuitive you bother were to each other. It was like you could read each other’s mind, knowing if something was wrong. You looked up at him as you helped him take his coat off, he looked at you with sad, tired eyes. He looked like a kicked puppy.

You pulled him further into your shared home and brougham him upstairs, hearing some soft grunts as he walked up. It broke your heart to hear him in pain, and you knew the AS was getting worse than ever. The worst thing about it is there’s nothing either of you can do to help him.

You offered him some food but he shook his head, opting to take a shower. You offered to help but he said no, he’s always insisted he can care for himself. You know this of course, but offer anyways like how he helps you.

As he came out he got dressed and lays down, a disgruntled sigh escaping his lips. He looked over at you, knowing you wouldn’t sleep until he told you about his once again terrible day in the studio.

“What did they say this time?” You softly asked him, wanting to be as gentle as possible. Recording Generation Swine was hell for him, the producer Scott Humphrey was a real piece of work. Never satisfied with what Mick had to offer, and turning the guys against him. He even said Tommy was a better guitarist than him, Mick had never been so crestfallen during his time in the band.

“What do you think?” He spat, “all I heard today was no, no, no and no. Nothing I contribute to this damn album is good enough for those assholes! Nikki seems to think I can’t play anymore, and said that I’ve always been terrible! They want to use John Corabi on guitar, but what about me?! Don’t I matter?! I’m the guitarist! If this is how they’re gonna be then I might as well just quit!”

You stared at Mick sadly as he ranted, unsure of how to help him. Mick has never been a particularly emotional man, the only time you’ve ever seen him cry was when he shed a tear at your wedding. As he vented you that tears had begun to form in his eyes, and as he finished he sobbed. He didn’t want to quit, he worked too hard to accumulate his fame and fortune. If he quit he would fade into obscurity based on the direction music was taking.

“My damn back doesn’t help. It’s so hard to turn, just putting my guitar strap on is hell. The guys don’t give a shit. They never have.” He sighs. He pauses before looking back at you, “why the hell are you even with me? Im worthless! What do you want from me? Money? Fame? I can’t imagine what else I have to offer you at this point…”

You straddled him and took his face into your hands, wiping away the tears he had shed in his sorrow. “Mick. I could never and will never use you like that, You know that. I married you because I love YOU, Everything that comes with you is just a bonus. You always make me feel happy and loved, no matter what. You’ve proven to be loyal and committed, no matter how tempted you were on tour. You’ve always treated me like the most precious thing on earth, and you listen to me. You aren’t worthless Mick, not to me.”

As he looked up at you more tears fell from his eyes, despite feeling relief about your relationship he couldn’t shake the feelings of inadequacy in terms of the band. The damage the producer and his bandmates were causing was too much. All he wanted was to feel he was still capable as a musician and a member of Motley Crue.

“I feel and look so old though…so worn…” he sighs, placing his hands on yours as he leans into your touch. “I don’t know what to do. All I know is I can’t take this anymore.”

“I know you hate confrontation, but if they are pushing you to tears then you need to say something. If you don’t go down there and speak up I will. I refuse to let them keep abusing you like this, you’re hurting enough as it is.” You say as you kiss away the remaining tears on his face. He chuckles at your bravery, but shakes his head.

“No need for that, Love. I’ll figure this out, somehow.” He gives you a small smile, he’s been through worse. He’ll get through it.

You nod and turn out the lights before laying down next to him and getting under the covers. You lay your arm across Micks torso to hold him close, he wraps an arm around you pull you into him. “Thank you baby. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mick. Everything will be ok.”

#mick mars #motley crue #mick mars imagine #mick mars x reader #motley crue x reader #1313 #team mick #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil

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disneyprincemuke · 8 months ago

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it is almost 4 am. i stayed up to study for my upcoming hindi exam(its a shit subject for me and this is my final paper), but instead of studying i have been on tumblr and pinterest.

my tutor is gonna be quizzing me in the afternoon about the stories and poems and i haven't done shit😭

i feel like a car that is running on a risky amount of fuel while trying to reach the destination. i am kinda burnt out, but i still have two papers left. i cried before my history paper(literally sat on the steps outside my exam hall and bawled my eyes out for like 10-15 minutes) and stayed up for over 30 hours studying for economics, gave the paper and then slept.

i am so close to giving up, i'm fed up, burnt out, tired and just wanna spend my days working on my wips, go shopping for my cousin's wedding and wait for my sister to come home.

sorry for dumping this on you. i just needed to vent, and no one i know is awake at this hour.

i enjoy reading your work noelle. it can take my distracted brain a good few seconds to comprehend what is happening in the fic, but i love it. i hate having to take time to process a chapter before reading the next one cause i wanna read the chapters you are putting out as well. (i'm getting pumped up for macky)

duno how to feel about you knowing damn well i’m up at 4am and you being right about it

are you- are you okay? is there anything i can help you with to make you feel better dawg 😭 you’re kinda real for wanting to just do your wips, and if i had more going on besides being a bum right now, i’d probs be like you rn

UGGGH thank you for loving my work fr,, i eat that shit up actually and it’s ok…….. it’s pretty chaotic anD THANKS I LOVE MACKY WITH MY WHOLE CHEST

#disneyprincemuke asks #dpm x itsprashimusic

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lemons3ason · 4 years ago

Text

BNHA HUSBAND SCENARIOS: When you mention divorce after a fight

~~~~~~~~~~~

🥦Izuku Midoriya🥦

“If I mean so little to you than why’d you ever marry me?!”

Your voice echoed that same sentence in his head over and over again, you had gotten into an argument over Izuku overworking himself and it resulted in him saying things he didn’t mean. He had forgotten that behind these walls you were a married couple not hero partners, he had chosen his job over you regardless of the promise that he made that you’d always be the world he wanted to protect and now here he was, sitting alone on the couch in shame. He had hurt you with his words he knew he did, he wanted to apologize but he didn’t know what to say or do. His ears twitched to the sound of your bedroom door opening and he stood up meeting your puffy eyes before you moved towards the door.

“H-honey...w-where are you going?”, he stuttered, a feeling in his stomach made him worry.

“Out. Just go back to work or something...you’re happier there anyways.”

His body winced to the cruel venom that laced every word, he had to apologize immediately. He slowly walked up to you reaching for your hand but you quickly snapped it away and opened the door.

“(Y/n) wait I’m-“

“If I stay by you any longer then I’ll really consider divorcing you.”, you admitted coldly making the tall muscular man freeze completely.

You walked out, slamming the door as you left, leaving Izuku alone to his thoughts. You wanted to divorce him...you were actually considering it. What did he do? What was he supposed to do, he didn’t want you to leave him! He’s the number one hero, he fights villains and faces death everyday, and yet now he’s afraid and alone. Despite his frenzied mind he raced after you, nothing else mattered right now then you. Thankfully you hadn’t gotten far but he could tell from your body language that you were crying again, you always tried to play tough even when you were truly hurting inside.

“(Y/n)!”, he screamed, you name echoing in his chest.

You quickly turned around revealing your tearful eyes, you frowned quickly deciding to run rather then face your green haired husband. Izuku wouldn’t let you go so easily, not now, not ever! He activated his quirk speeding towards you and scooping you up into his arms as he floated up into the clouds. You couldn’t do anything up here so you had to listen to him, “(F/n) Midoriya I’m sorry!”, he yelled hugging you tightly.

You didn’t respond, you didn’t say a single word much to Izuku’s horror. He pressed his forehead against the top of yours and closed his eyes begging you to look at him, “Not like this. Please (Y/n) anything but this, I don’t want to lose you. We’ve been together since high school and I love you more every day so please don’t tell me you want a divorce. Just tell me what I have to do to fix my mistakes.”, Izuku pleads were desperate and shaky. You didn’t want to deal with this broken heart of yours anymore, he always chose work over you and you were tired of it.

“I-I want my Izuku back. I married Izuku Midoriya...not Pro Hero Deku. I don’t want to be your second thought anymore I’m tired of being forgotten.”, you sobbed against his chest not once looking up at him.

That’s when he realized how little time he’d been spending with you, a simple hello and good night were all he’d ever gotten from you lately. He’d go to work early, get home late, you’d stop making him dinner all together since you knew he wouldn’t come home. The stress of him neglecting you over work had finally caught up with you and now he had to fix it.

“Let’s go home (y/n).”

“Don’t wanna. I hate it there.”, you admitted.

Even if you didn’t want to he took you home. He carried you to bed and laid you down wrapping his arms around you and talking to you until you vented out all of your feelings. Once you were asleep in his arms he grabbed his phone and immediately requested time off from the agency. He had to rekindle your love for him before anything else happened and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

~~~~~~~~

💥Katsuki Bakugou💥

Your cries had finally calmed down after an hour but Katsuki’s guilt and worry were far from gone. He couldn’t even remember the cause of the argument, so he could remember were the tears in your eyes when he had grabbed your wrist to hard and accidentally activated his quirk. The unpleasant smell of burnt flesh still lingered in the room and small drops of your blood stained the floor.

“(Y/n)...open the door. Let me clean your wound before it gets infected.”, Katsuki called from the other side of your bedroom door.

He didn’t hear any noise from the other side so he assumed you were ignoring him but he deserved it. All he did was fight with you lately, the stupid stress from work was making him angrier then he already was but why would he take it out on you? He called for you again trying to get any sign that you were okay. He was hopeful when he heard the door unlock but your cold heartless expression made his blood freeze.

“I’m tired Bakugou. I’m tired of being the stupid ass sponge that you dump all your problems out on and then ring out when you’re not angry anymore. Finish filling these out, I’m leaving tonight because I can’t do this anymore.”, you sighed slamming some papers against his chest before returning to your room.

The angry blonde knew he fucked up the moment you called him by his last name, you only ever did that when you were furious so he knew he fucked up. He didn’t want to bother you anymore then he had so he left to the kitchen to look over the papers you had given him. He assumed it was paperwork for work since you both worked at his agency but his heart dropped when he realized that they were divorce papers. Everything was already filled out all that was needed was his signature of consent to start the divorce process. His mouth ran dry, his heart pace quickened, and his hands became sweaty from nervousness. He raced back to your bedroom forcing the door open to see you packing your suitcase and frowned at you. You met his eyes briefly but returned to filling your suitcase despite him wanting to speak with you.

“B-bab-(Y/n)...(Y/n) why divorce? I-It doesn’t...I-I mean we don’t-“

“You don’t love me anymore that’s why you’re always fighting with me right?”, you dared to ask holding your injured arm up to your chest.

Katsuki body froze to your assumption, is that how he’s made you feel? “(Y/n) I love you. I do, I love you just like the day I confessed to you. Just like the day I proposed to you, just like-like our wedding day.”, He confessed shaking as tears poured from his eyes. “I don’t want to let go of you! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You turned to him with sad eyes taking in his stressed appearance and sighed, you couldn’t do this anymore. You were tired from always being yelled at and then suddenly being loved, you weren’t sure if he was bipolar or just being a dick anymore so you couldn’t bear to deal with this another day.

“Bakugou just sign the papers. You’re not gonna change, I’m not gonna be able to take another day of this especially if you’re getting so violent that you’d actually hurt me.”, your voice was soft and broken the more you spoke you didn’t want to leave him but you couldn’t take this anymore, “I’m not asking for anything just let me g-“

You gasped feeling him suddenly embrace you, you flinched in his arms but he just held you tighter afraid to let you go. His lips kissed yours feverishly making you reconsider your decision until he pulled away.

“Don’t do this (Y/n) I won’t be able to live with myself if I lost you. I’m sorry, I’ll get better, just please don’t leave me. Stay here tonight I’ll go to a hotel or something so you have some time to yourself and then I’ll come back and make you breakfast and if you still feel the same tomorrow then I’ll sign the stupid fucking papers.”, he admitted handing you the papers.

His hands shook violently with fear, he didn’t want to let go of them knowing that you’d probably still feel the same tomorrow. You were able to pull them out of his grip and he left to pack his bag for the night. You didn’t say a word as you watched him pack his bag for the night, he was ready to leave but not before pressing another kiss to your lip and apologizing again.

“Goodnight love I’ll see you tomorrow.”, he smiled nervously back at you watching you merely nod and wave him goodbye.

It wasn’t until now that Katsuki realized just how distant you were from him.

~~~~~~~~~

🔥Shoto Todoroki❄️

It was just the heat of the moment and the stress from arguing that made Shoto say what he said. Now with his hand over his mouth and new tears falling from your eyes the fighting had ended with both sides losing. He had cheated on you with his best friend, the very girl he told you never to worry about. You stared down at your feet, face heating up in embarrassment, while your vision became blurrier.

“(Y/n) I-“

You held your hand up signaling for him to stop, you went to your room to pack your suitcase and leave. He tried to speak with you but you wouldn’t listen and to make it worse he answered the phone to Momo as you packed. While he was busy talking to her you slipped out of the front door not once daring to look back. You’d stay at a hotel for tonight then move back to your home town, your mother was right to be wary of him but to think he had actually thrown you away for Momo was almost to unbelievable.

“Where did it all go wrong?”, you sighed to yourself getting into the Taxi.

You were practically at the front desk requesting a room when Shoto finally called you. An hour had already passed but it made you realize just how little you meant to him now that he had who he truly wanted. Once you were settled in your hotel room you answered him, your voice dead and hoarse from sobbing.

“(Y/n) please come back home. I-I didn’t mean to do it, I’m sorry just please come ba-“

“I want a divorce Todoroki, if you wanted her so badly that you went behind my back to do it then I no longer want to be your wife.”, you replied coldly hanging up before he could speak anymore.

You blocked his number and tossed your phone into a forgotten corner of the room. You called your mother on the room phone to tell her you’d be going back and the pain in her voice over hearing you heartbroken made her regret ever jinxing you. You heard a knock at your door and sighed believing it was room service so you put on a fake smile as you answered the door but it dropped once you saw Shoto standing before you.

“Go away.”, you warned slamming the door on him but his ice blocked it from shutting completely.

“(Y/n) I’m sorry, it only ever happened once I promise. I wasn’t thinking right it was during your year long undercover mission I-I don’t even remember what made us do it-“

You glared at him, with a heavy heart your hand met your left cheek, the sound echoed in the room before he turned to look at you again.

“I stayed loyal to you all these years and when I leave for one you decide to fall for another woman and sleep with her. I’ve always been insecure especially about women as beautiful as Yaomomo, and just when I was starting to believe you about being prettier than her you threw it all away!”, you sobbed holding yourself in your arms, “What did I do to make you stop loving me? To make you stoop low enough to cheat on me!”

God your words were killing him, each tear made his guilt worse and worse, “(Y/n) I’m sorry...I’m so sorry.”

“No you’re not. You hold back because you’re lying to yourself that you love me but even I know that you don’t. Just go Shoto...it’s over I want nothing to do with either of you.”, you sighed turning your back to him one last time. He reached out to grab you but he couldn’t seem to reach you. Even though you were so close his body wouldn’t let him move, tears spilled from his dual colored eyes as he turned to leave. You heard the door shut and sighed it was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

🐙Tamaki Amajiki🐙

“A-Angel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”, Tamaki cried.

You body was limp in his grasp and to defeated sigh left Tamaki fearful of what was going to leave your mouth, “If you don’t love me then why do you bother staying here? I’ll just do you the favor and set you free. Once the divorce is settled then you won’t have to deal with someone annoying like me ever again.”, you spoke softly somehow escaping his grip as you disappeared into the bedroom. Tamaki was shaking, a cold sweat washed over him and his heart was racing. He hadn’t suffered an anxiety attack this serious since high school, he wanted you to comfort him but he knew right now you wouldn’t do that.

“(Y/n) I’m sorry. P-please don’t say you’ll divorce me. I don’t want anyone else I-I just want you.”, he admitted rushing to your room to see you packing your things.

His stomach dropped when he finally realized you were serious about this. He begged for you to listen, poor excuses falling from his lips with each passing second. “Tamaki just stop, why would you want to stay with someone you don’t even love? The damage is already done Tamaki so you have to deal with the consequences. I’m going to live with my mother until I get back on my feet, I don’t want anything from you just sign off the papers once you get them.”, you sighed zipping up your suitcase as you prepared to leave.

Tamaki’s quirk activated, his tentacle finger slammed your suitcase away in a matter of seconds. Once again you were yelling at him but he didn’t care, he walked up to you and fell to his knees just at your feet and wrapped his arms around your waist latching onto you desperately. “Tamaki let go.”, you warned pushing him off by his shoulders. Not a word left his lips, he just held onto you tighter. “Let go Amajiki.”, you sighed breaking to the sound of his soft sobs against your stomach.

“I-I can’t lose you. N-not like this. S-sorry...so s-sorry.”, he hiccuped stumbling over his words, “I need you. You’re not annoying, you’re not overbearing, you’re perfect! I love you, I didn’t mean what I said please don’t leave me!”, he screamed his tentacles wrapping around you desperately to keep you in his grasp.

“You don’t mean that. The anger in your eyes as you spoke to me only proved that you don’t love me. Let go and find someone you actually love because this... this isn’t the love you need.”, you sighed.

His nose pressed against your stomach as he begged the little person in you to convince you to stay, this wasn’t easy for you. The stress from your work and being pregnant was becoming to much for you and Tamaki’s anger towards you wasn’t helping your mental state.

“Please please don’t leave me. I can’t lose both of you.”, he sobbed.

You sighed and called his name making him look up at you, his tears poured down his eyes and his face was scrunched up on despair to the situation. Another sigh left your lips, “I’m tired Suneater.”, you whispered forcing Tamaki to freeze at the sound of his hero name. His fingers returned to normal, and although the situation was still at hand you decided to stop for the night. This strain was too much for you to handle, “Good night Suneater.” Your elf eared husband sat on the floor in shock as you drifted off to sleep fresh tears spilling silently from your eyes. He didn’t love you that’s all that replayed in your mind.

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🐈‍⬛Shinsou Hitoshi🐈‍⬛

You had mentioned divorce to him once after a cruel fight in return became brainwashed for several seconds and never dared to mention it again. Where did it all go wrong? Why did it become like this? You were to afraid to speak with your own husband because of his quirk, you were so bottled up from the neglect and loveless heartache bubbling up in you that you just decided that it was better to leave. Hitoshi wouldn’t even bother talking to you about your deteriorating marriage so what was the point. He’d get home, not even say hello and go straight to bed. Maybe you were overthinking things but in the end it would be the best for you, your high school sweetheart no longer loved you simple as that.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n) are you here?”, a female voice called, you kept your lips shut until your best friend emerged from the front door, “H-Hey why didn’t you answer me?”

“S-sorry force of habit. Sorry that I had to involve you in my running away.”, you giggled nervously.

“So you’re actually gonna take this mission? It’s an undercover mission and at a minimum you have to be off grid for a year, are you sure you can handle this?”, your friend Aiko asked.

“Y-yeah...nobody will recognize me now that I’ve quit the agency.”, you smiled.

Aiko quickly grabbed your bags and took them to her car as you left your goodbye note. Shinsou’s pet cat sat by watching you carefully, “Take care of him old friend.”, you sighed leaving your goodbye note and your ring behind.

The old tabby cat nodded and rolled into a ball to sleep until his master returned, you made sure to leave his bowls filled and disappeared without a trace. The next morning when Shinsou returned home he realized that the smell of bacon or fresh coffee was vacant from the house. He believed you had maybe overslept, that was fine in a way it gave him time to cuddle with you a bit until you quietly pulled yourself from his heavy arms.

“Mocha where’s your mom?”, Shinsou yawned walking into the kitchen.

His old tabby yawned and stamped his foot on the table bringing Shinsou’s attention to the letter that his fluffy butt sat on. He quickly noticed your ring and his heart sank, for a moment he believed it was a ransom note but it turned out to be worse then he thought. He continued to read the letter until he realized that you had left him...he had lost you. The purple haired pro ran to your bedroom praying to see you asleep in the black paw print covered sheets he had bought only to see your room completely empty of any sign of you. Your clothes were gone, shoes gone, your pictures gone! You had erased your very existence from the home and it made his heart stop.

“B-baby? Baby! (Y/n) please! Stop joking around this isn’t funny anymore! (Y/n) come back out!”, Shinsou cried collapsing to his knees from exhaustion.

If only he had realized his mistake before you had left and gone away, if only.

#deku x y/n #deku x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x fem!reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki x you #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #bnha

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niirnelena · 2 years ago

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being ace can be hard

so, i don’t know if anyone will care to read this but i need to vent. i am a young woman in my 20s on the ace spectrum and i’ve been thinking about it hard these past few months. i’ve been thinking that i feel really lonely sometimes. that being ace can be really tiring even when you’ve accepted it and feel pretty confident about it. i’m out to like 3-4 four people who are really accepting. and yet i don’t feel confident talking about it with them. tumblr is actually the only platform where people there are not people i know following me and that’s why i’m making this post here.

like i said, i’ve accepted my asexuality. i’m comfortable with it most of the time. but the more time passes and the more i feel pressured. this is not new, but i feel like it’s getting worst especially at family gatherings (insn’t it always ?). i have attended a wedding recently and my cousins just kept asking about relationships and stuff. oh yeah, i forgot to mention that i never had a relationship like ever. i don’t believe i am aromantic (but i could be wrong since i find it really hard to experience and explore things when you’re ace) however i find it very hard to engage with people in that way because i am absolutely terrified of being perceived in a sexual way and meeting people who will only see me for my body or who will not accept the fact that i don’t want sex.

and the other time, one of my friend (who vaguely knows about all this) really said to me “oh my boyfriend keeps asking when you’ll have a boyfriend or a girlfriend ?” and i was like okay ? why do people care so much ? and all of this happened in such a little amount of time, it really strucked me and i just kept thinking, i feel so lonely in being ace irl. and that’s the thing about being ace i think : it can be so hard to find your people.

most of the time i am really optimistic and genuinely don’t care i’m just out here living my life and i’m pretty happy.

but sometimes, i feel down about it. i’m angry about it. when i’m enjoying a book and there’s a sex scene or too much sexual jokes which take me out of the story and spoils the whole thing for me because i suddendly feel very much uncomfortable, i am angry, and sad. i feel lonely.

when people say to me that i am prude and have funny reactions when someone mentions sex, i am angry and sad. i feel lonely.

when a friend talks about sex with her or his partner and knows i’ve never had sex or anything says to me “it’s so good, it’s because you didn’t try it that you don’t understand.” i am angry and sad. i feel lonely.

and most of all i fear i will never find anyone who gests it and accepts it ever in a romantic relationship. that may be dramatic but like i said it is so hard to find your people.

anyway. i think that’s all i had to say ? honestly writing all this and verbalizing all these things for the first time kind of made me teared up. i’m sorry if all this did’nt make sense.

i send all of my courage to anyone being on the aroace spectrum. i love you sm.

#asexuality #asexual #ace #ace spectrum

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himbo-only-zone · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do Rantaro fluff alphabet?

rantaro amami || fluff alphabet

Me? Getting a post out? Woah- /lh. Anyway, of course I can! Here ya go! Sorry if it's out of character, I've never written for him before! I'm glad I was able to, though!

- Mod Anna

a. attractive. what does he find attractive about you? he loves your hands, they fit perfectly in his. he'll kiss you knuckles happily before dragging you on, another adventure to pursue. he's excited to be anywhere with you, and knowing that you're holding his hand, by his side? that's amazing.

b. baby. would he like a family? he would! i can see him wanting to show a kid the world, point out cool things in pictures, telling wild stories about what happened while he was there. he wouldn't mind taking them on trips as well!

c. cuddle. how does he cuddle? he's usually the big spoon, and he loves you facing him. he's pretty protective, a hand usually pressed against your lower back and a soft kiss on your forehead. he's very gentle and loving with this sort of thing.

d. dates. what are dates with him like? usually you're doing something different that you haven't done before, dates are never the same. he likes to be spontaneous, but also have a little bit of an idea of what's going to happen. he likes to keep you completely in the dark, though, having you play guessing games, although he wouldn't tell you even if they're correct.

e. everything. what are you to him? (ex. you are my _____) you're his favorite adventure. out of everything he's done, everywhere he's been, the greatest adventure of all was finding out about you and learning every little thing that he's come to love.

f. feelings. when did he know he was in love? you two were on an adventure, and you were a bit scared of something, whether it be the bugs or the night. he held you close and said that you didn't have to do this for him, but you shook your head. you were dedicated, and wanted to be with him no matter what, even during a small adventure. that was enough.

g. gentle. is he gentle with you? he's pretty gentle, holding your hand with a tight enough grip not to hurt you, kisses just firm enough, and hugs just warm enough. he's very careful. he loves you more than anything, and he thinks about your well-being all the time.

h. hands. how does he like to hold hands? he likes your fingers interlocked. it doesn't have to be tight, it can even super loose. just as long as your hands are touching, he knows you're safe, and that's all he wants to know. he loves pressing kisses to your knuckles.

i. impression. what was his first impression of you? he saw that you had an interesting personality, that would match well with his own. he saw a possible future, and wanted to pursue it. he didn't waste too much time asking you out, but he did get to know you a little first.

j. jealousy. how often does he get jealous? he is a very chill person in general, so it's very unlikely that he'd get jealous. there is the occasional moment, but it's far from often. he refuses to show it, not wanting it to interrupt your relationships with other people. he wants you happy. you'll notice the little things soon, however.

k. kiss. how does he kiss? who initiated the first kiss? he's an amazing kisser. the kisses are firm, yet soft and sweet. they show his passion for you. it's always accompanied by a hand on your lower back, and the other gently cupping your cheek. to break it, he often smiles into it and stares into your eyes.

l. love. who says "i love you" first? he does. it's done when you two are on the way home from some date, his hand on your knee as he drives. at a stop light, he looks over at you and just smiles. “damn, i love you. a lot,” he says, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles.

m. memory. what's his favorite memory with you? every one. he takes pictures of every date, every little thing you two do together. he loves every moment he spends with you, and he cherishes it more than anything. all the memories with you fill him with more joy that you'd expect.

n. nickel. how much does he spend on you? well, you two share most of your money so it can go towards trips and stuff, but he makes sure to spend more than you do. you don't deserve to pay that much, he was the one who took you on all of this. he also buys you surprise souvenirs.

o. orange. what color reminds him of you? purple. it represents mystery in his eyes, and he likes to explore mystery with you. hand in hand, exploring the world together.

p. pet names. what pet names does he use? more often than not, he uses babe. it's classic, and it gets the point across. but he loves throwing in the occasional love, dear, or prince/princess. he loves seeing your reaction, it's his favorite.

q. quaint. what's a non-modern thing he does? he scrapbooks. y'know how all of his moments with you are special, and he takes pictures? all of those pictures are in a scrapbook. all of those little details are put in there, journal entries of the fun things, little pieces of leaves found where you were ... it's beautiful.

r. rainy days. what does he do with you on a rainy day? you two aren't able to get out, so the day is mostly spent laying on the couch and watching tv. you two need to rest sometimes, all of the adventuring gets tiring after a while. he has an arm tightly wrapped around you, pressing a kiss against your temple.

s. sad. how does he cheer you up? he insists on laying down with you and letting you vent about what's going on. he's stroke your cheek with one hand and hold your other one tight, listening to your every word. he wants to see you happy. you're amazing to him.

t. talking. what does he like to talk about? he likes learning about what makes you you. like your childhood, your parents, siblings if you have any. it makes him smile, knowing that you had an interesting past, no matter what it will be. and yes, he will be asking your parents for baby pictures.

u. unencumbered. what makes him relax? he likes taking soothing nature walks. he wants a house near the woods so that he can go out and relax if needed. he likes taking you with him, enjoying a comfortable silence together. it makes him feel a lot better.

v. vaunt. does he show you off? you two are a pretty loving couple in general, so yes? he doesn't really do it intentionally, but if he catches someone staring, he'll smirk happily and pull you a little closer. a quick kiss to the forehead, and he'll walk away with you in his arms. he's so happy with you.

w. wedding. when, how, and where does he propose? he would want something simple, but at a really nice place. on the top of a mountain, the view absolutely beautiful. he pulls out a ring with is extremely simple, maybe one small diamond, but it holds so much meaning. “s/o ... you know i love you. most of what i would say would be me repeating myself over and over again, but ... being your husband would be the best adventure of my life. will you marry me?”

x. xylophone. what song reminds him of you? what's your theme song? honeypie by jawny reminds him of you! your them song is desert island disk by radiohead!

y. yes. does he think about proposing to and marrying you? he would love that! going on adventures with his wife/husband/life partner? being able to call you that to people when asked? god, it'd make him feel like the best man in the world. he loves you more than anything.

z. zebra. if he could have a pet, what would he get? from such an adventurous man, you'd expect something exotic, right? hell no, he would be insistent on getting a big dog. he loves big dogs. and they're his best friend. no questions asked.

#request complete! | ☁️#fluff alphabet! | 💙#fanfiction! | 💙#rantaro amami #rantaro amami x reader #rantaro #rantaro x reader #amami #amami x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa v3 #v3 #drv3 #killing harmony #danganronpa killing harmony #fluff

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willgrahymn · 4 years ago

Text

Two Love

I’m not gonna lie, this is probably some of the gayest shit I’ve ever written.

Summary: In the silence of the night, it feels like there's nothing but them. Loving oneself is not an easy task, and loving another takes work. If we can't love ourselves now though, we can at least love each other. Maybe then we will realize our own worth. Virgil and Roman know this well.

Word count: 2019

Tags: romantic prinxiety, (domestic) fluff, light angst, human au, living together, non-sexual intimacy, cuddling, communication, and marriage proposal ✨

As always, I’ll reblog with a link to this on ao3 :]!

“I wish you knew how lovable you are,” Virgil whispered into the silence.

Roman didn’t respond, biting his lower lip and not once opening his eyes. Virgil frowned, lightly tracing the tattoos on the other man’s chest, stopping to place his palm against the beating of his heart.

The room was quiet besides the sound of the heat coming through the vents and the occasional car passing by outside. Virgil sighed, laying his head against his love. He was warm, too, and he wished he never had to get out of bed again. It wasn’t like the way he wished during a depressive episode though. This was different; it was cozier, and more like home. He closed his eyes as he felt a hand begin to play with the hair at the base of his neck, and made a mental note to trim it later.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting against his boyfriend’s skin. He thought watching the rise and fall of his stomach, breathing in and out, was what made him want to say it.

“I know you do,” Roman responded, and Virgil could hear the tired smile in his voice, “I love you too. You’re perfect.”

“I’m anything but.”

“Then you’re perfect for me.”

Virgil decided he was happy to settle for that.

Roman continued to play with the dark strands before kissing the long magenta bangs that normally covered his boyfriend’s eyes. And he smiled because his hair smelled like the same raspberry-scented shampoo that he washed his hair with not long ago. If there was anything Roman believed he could do well, it was making his boyfriend feel cared for. He deserved it, and the way Virgil always leaned into his touch like a cat receiving ear scratches whenever he rubbed the shampoo into his scalp was something he simply couldn’t pass up when the opportunity arose.

He was beautiful now in Roman’s arms, and he would be beautiful when he woke up in the morning with his hair messed up going every which way. He would be beautiful when black makeup stained his face in tear tracks and he asked Roman if they could go home after a failed night out. There would not be a time when he was not beautiful, because he never gave Roman a reason to see him as anything less than that. He was a work of art. Frayed at the edges, sure, but he remained invaluable nonetheless.

Blinking slowly, Roman watched as his love shifted to meet his gaze. Dark eyes shining in the moonlight that seeped in through their window blinds. They were as gorgeous as the rest of him, he thought.

“What is it, my Night Light?”

“Oh, nothing,” he smirked, “I was just admiring.”

Roman rolled his eyes, a mix of fondness and instinctual doubt settling in his gut. “You see me every day, you’ll tire of me eventually.” He tried.

“We already went through the phase of being sick of each other when we first met, you’re not getting rid of me now.” Virgil teased, and before Roman could think of something else to say to distract from his statement, he started to speak again softer this time. “I meant what I said earlier, about how you’re so much more lovable than you know. I care about you.”

Virgil took a deep breath. He didn’t consider himself good at this sort of thing, but the weight of Roman’s fingers lacing between his own and pulling him closer was reassurance enough.

“I love you, Roman, and I… I just hope that one day, you’ll fall in love with yourself in the same way I did. You deserve to feel like you’re worth it.”

Roman stared at him, his mouth barely open as he replayed the words in his head. He knew Virgil, knew that he was always more on the pessimistic side, and didn’t try to get his hopes up about things to come. Still, he hoped for him. A hand rested against his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against his lips. Virgil smiled, and his heart felt full.

“Thank you,” he said. “I hope that one day you’ll wake up and face yourself in the mirror, and be able to value yourself as much as I do. It’s only fair.”

He took his partner’s hand, kissing his palm. Even in the darkness of their room, he could still see Virgil’s eyes go wide before hiding his face against his chest. It was cute, but he could tease him about that later. For now, though, he just felt lucky that he was allowed to see him like this. No walls up, and no fake dark persona to make sure others would leave him alone. He was just honest, authentic Virgil, and that was all that Roman wanted.

“I could spend a thousand lifetimes with you and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He admitted. “I would relive all the bad days where we didn’t get along, all the bad days where we doubted ourselves, as long as I knew it would bring me back here just like this with you.”

Virgil stared at him, curious and adoring. “You’re a madman.”

“Nothing compared to my brother,” Roman laughed, “but I guess you might be right. If I didn’t think straight before I certainly don’t now.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his lips. He pulled himself up, face to face with the hopelessly romantic man he’d fallen in love with, dark eyes staring through thick lashes.

With some hesitance, Roman asked. “Have you ever thought about wanting to get married someday? It’s okay if not, I know right now might not be the perfect time to bring it up, but… it came to mind, I guess.”

He held his breath as Virgil considered. He didn’t want to be pushy. All he knew was that if asked, he would accept that commitment, and not dream of another. Because Virgil wasn’t like any of the partners he had known before. He was gentle and rough, sweet and sour, and Roman loved his contradictions. He loved to be loved in a way he could understand.

“Maybe not right now,” Virgil finally replied, “but I’d be happy with that. With you.”

Roman nodded, kissing him on the nose and appreciating the way Virgil’s eyes crinkled when he did.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, and it was the truth. “I just need you to know that if you’re ever ready for that, I’ll be here. I’d love to call you my husband if you’d let me. One of us can surprise the other with a proposal someday, but before that, I want us both to be ready.”

Virgil blinked, slow like a cat. Maybe these kinds of conversations were better left until morning.

“Thank you. I’d uh, I’d like that though, eventually.”

Smiling, Roman closed his eyes. He always dreamed of grand fairytale weddings and proposals, but this, this was good too. Fitting for them. It wasn’t Disney, but they made it work.

Pulling the blanket further over them, Virgil kissed his prince’s cheek only to be pulled into a proper one right after. Soft and slow, Virgil felt Roman’s lips quirk as his hand grazed the rose tattooed at his hip.

Then, he asked. “Of all the people you could choose to love, why me?”

“I think you’re the only one who really gets me,” Roman said, nuzzling into his lover’s shoulder and breathing in the faint scent of lavender. “You smell good.”

Virgil laughed silently, and Roman felt his body shake against him. He could feel that same butterfly-like sensation in his stomach from when he first started thinking of him as more than a friend.

“I think you’re the only person who can understand me though… not in an edgy teenager way, but like with my issues. People see me, but not in the way you do. You’re the one who drove halfway across town to drag my sorry ass out of bed after my ex dumped me and helped me realize it was a good thing. You helped me get out of my comfort zone and experiment with makeup too. I guess in a way, you make me better. And if you can love me with all the flaws that I have, then I can love yours too.”

“Oh,” he whispered, “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you deserve to. You may be as dark and gloomy as a live-action Batman movie, but you still make my world a little brighter.”

“You’re a dork.”

Roman gasped, pulling back and holding his hand to his chest as if he had just touched a hot stove. “You’re so mean!”

Virgil shrugged, and Roman could practically hear the unspoken ‘it’s what I do best.’ It seemed that in all the years he had known him, he figured out how to decipher the mystery of a man hidden under all that black and purple emo attire.

It was 12:27 AM, at least that’s what the clock sitting on their bedside table told them. Virgil was used to being up late, insomnia and all, but since they started living together Roman insisted he come to bed at the same time every night. He appreciated it though. He liked getting ready for bed together and the weight of Roman falling asleep against him. He didn’t want to admit it, but it helped.

The room was nearly silent, the heat turned off long ago. The quiet sounds of rustling pillows and blankets were the only thing to be heard. Warm breaths lingered on Roman’s skin making his hair rise as soft lips met his jaw. He wondered if Virgil remembered watching him scrub violet lipstick off his face in the theater's dressing room while he giggled like a kid at a carnival. If he asked, Virgil would have told him there was a reason he preferred darker shades.

“Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”

“Don’t push it, Princey. You haven’t even decided if you want to adopt a cat or a dog yet.”

“Still! Could you imagine us as dads? We could have Disney movie nights. We already do that, I know, but we could do it with our kid. I’m perfectly fine with just being pet parents, but could you imagine?”

“I can, actually, and now I’m going to be worrying about our non-existent child and their not yet existing future until I fall asleep.”

Roman glared at him before rolling onto his side. All too familiar with the silly things he did, Virgil waited in anticipation and was pleasantly surprised when Roman finally lunged back over, attacking him with a kiss and laughing against his lips.

“You said not yet existing,” he grinned, “which implies that there will be one eventually.”

Virgil sighed, running his fingers through his partner’s hair. “You’re not getting me to agree to adopt a child in the middle of the night, Ro.”

Humming, Roman nodded an ‘okay’ and let the subject go for now. Virgil didn’t even think before he spoke again.

“I want a future with you, Roman, you know that.”

The softness in his eyes was one Virgil would do anything to protect, and he smiled as Roman snuggled into his chest. He loved him, and with the sound of his heart beating in his ears he was sure that he would do anything it took to keep him safe.

“Get some rest, Sleepy Beauty,” he whispered. “You deserve it.”

In the morning, they would both wake up with their legs intertwined, knowing that they could stay in bed all morning because neither had work that day. Roman would get up first, and Virgil would admire him as he stretched. When Virgil finally did pull himself out of bed and found his future-husband in the kitchen making french toast, he would slump against his back and leave a kiss between his shoulders.

And maybe life was never going to be easy, but that could be okay. Step by step, stroke by stroke, they’d make it through as each other’s sword and shield.

#Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides fic #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #prinxiety #Virgil's Volumes #my god these bitches gay...#reblogs and comments/tags are always hella appreciated but u didnt hear that from me #I FORGOT TO PUT THIS AS ROMANTIC PRINXIETY WHEN I FIRST POSTED THIS OOPS <3 #I guess it's a given but shh

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wandasallerdyce · 4 years ago

Text

Twilight Time - Steve Harrington

Pairing - Steve Harrington x M! Reader

Fandom - Stranger Things

Requested - yes/no

Warning(s) - one cuss word, all fluff

Notes - ugh, I’m a whore for this man 😩. But n e ways I was listening to Twilight Time earlier and said fuck it I’m writing for my best boi Steve. Also an upload two days in a row?! Woah! (p.s. I haven’t watched ST in a while so sorry if it’s cringe 😗)

(GIF not mine)

Steve was nervous to say the least. In just a few moments, you’d be walking down the makeshift isle the kids had made for your guys’ wedding. When you had told them that you guys were planning to get married in secret due to the law not letting you guys get legally married, they were excited and instantly asked to decorate the small part of the woods were you’d be hosting the wedding. And of course you guys said yes (more like were forced to).

Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's twilight time

When Steve had proposed to you, you guys had gone out to go stargazing. He was fascinated that you knew so much about the stars. He loved how the moonlight fell on your (s/c) face, making it glow beautifully. At this point, Steve was still wondering if he should go along with the plan. He knew both of you guys were young. He was 20 while you were 19. He didn’t want to tie you down to him when you could go to college and succeed in life.

Steve couldn’t help it though. Ever since he first saw you walk in through the doors at school, he was instantly enamored with you. He knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. When he finally went to talk to you, it was during a party. He was nervous as hell and was barely able to stutter out a “H-Hey I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.” To add on to the awkwardness, he did hand guns after.

You simply giggled and decided to flirt with him a little. “Harrington, huh? Got a nice ring to it. It’d be even nicer if it was next to my name.” You replied with a smirk. He instantly choked on air and went beet red in the face. ‘Smooth. Real smooth’ he instantly thought. He straightened his composure and shirt and replied “would you like to get out of here?” whilst offering you his hand which you instantly held. “Sure, why not?” You said while smiling. Needless to say, you guys ended up having a steamy make out session in his car.

Steve just couldn’t get enough of your lips. They were so plump and soft, unlike any other lips he had ever kissed. If it were even possible, he fell in love with you even more. Eventually, after a few more make out sessions, he had the courage to ask you out on a date, which you instantly agreed to. Ever since then, you’ve both always been together.

When purple colored curtains mark the end of day I'll hear you, my dear, at twilight time

Some nights, Steve would climb up to your window and get in bed with you after a rough day. You’d hear him out and hug him tightly if he starts crying. Steve loves you for that. He loves that he can count on you whenever he needs help.

When he gets the job at Scoops Ahoy, you become a regular and tease Steve, who’s in his uniform. “Look at the cute boy in the sailors outfit!” You say while sighing dreamily. “Stop it!” He replies back, going instantly red. Meanwhile, you compliment Robin’s outfit which got a pout from Steve. “You’re still cute nonetheless, Stevie.” You tell him while giving him a quick kiss which instantly brings a smile to his face. “Exit the break room.” Robin simply replies.

Deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me like days of old Lighting the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold

And here you guys were, looking at the stars together, laying on one of his blankets on top of his car. He turned his body to look at you with you doing the same. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He asked, staring at you lovingly. “Nope.” You replied, giggling softly, which earned you a playful eye roll.

“No, but seriously, I really love you. Your beautiful (e/c) eyes, your unique personality, basically, everything about you is amazing. I love you. I love how you listen to all my problems, letting me vent out all my problems, yes, I even loved how you teased me in the sailors outfit and,” he shakily pulls out the ring, which causes you to gasp. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So what do you say, (y/n)? Want to officially- unofficially get married?” He asks, and gulps right after. ‘Maybe I rushed it too fast’ he thinks.

“Of course Steve! Yes!” You exclaim, jumping into his lap which earns an oof from Steve. He smiles the biggest smile he’s ever done and slips the ring onto your finger and kisses you deeply. You pull away and look at the ring until you notice the similarity.

“Wait, did you get this from the machine at the store we were at the other day?”

“Yes?” He said, nervously.

“Eh, I love it anyway. It’s perfect.” You said and went back to kissing him.

Here, in the afterglow of day, we keep our rendezvous beneath the blue

Now, here he was, in the present day, at the same spot in the woods where he proposed to you. It had also become the place where you guys would get married unofficially. He was nervous to say the least. He was constantly tapping his foot to the point where Mike slapped him in the arm to stop him. Jonathan was his man of honor. Sure, it was a bit weird but they had become close friends ever since the demogorgon shit ended.

Meanwhile, Robin was your maid of honor. Ever since you walked into Scoops Ahoy for the first time, you instantly became best friends with Robin and saw her as the sister you never had. You guys would constantly team up and annoy Steve together which he would laugh at at first but eventually it got too overwhelming as both of you were good at pranks.

Max walked in with a bell and rang it too many times to count, but got the message through that it was time to start. Steve’s breath hitched as he saw you walk in. You looked so handsome in the white clothes you had picked out and he fell even harder for you. Hopper was walking you down the aisle and would also serve as the officiant. He didn’t even realize you had reached the center and were holding his hands.

He stared into your shining (e/c) eyes while reciting his vows which made him feel lucky as he’d be able to look at them everyday he’d wake up. After reciting your guys’ vows and sharing a kiss, you simply told him, “Guess “Harrington” did make it into my name.” He smiled as he looked at you, reminiscing about your guys’ first conversation.

Here in the sweet and same old way, I fall in love again as I did then

After the ceremony, Steve drove both of you to your guys’ new house. It was small but homey at the same time. When you guys arrived, Steve opened the door for you, picked you up and walked you guys inside. It was beautiful from the inside. You had already bought some furniture to accommodate it to your guys’ liking. Steve set you down and went to turn on the small radio you had sitting on a coffee table. Instantly, Twilight Time by The Platters started playing.

Steve moved closer to you and put a hand on your waist and held the other one, while you placed your free hand on his shoulder. You guys started dancing across the living room, matching the rythym of the song. He would dip you and move you guys across the room. As the song ended, he dipped you one last time, brought you back up and placed a deep kiss on your lips. “I’ll never get tired of this. I love you, (y/n) Harrington.”

“I love you too, Steve Harrington.”

FIN

#male reader #x male reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years ago

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Ten: When it Rains

a/n: hi besties!! This one is... tough I’m ngl to y’all. It is the second to the last chapter which is so wild to think about, but alas all good things must come to an end. Hopefully you don’t hate me too much by the end of it but feel free to vent in my inbox :))) much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor, ANGST (!!)

Word Count: 7.4 k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine

“Is that my shirt?”

“No,”

Alani squints at the cartoon bee printed on Harry’s white t-shirt and crosses her arms in disbelief.

“Yes it is! I’ve been looking for it everywhere,”

“Don’t worry, you can have it back soon,” he admits, crawling back into his bed with an apologetic kiss to her pouting lips. “Doesn’t smell like you anymore,”

“Thief,”

Harry scoffs and props himself up on an elbow. “Don’t act like my Spice World jumper isn’t hanging at the foot of your bed right now,”

“You left it there,” Alani defends. “I was merely being kind and looking after said hoodie because it was abandoned by its owner,”

“Oh yeah and you’ve fought real hard to reunite us,”

“Can we get back to the main issue at hand? Which is that I’m kinda pissed off that you look better in that shirt than I do.”

Harry chuckles to himself and presses an affectionate kiss to her temple. “You’re too kind.”

Alani rests her cheek against his chest and listens to the rain pattering harshly against the window, admiring the flashes of lightning that illuminate the dimly lit room. Harry had convinced her to stay the night, worried about her driving home alone in the storm, and he was met with very little resistance. Secretly, he thanks the rain gods for allowing him another night to hold her close.

********

“H, you gotta tell her,” Jeff had warned the previous night. “I already pushed the flight back a week—”

“I know,” Harry huffed. “I just need a little more time.”

Jeff sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “You have until this weekend when we go away with the girls. One week in Maui, and then it’s back home. I’m sorry.”

********

Harry’s stomach turns remembering the conversation, but he decides to push all the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the present.

“You all packed?” he asks, trailing his fingers up and down her arm.

Alani drapes her leg over his hip and nods. “Been packed since last week.”

She had been ecstatic the day after Mila and Chad’s wedding when Harry invited her to tag along on the couple’s trip with Jeff, Tom, and their significant others. His eagerness to include her in his friend group was not only reassuring, but exciting. It felt like their lives were coming together, even more so after she had introduced him to her parents. They, of course, had adored him and quickly given their seal of approval. While Alani knew that it was ultimately her choice, it still felt good to have support from the most important people in her life, and she hoped to win his friends over just as easily. Harry, on the other hand, had no doubts that she would fit right into his chosen family. Her name had been cautiously dropped during a weekly FaceTime call with his mother and sister, and he was overjoyed when they enthusiastically grilled him for details.

What Harry was less sure of, however, was how Alani would react upon hearing that his vacation was up and that he would be headed back to L.A. in a week’s time. It was still early in their relationship and an indeterminate break seemed less than ideal. He had tried to convince both Jeff and the label that he could finish the album in Hawaii, but the same couldn’t be said for Jeff Bhasker, Mitch, Tom, and his new bassist, Adam, who all had families waiting for them back on the mainland. It was too risky personally and financially, so Harry reluctantly negotiated one last week to persuade Alani that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be a death sentence.

“What d’you wanna watch?” he asks, sitting up against the headboard to turn on the T.V.

Alani sighs and settles deeper into his side. “When Harry Met Sally,”

“But it’s not Christmas or New Year’s,”

“So?”

“So,” Harry explains. “We have to wait ‘til the holidays, wouldn’t be right otherwise,”

Alani scoffs and peers up at him with a judgemental look. “So I guess Serendipity is also out of the question?”

“We’ll have all Christmas to get through that list, darlin’,”

Her stomach flips at his suggestion of their future holiday plans. Privately, she had wondered about such things, as well, including what gifts she might get him or where they would spend the holidays. Though still months away, it suddenly felt within reach.

“Fine,” Alani softens. “The Notebook,”

“And let you drool over what’s-his-face?” Harry pokes. “No fuckin’ way,”

Alani pinches his side and sits up. “Would you stop being insecure about that? I’ve already told you I was just kidding that time,”

“Yeah well, it still stings,”

“Why don’t you tell me your celebrity crush? You know, so I can be totally fine about it because it doesn’t mean anything,”

Harry shrugs, the corners of his lips turning into a playful smirk. “Don’t have one,”

“Liar,”

“M’serious,”

“Why, because you’ve already dated them?”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “That was a bit snippy,”

Alani’s muscles tighten. She hadn’t realized that his dating history was a sore spot, but she takes a deep breath and plants a sweet kiss to his jaw as an offering of peace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,”

“S’alright. Truce?”

“Deal,”

“Jennifer Aniston,”

“Huh?”

“My celebrity crush,” Harry explains shyly. “When I was younger,”

Alani giggles lightly. “I see. Good taste, she’s hot,”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna leave me for her too,”

“I just might,”

“Can’t say that I blame you,”

“Look I know this is a cute little bit we do,” Alani sits up, her gaze dead-set on Harry’s to communicate the seriousness behind her words. “But I just want you to know that I feel so lucky to be with you. I’m not going anywhere any time soon,”

Harry swallows harshly. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear and it kills him that he can’t return the sentiment with full honesty. A little less than a week is all he has to prove that even though he physically has to go, his heart will remain wherever Alani is. “Me either,”

Another round of thunder booms outside and the lights fizzle out, leaving the room completely dark save for the intermittent flashes of lightning that gently illuminate the room.

“So much for watching a movie, huh?” Alani sighs.

“I think I know some other ways we can keep ourselves entertained.”

********

Harry sets a steaming cup of tea down onto the table in front of Alani and she looks up from her tube of nail polish curiously. Harry flashes a dimpled grin in her direction and whistles a familiar tune, one that she had heard in the studio when he was busy doing his Bob Dylan impression.

“What’re you singing?”

“Hm?”

“The song,” she clarifies. “You were singing it the other day, what is it?”

Harry serves her plate of hash browns and shrugs. “Dunno, just a little tune ‘ve been workin’ on,”

“It’s nice,”

“Thanks, sweets,” he offers, setting her food down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey Alani,” Jeff interrupts, stepping into the kitchen with his cellphone pressed to his shoulder.

“Glenne wants to know if you’re okay with her setting up a spa thing for you guys,”

"Yeah, definitely,” Alani perks up.

“Cool, thanks.”

“Look at you,” Harry teases, taking a bite of his toast coated in strawberry jam. “Minglin’ with the girls,”

“They’re not even here yet,”

He scans over her appearance and his brows furrow, hit with the sudden realization that she’s dressed in formal attire.

“What’s with the fancy outfit”

“I have a meeting, remember?”

“With?”

Alani blows on her freshly painted nails and holds up her other hand for Harry to do the same.

“My senior advisor. We’re going over my research project,”

Harry’s brows raise. “Smarty-pants,”

Alani had scheduled her meeting with Dr. Hudson months ago and had, truthfully, forgotten all about it until she had received a courtesy email the day prior. She had been working on her proposal in the spare minutes she had away from Harry, which were few and far between, but she knew the initial meeting would be much more casual. Alani checks the time on her phone and stands quickly when she realizes that she is supposed to meet Dr. Hudson in less than thirty-minutes.

“Gotta go,” she offers, shoveling potatoes into her mouth and grabbing her bag.

Harry ceases blowing on her nails and kisses the back of her hand before sticking out his lips for a kiss of his own. “Good luck, darlin’. Meet me at the studio after?”

“Sure thing, sunshine. See you later.”

********

“How did the Joni Mitchell piece go? You never told me,” Dr. Hudson questions, taking a sip of her coffee.

Alani offers a shy smile and toys with the hem of her skirt. “A flop,”

“Just one more closer to the winner,”

“Yeah,” Alani sighs, stirring her smoothie. “Maybe it’s time to move on from that,”

The professor shoots her a disapproving look and sets her drink down. “Alani—”

“I just think maybe there’s more realistic—”

“You are not giving up,” Dr. Hudson reassures her. “You’ve come too far and you’re a terrific writer. One of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. These things take time,”

Alani nods gently, her lips pursed in a tight smile. “Thank you, that really means a lot,”

“What are you working on right now?”

Absolutely nothing, Alani thinks, but then she remembers the half-written article about Harry sitting in her files.

“A short piece about… a local musician,”

Dr. Hudson’s brows raise, intrigued, and she nods. “That sounds interesting. Definitely more personal,”

You have no idea. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not really anything—”

“I’d love to read it when you’re finished,” the professor continues. “What’s the scope?”

Alani thinks, trying not to give too much incriminating detail about her subject or their relationship.

“Well,” she starts, hesitant. “He’s writing new music and working on his first album. I guess I kind of want to follow his journey and redefinition of success in the music industry,”

Dr. Hudson hums. “I love it. Send me a draft.”

Alani swallows and takes a minute to consider the offer. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong about sharing her work privately with her advisor. She had been so excited about the potential of the article when it was first started, but it had since been neglected like so many of her other rejected pieces. Starting again seemed exciting, and she knew that Harry would be pleased to play such an important role in making her dreams come true. That had, after all, been the initial terms of their agreement.

“Okay,” Alani accepts. “I will.”

********

Harry draws out the last note and Mitch lets the chord ring between them for a moment.

“I think that’s the one,”

“Yeah, I liked that progression better,”

“Hope you got that, Bhasker,” Mitch calls to Jeff in the sound booth, who gives a thumbs up in response.

Harry continues humming, his head still bobbing to the tune, when he hears the studio door creak unpleasantly. His eyes shoot up to find Alani wincing and timidly stepping into the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,”

He softens and beckons her over. “Never an interruption, sweets,”

Alani slots herself between his legs and wraps her arms around his neck, giving a gentle peck to the tip of his nose before pressing their lips together.

“How’s the weather?”

“Just got a lot sunnier,”

“Meeting go well?”

She nods and twists a lock of his chestnut hair between her fingers. “Yeah, actually,”

“Then we should celebrate!” Harry perks up, peppering a kiss to her cheek. “Dinner, wine, movie, the whole shebang,”

Alani frowns, thinking back to the article she promised Dr. Hudson. “Hmmm, raincheck?”

Her boyfriend deflates. “You’re ditching me?”

“Just for one night,” she explains, pulling him closer. “I wanna finish up some school stuff before our trip. Otherwise I won’t be able to give you my full attention,”

Harry pouts, but he nods understandingly. “‘Kay,”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I’ll miss you tons,”

“Ditto, sweets,”

Alani presses her forehead against his and her fingertips wander through the growing curls at the nape of his neck. “Please don’t be upset,”

Harry smiles warmly and smoothes his hands up and down her back. “Never, m’love. Could never be upset with you,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, planting a sweet kiss to her lips. “Hey, I wanna play you somethin’,”

Alani grins and pulls back a bit to read his expression. “Let’s hear it,”

Harry grabs the guitar next to him and slings it over his shoulder before adjusting the capo. The song starts sweet and gentle, his voice light to match the tune.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It’s hard when we argue

We’re both stubborn I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Alani watches in awe as he pours so much emotion behind every word, his vocals effortlessly powerful and rich. She claps when the song finishes and leans in for a kiss.

“I love it,”

“S’not finished yet,” Harry shrugs, still fiddling with the strings. “Just the chorus right now,”

“Will you teach it to me?”

His brows raise in surprise. “You play?”

“No,” Alani admits. “But I have a feeling you’re a good teacher,”

“Well, let’s see what you got,”

Alani turns and Harry props the guitar in her lap, his arms wrapping around her as he guides her into the right position. His left hand demonstrates the beginning chord and she replaces his fingers on the fretboard to try for herself. She strums and the beginning note resonates in near-perfect pitch.

“Hey,” Harry beams. “You’re a regular Hendrix,”

He continues positioning her fingers over the right spaces and letting her strum, humming the lyrics softly into the shell of her ear.

“We don’t argue that much,” Alani defends playfully.

Harry chuckles and kisses her temple. “Maybe not, but we’re really good at makin’ up.”

“Easy, Styles.”

********

Harry: Hungry?

Alani peels her eyes away from the computer screen and reads the message lighting up her phone.

Alani: Not really

Harry: …

Harry: oh

She laughs and pads over to the window. Sure enough, Harry holds up two bags and flashes a cheesy grin down below.

“Need a study break?”

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

Harry makes himself comfortable in the middle of her bed and unpacks the bags.

“I’ve got a California and a spicy tuna for my favorite girl,” he announces. “With a side of eel sauce,”

“And the world's best boyfriend goes to Mr. Harry Styles,” Alani grins, taking a seat next to him.

He smirks and pulls out his own order of miso soup and sushi. “How’s the homework comin’ along?”

“Not too shabby,”

“Glad to hear it,”

“Hey, what time do I meet you at the airport tomorrow?” she asks, dipping her roll in the sauce.

Harry freezes and turns to her with confusion written all over his face. “I’m sorry, did my girlfriend just insinuate that we’re not leaving for the airport together?”

“I really need to finish this,” Alani explains. “It’s almost there,”

“Two nights?” he complains.

Alani nudges him with her shoulder and shakes her head. “We’re gonna be spending an entire week together, non-stop. You’re gonna get sick of me,”

“Never,” Harry rebuts. “Not possible,”

“Just one more night,” Alani bargains. “Then I’m all yours, no interruptions.”

He nods and takes a sip of his soup. “Alright, deal.”

You have to tell her, Jeff’s voice rings in his mind.

********

The airline stewardess ushers Harry and Alani to their seats while Scott and Miles settle down a few rows behind. She didn’t know exactly what to expect from first-class, but suddenly the perks of having a famous boyfriend increased tenfold by the sight of their luxurious accommodations.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Alani asks while Harry hovers over his chair.

“Sitting, or I was about to,”

“And you’re not even gonna offer rock-paper-scissors for the window seat?”

Harry shakes his head with an amused chuckle. “No because I already know that you’re gonna get up to pee every five minutes,”

“Not true,”

“It is too true and it’s exactly why we can’t cuddle while we fall asleep,”

“Or maybe the reason is because I’m claustrophobic and I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings,”

Harry frowns. “Really?”

“No,” Alani admits, taking the aisle seat. “I just said that so you’d give me the window,”

“Get up, we’re switching,”

“Thank you, sunshine! You’re the best,”

Harry slumps into his new chair and crosses his arms. “Forty-five minutes and we’re already fighting like an old married couple,”

“Oh really?” Alani smirks. “Is that what old married couples argue about? Who gets the window seat?”

“And leaving the toilet seat up, going antique shopping—”

“—What old married couples have you been hanging out with—?”

“—Picking up the kids from school,”

Alani presses a kiss to his shoulder and rests her head in the crook of his neck. Her eyelids are still heavy from staying up the night before, but her article was completely finished and sent off to Dr. Hudson just like she’d promised. Now, she could enjoy her vacation free of any worry or obligation, completely focused on the perfect boy still rambling next to her.

“But, obviously I mean that doesn’t count, right?” Harry asks, craning his neck and smiling softly when he sees that his girlfriend has already dozed off. He kisses the top of her head gently and lets his own eyes flutter close with a deep, contented breath.

********

“And then I’ll have to repaint it, but I haven’t decided on a color yet,” Glenne explains to Alani as they stroll through the airport.

Alani hums. “It was your grandmother’s?”

“Well, it was somebody’s grandmother’s. We picked it up at this little antique shop in Santa Monica.”

Jeff escorts Glenne into the shuttle car while Harry and Alani share a knowing look and stifle their laughter. They shuffle into the back seats as Tom and his wife, Jenny, claim the middle row.

“So you’re a journalist?” Jenny asks, turning in her seat eagerly to face Alani.

“Not quite,” she explains with a polite smile. “Still a student, but hopefully someday,”

Jenny nods and twirls the ring around her finger. “Sounds exciting. Maybe you can hitch a ride on tour with this one and do some writing there.”

“Yeah,” Alani smiles, settling further into Harry’s side. “Maybe.”

The idea of traveling the world with Harry and being a part of the excitement of touring the album was something she had considered briefly, but hadn’t allowed herself to fully indulge until this moment. It was already thrilling to see him polish the songs he had begun during his trip, but she could only imagine how much more special it would be to see him perform them for the rest of the world. A twinge of jealousy sparks at the thought of having to share any part of him with the public, but Alani knows that his gifts are much too special to keep all for herself. Harry was golden and he deserved to shine in all of his radiant glory. That was exactly what she had penned in her article, and she said it not because he was her boyfriend and there were clear personal investments, but because she knew it was true even before he had shown any romantic interest in her.

“What’s tour like?” Alani pipes up as Harry watches the landscape out his window.

He considers it for a moment and clears his throat. “Fun, mostly. Can be tiring,”

“Lots of partying and adoring fans?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “Not so much the partying. Enthusiastic fans, sure,”

Alani narrows her eyes. “No partying?”

“Nope,” Harry reiterates. “Don’t really like to do all that stuff when I’m working. Also just didn’t wanna…”

He trails off and Alani waits a beat to see if he’ll continue. “Didn’t wanna?”

“Fuck it up,” he finishes. “You know, like, be the one who ruined a good thing for a little bit of fun.”

She lets his words settle in, rubbing a reassuring circle on the back of his hand. “Makes sense. Sounds really responsible of you to do that.”

Harry presses a soft kiss to her temple and resumes his study of the scenery. They chat amongst their friends for the remainder of the drive and Alani immediately presses Glenne and Jenny for information about her boyfriend in his younger years. They indulge her inquiries and ask their own questions, deciding privately after a few minutes that her and Harry are a good fit.

When the group arrives at the resort, Glenne takes charge and instructs them all to meet at the lobby for lunch in twenty minutes. They collect their keys and head up to their respective rooms, which are all located on the very top floor.

“What a view,” Alani muses as she takes in the sight from their private balcony.

Harry admires the wonder on her face and nods, his eyes not leaving her side profile. “You’re tellin’ me,”

“Let’s never go home,” she poses, arms snaking around his torso. “Let’s stay here forever, just me and you,”

His throat tightens as he thinks back to the inevitable conversation waiting for them. Harry didn’t know why it was so hard to think about leaving because he had every intention of keeping touch and making their relationship work at all costs. But there was a part of him, a very tiny recess in the back of his mind, that feared the possibility of Alani not feeling the same.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “Whatever you want, sweets,”

Alani senses a shift in his demeanor, but she can’t read it. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Harry swallows, mustering up a small smile. “But I am hungry,”

She isn’t entirely convinced that there isn’t something bothering him, but she decides not to push it and tightens her grip around his waist, instead.

“Race you to the lobby.”

“You’re on.”

********

“You’ve never seen Finding Nemo?”

“Was I s’posed to?”

“My god,” Alani marvels. “You know, I’m starting to believe those rumors that you were grown in a lab,”

Harry’s brow raises and he blinks. “That I was what?”

The restaurant that Glenne and Jeff chose features an aquarium tunnel at the entrance, much to both Harry and Alani’s excitement. Fish, large and small, swim around them and the pair take turns pointing out their favorite colorful species. The Hull’s snap photos for their four year-old daughter, but Jenny also secretly captures one of Harry and Alani with their hands clasped under the mesmerizing blue lighting as a keepsake for her friend.

“Add Finding Nemo to our movie list,” Alani says, admiring a clownfish that swims close to the glass.

“S’it gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,”

“Goddamnit,”

Alani giggles softly and turns her head away from the glass to silently observe Harry under the lighting of the rippling water. The combination of his serene features and the sound of Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You over the sound system creates a perfect image in her mind, one that makes her afraid to blink, lest it be gone forever. Harry glances over at her through the corner of his eye and his lips curl.

“Checkin’ me out?”

“Always,”

“Like whatcha see?”

“Love it.”

His heart nearly stops at her words, but before he has a chance to process their implication, the hostess calls on their group.

“And I’ll have the piña colada,” Harry orders once they're seated.

“Oh my god, H,” Glenne laughs from across the table. “That reminds me, remember your birthday last year when James got trashed and hoarded the karaoke machine for, like, two hours?”

“Ruined that song forever,” Jeff quips, reliving the memory of the Late-Late host drunkenly serenading the entire party with the same song on repeat.

Harry cringes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to,”

Alani watches as they reminisce on the event, adding their own details and pieces to the puzzle. It’s amusing to watch, but a small part of her also has to fight the pang of exclusion settling into the pit of her stomach. She feels guilty for being affected by it knowing, logically, that it isn’t intentional or malicious in any way. Still, Alani is painfully reminded of the vast differences between their worlds. Harry had gotten to know practically every part of her life, including her family, but there was still so much that she didn’t know about his. It was something she worked hard not to dwell on, given the novelty of their relationship, but she also worried that fear and insecurity would prevent her from investing what little of her heart Harry hadn’t claimed yet.

“Who was it that started dancing on a table and almost broke a chandelier?” Tom asks, wracking his brain.

“I think it was Ken—” Jeff hesitates, clearing his throat. “Actually, I don’t remember,”

Harry shifts in his seat beside Alani and reads over the menu, quickly changing the subject. “What’re you gonna get?”

“I don’t know,” Alani admits. “Everything looks so good,”

“Oh look,” Jenny pipes up across from Harry. “They’ve got your fav, the mango sorbet. I wonder if it’s as good as the one in Italy,”

Harry beams and reads over the item. “Oh yeah, that was amazin’,”

Alani files the detail to the back of her mind. She hadn’t known mango was his favorite flavor of anything, and while it was a trivial detail, she realized that there were so still many little details about him that she wanted to know. Harry had made such an effort to remember everything about her, like her go-to sushi order and the fact that she always saved the kiwis for last in her fruit salad, so it made her feel a touch guilty that she hadn’t made the same effort.

“Wanna share the coconut shrimp?” Alani asks with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“Oh, uh—”

“He’s allergic,” Glenne says offhandedly, not cold or condescending, but more in the same way that an older sister would.

“Oh my god,” Alani’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry,”

Harry laughs lightly and shrugs. “S’okay, I’d let you poison me,”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Glenne apologizes, reaching her hand out to Alani. “I thought you knew.”

Alani accepts the hand and waves away her concern. “No, don’t worry about it. I didn’t know, actually.”

“We can stop talking about my defects now,” Harry teases. “‘M not dyin’,”

He leans in closer to Alani and presses a kiss to her temple. “But if I was, it’d be an honor to have my last meal with you.”

She responds with a soft smile before returning her attention back to the menu. His sentiments, however sweet, unfortunately did very little to soothe the embarrassment of her mini faux pas. It was irrational, Alani knew this, but it made her wonder what else she didn’t know and what bigger secrets he was potentially keeping. Whose name had Jeff meant to say earlier to identify the mystery dancer at Harry’s party, and why had it created an awkward shift in the air? She decides not to let the spiraling questions spoil her fun and takes a generous sip of her cocktail to avoid them for the time being.

********

Harry sets the room key on the nightstand next to their king sized bed and lets himself sink down into the soft mattress. The group had spent the entire day sightseeing, from botanical gardens to scenic beaches, but he was really itching for some quality time alone with Alani. Lately, their time together had been cut frustratingly short by work, school, and life in general. Even when they were seated right next to each other with arms linked or fingers interlocked, she felt far away and he didn’t know why. He hoped that this trip would allow them time to reconnect and solidify their relationship before he had to return to California.

“Mini bar,” Alani comments, kicking her shoes off and wandering over to the small refrigerator in their suite. “Who’s paying again?”

“The label,”

“Thank you Columbia Records,”

She swipes a few bottles of tequila before climbing into the bed next to Harry.

“Wanna play a game?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and nods. “What kinda game?”

“Never have I ever,” Alani explains. “But instead of putting your finger down, you take a shot,”

“Sounds dangerous,”

“It’ll be fun. You can go first if you want,”

He hums and nods in agreement before sitting up to face her. “‘Kay. Never have I ever...named my car after a musician,”

“Cheap shot,” Alani narrows her eyes, taking a sip from the bottle of Jose Cuervo.

“Your turn,”

She fiddles with the bottle cap, a question already in mind, though she isn’t sure if she should ask it.

“Never have I ever… dated a model,”

Harry’s brow furrows, but he opens his own bottle slowly and takes a sip. “So it’s that kind of never have I ever,”

“Just trying to keep it interesting,” Alani shrugs innocently.

“Right. Never have I ever slept with a guy named David,”

Her eyes widen, but she laughs half-heartedly and takes a sip. “Jeez, okay. Never have I ever—”

“Wait, so you two actually…” Harry interrupts, trailing off at the end.

“I mean,” Alani starts, her eyes wandering to the ceiling. “Yeah, a long time ago,”

“How long ago?”

“Okay, maybe this was a mistake—”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll play nice,”

“Alright,” Alani accepts. She knows that she should probably steer the game back onto safer territory, but the wound has been re-opened and she can’t resist the urge to keep picking at it. “Never have I ever slept with a fan,”

Harry takes a slow sip. “Never have I ever cheated on my partner,”

The bottle stays put in Alani’s hand. “Never had I ever gone on a vacation with my partner before this trip,”

The tequila washes over his tongue bitterly like the faint memories that it symbolizes. “Never have I ever dated someone just for the publicity,”

The bottle in Alani’s hand doesn’t move, much to Harry’s relief, but her mind is not as tranquil.

“Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t,” she says slowly.

Harry takes another shot and it burns all the way down. “Why are we doin’ this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna play anymore,”

“Alani,” he starts, springing to his feet when she leaves the bed. “Hey, look at me, please,”

She blinks back the tears that threaten to spill over her lower lashes before turning to him. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid game,”

“S’just all out of context,” Harry offers, reaching for her hands. “Wasn’t the right way to have all of those conversations,”

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, you’re right,”

“What’s really botherin’ you, hm sweets?” He coos, bringing her cold knuckles to his warm lips. “Tell me, please?”

She releases a shaky breath and tries to sift through the fog in her brain for the right answer.

“I don’t know, really, I just,” Alani hesitates. “Am I a bad girlfriend?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, his hands lifting to cup her face. “God no, you’re the best,”

“Then why didn’t I know that your favorite ice cream flavor was mango? And why didn’t I know that you were allergic to coconut, and why—”

“Hang on, is that what this is all about?” he questions. “Cause I’ll go eat an entire coconut right now,”

Alani laughs lightly and pinches her eyes shut. “No, it’s not about that. I just feel like you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and you make me feel so fucking special and, God, I just wanna be good enough for you because—”

Harry holds his breath and watches as her eyes gloss over.

“Because I love you,” she finishes, voice small. “More than I ever thought possible,”

His own eyes sting, but he doesn’t fight the tears that fall as he presses his lips to hers firmly.

“I love you, too,” Harry murmurs. “I love you so fuckin’ much it drives me crazy,”

Alani chuckles softly. “Ditto,”

“I’ve been wanting to say it for ages, can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Guess you’re not the only one full of surprises.”

********

The early morning sunlight creeps gently into Harry and Alani’s room, casting a soft, golden glow onto the bare skin that peeks through the white duvet. Harry stirs first, a strand of Alani’s hair tickling his nose and making him smile. He prys his heavy eyelids open and winces at the dull aching of his head aggravated by the light. Alani hears his muffled groan and sighs, willing the sun to go back down and let her sleep a few more hours.

“Mornin’ sweets,” he rasps with a warm kiss to her bare shoulder.

She peels her own tired eyes open and flashes a sleepy grin. “Good morning, sunshine,”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Super. You?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and rests his chin in his palm as he admires the traces of sleep still on her face.

“Just swell.”

Alani chuckles lightly and reaches a hand up to comb through his unruly bedhead. His skin is warm to the touch, and the light from the window casts a heavenly glow around his visage. She pokes her finger into his dimple, which elicits a soft laugh and makes his smile grow wider. They stay intertwined under the sheets as the sun fully rises and soak up their own details to keep as souvenirs from this moment. Alani takes in the scent of vanilla and the juxtaposition of Harry’s inked bicep against the plain, white sheets. He stores away the image of her sleepy, mocha eyes and the pink, manicured fingernails that trail up and down his arm. Neither of them are sure exactly how long they remain in this moment, for all they know it could be hours or days. But whatever the duration, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I need more time, Harry had told Jeff, but there was no more left to give. He had to tell her, and it was now or never.

“Hey,” he begins carefully. “I need to tell you something,”

Alani sits up to be eye level with him and nods. “Anything,”

Harry waits a beat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder before letting the confession spill out.

“I have to go back to L.A.,”

“I kinda figured,”

He draws in a deep sigh of relief. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Alani shrugs. “Hilo isn’t exactly Hollywood,”

“I asked for more time, but the label—”

“No, I get it. So… when? Next month?”

“Friday,”

Alani’s brows furrow. “This Friday?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits with a gulp.

“The last day of our trip?”

“Yes,”

Her heart drops into her stomach and she feels sick. It all made sense now why Harry’s mood had shifted when she jokingly asked him not to leave, and why he had been so insistent on spending as much time together as possible this week. Their game of never have I ever turned instantly defensive when asked about his dating history. Never had I ever gone on vacation with my partner before this trip. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t. He had whisked her away on a farewell trip and God knows who else had been in her place before, or worse, who would be in it next. Harry was saying good-bye.

“Wait,” Alani says finally, mind still racing too fast to process. “How long have you known?”

“Alani—”

“How long?”

Harry swallows. “Couple of weeks,”

“You knew for weeks and you didn’t tell me?” she questions incredulously.

“I tried—”

“You know that I hate surprises, you know how I feel about plans—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry insists, sitting up straighter. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but it just never felt right,”

Alani rolls her eyes. “So what, you were just gonna leave a fucking sticky note on my pillow and hope for the best?”

“Don’t say that—”

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asks, voice hoarse. “Is that why you gave me this necklace? A souvenir of our little summer fling so you could leave with a clear conscience?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “How could you even think that?”

“Because maybe it’s true. Why else would you wait until the very last minute to tell me about this?”

“Maybe we should take a minute,” he suggests, the whites of his eyes now bloodshot. “Before we say something we’ll regret,”

“I think I already did.” Alani admits. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t.

Harry’s head pounds and he feels like he’s drowning, treading water in every direction only to be dragged further into the current. He quickly pulls on his clothes from the night before and tries to steady his breathing.

“M’gonna go wait in the hall,” he offers. “Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Alani doesn’t respond or even meet his pleading eyes. She simply tightens the duvet around her body and turns her head to the window, letting a single, bitter tear roll down her cheek. The door closes softly and she is immediately filled with regret and guilt. Had she truly meant all of the things she said? Or was it fear and the instinct to flee taking over her mouth? Alani wanted to believe that she was wrong and that Harry hadn’t intentionally kept her in the dark, but from where she stood, the sun had long disappeared behind the clouds and all that was left was the storm.

Harry trudges down the hallway and the walls spin, closing in on him slowly. If he had just told Alani sooner, everything would be different. He had avoided doing so for this exact reason and out of fear that their relationship wouldn’t be worth the risk in her mind. It was selfish—he was selfish—to try to make the decision for her, and now the woman he loved was getting ready to walk away because he had broken her trust. What else was there to do? His back meets the wall and he sinks to the floor.

“Hey H,” Jeff clears his throat from above. “We should talk,”

“She knows. Didn’t go well,”

“So she did approve the article?”

Harry lifts his head and his brows furrow. “What?”

There’s a harsh knock at the door and Alani jumps. In Harry’s absence, she had managed to cool off and sift through her frantic thoughts. She had been wrong to think that he used her, all it took was a quick stroll down memory lane to prove otherwise. He had never given her any true reason not to trust him, so there had to be some other reason why he hadn’t told her about his plans to leave so soon. Alani pads over to the door and unlocks it gently.

“Harry, I’m sor—”

“Wanna talk about surprises?” he seethes. “What the fuck is this?”

She squints at the phone screen that he holds up to her face and the title of her unpublished article stares back at her.

“I don’t know—”

“Well it has your goddamn name on it,” Harry shoots back.

Alani steps aside and lets him into the room before she closes the door behind her. “I can explain—”

“Did you write it or not?”

“Yes, but—”

He shuts the phone off and slams it face down onto the night stand. “How fucking dare you call me a liar and then pull this shit behind my back,”

“I didn’t lie,” Alani defends, voice weak. “I had no idea it was going to be published, please just listen—”

“A class project,” he interrupts with his back still turned. “That’s what you said,”

“It was never meant to be released,”

“How do I know that? How do I know you’re not just trying to cover your ass?”

“Please,” Alani begs as her vision begins to blur. “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said all those things,”

Harry runs a hand through his hair and casts his eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to quell the emotion that pools behind his eyes.

“So why did you?”

“I was scared,”

“Of?”

Alani takes a deep breath. “Of losing you for good. Of falling in l—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t finish that sentence,”

“I don’t know how,” she tries again. “And I don’t know who released it, but I swear—”

“You really expect me to trust a word you say after you accused me of lying about this whole thing, about us?”

Harry’s gaze lowers back to hers and the bright, green eyes that she has come to love are replaced with a blood-shot, stormy sea that makes her stomach drop. The words get caught in her throat.

“I fucked up,” he continues. “I know that I should’ve told you. But I’m having a hard time believing that this wasn’t planned, that this random website would just accidentally publish your work without your consent,”

Alani can’t explain it either, she truly had no idea how her writing had ended up in the wrong hands. There was only one other person she had entrusted it with, but surely Dr. Hudson hadn’t betrayed her, had she? Alani didn’t know who to believe anymore.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she tries. “I didn’t mean what I said, and I know I can’t take it back, but you have to at least believe that I never wanted to hurt you,”

Harry is silent for a moment, and Alani decides that it’s her turn to tell the truth. There was nothing left to lose.

“At first, I did want to publish it,” she explains. “But I changed my mind and I scrapped the whole thing. In the end, the only person I intended to show it to was you,”

“So how did it get onto the internet for the whole fucking world to see?” he presses.

Alani sighs. “My advisor wanted to know what I was working on, so I sent it to her, but she never had my permission to publish it. Now I realize how stupid it sounds, but it’s the truth,”

“If you had come to me, I would have given you permission,”

“I’m so sorry,”

Harry’s shoulders tense. Every fiber of his being wants to believe her, but how could he? She had told him herself that things would be messy and warned him that he didn’t know what he was asking by pursuing a relationship with her. Maybe it really was all his fault for not seeing the signs, but that still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t trust her anymore. And based on her reaction to the news of his departure, it seemed as though Alani didn’t trust him either.

“Even if you’re telling the truth,” Harry begins, slow and deliberate. “You still thought, after everything, that I would abandon you. And if that’s the kind of person you think I am, if that’s the person you wrote about—”

“Harry—”

“Then I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

“Please, don’t go.” Alani cries but it’s too late. The door slams and her heart falls.

After a beat, she races to the door and into the hallway but there’s no sign of Harry. As quickly as he had appeared into her life, he had vanished. Gone without a trace.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #ybmh #sorry besties <3

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clairecrive · 4 years ago

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Hey! I adore your writing omg!! I have a slightly specific Remus Lupin angst ask for you I hope it's okay. :3 Sooo Y/N and Remus are married, both teaching in Hogwarts and being the part of the Order. When at the wedding the DEs are coming, Remus wants Y/N to leave and run away, he's so upset and everything, but she refuses to leave him, and later they're arguing about it and there's sadness and all but at the end everything turns out fine. SORRY if this is too much, but thank you in advance <33

Aftermath

a/n: Omg another one for my precious boy! I’m so happy, thank you so much x Although I have to say, writing angst for him it’s hard, ‘cause he deserves all the happiness in the world.

word count: 670

warnings: angst but fluffy ending

tags: @seldomabsent

“How could you?” Remus' voice was the only thing that could be heard in miles. It had been going on for a while and y/n was genuinely surprised that he hadn't lost his voice by now seeing how he was screaming.

Seeing him like this and hearing him raise his voice was a weird sight. Remus never raised his voice. He was the epitome of calmness.

“I’ve told you to run away, I’ve told you it wasn’t safe! And what do you do? Of course you disregard everything I say.” He was ranting, asking question merely for the intonation but he didn't stop to let her answer. He didn't need to hear one. He just needed to vent. Y/n knew him well, a decade of marriage would do that to a person, so he let him do his thing.

Cradling a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, basking in the warmth it provided she let his words wash over her. But it had been thirty minutes since he had started and she was getting tired. She understood he was angry but she had been in the fight too and was tired.

“Seeing how long we’ve been together, Remus, one would have thought that you’ve learned by now that you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh, but I know. I know perfectly well that you’re a stubborn witch.”

“Oh come off it, Remus. You’re not always right and I honestly cannot believe how you’d think of giving me orders and expect me to follow them.”

“Those were not orders, y/n.” His anger was now settling and mostly sounded defeated and tired.

“You screaming at my face to run? Then what was it?”

“Me caring for you.” he boasted, collapsing under the tension he fell down onto the chair. “I can’t lose you,” he added in a whisper. His head between his hands, his voice trembling.

Sighing, y/n kneed down in front of him. She knew that it was his anger talking fueled by his fear. The party had gone sour in a heartbeat and before they could understand what was going on, people around them were dying. People who they had known and fight alongside for years.

Of course Remus would think of getting her safe. Y/n understood where he was coming from and wasn’t really mad at him. She could understand him because she had the same thought. To get him safe.

They had already lost so much, so many loved ones. Neither of them could bear to lose anyone else. Especially their partner.

And that was why y/n had put her foot down and categorically refused to leave if he wasn’t by her side. Knowing Remus, he never would have left without making sure that everyone else was safe.

So they stayed and they fought. Back to back as they always would whenever they’d go on a mission together. Performing spells, fighting off the enemy in a familiar choreography they had rehearsed and mastered during the first wizard war. They were just kids back then and so much had changed but there were some things that stayed the same.

Remus had been her rock just like she had been his. They’ve only had each other after the first wizard war ended, the loss of their best friends taking a hard toll on them and their relationship. But they got through it. Of course they had.

So, she’ll be damned if she let anything happen to him now. This beautiful wounded man in front of her had already suffered enough.

“I can’t lose you either.” she said gently cradling his face in her hands.

When his eyes met hers, she realized that he was on the verge of tears. She knew that it was the adrenaline rush and the aftermath of the battle getting the best of him. But she couldn’t help it, seeing him so worn out broke her heart and soon she was in tears.

And so here they were, all bruised and dirty with the blood of the ones that fell, hanging desperately onto each other like their lives depended on it.

#clairecrive 1k celebration #anon request #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin angst #remus lupin one shot

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amyscascadingtabs · 4 years ago

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when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

She realizes Jake and Amy have never gotten to keep anything about their relationship secret; not their pining, not becoming a couple, not getting engaged, or even trying for a baby. She supposes they deserve to keep something to themselves for once, even if they’re worthless at it.

Or, Rosa has always been strangely involved in Jake and Amy's relationship, and the two of them becoming parents doesn't appear to change this.

read on ao3 ✨

...

“You’re really not going to drink that?”

Amy gives the glass of Shaw’s finest - and only - charbonnay a look like she's worried it will bite her.

They’re having a celebration, Holt has announced, to one month without Madeline Wuntch. Then he’d seemed teary by those words, telling the squad it was also to honor her memory. No one’s certain what's going on, but no one minds the free alcohol either.

Except, it seems, Amy.

“I’m driving.”

“Don't you and Jake always take an Uber home?”

“We’re trying to save money.”

“For what?”

“Fertility treatments are expensive,” she says, too quickly and too comfortably. “I don't want to talk about it, Rosa.”

Rosa knows she’s being rude, but she can't help it. She had to be sure. She’s both a detective and a master of secret-keeping, skilled enough to sense from fifty feet away when someone else is guarding them, and she's had a feeling about this particular secret for weeks.

She’d give herself credit, but it’s not like it’s been difficult to figure out. Amy literally told Rosa the day after she and Jake decided to start trying, whispering the words to her with a giddy smile as soon as they were alone in the break room. It became public knowledge rather quickly, and it’s not like the couple was working hard on keeping it a secret when they got wasted during Hitchcock’s wedding, high-fived after Amy’s drunken toast, and proceeded to try and fuck in the guinea pig-closet.

(Honestly? Rosa was impressed.)

They took a break from it shortly after that. Then, Amy started eating some kind of hormonal stimulation medication and morphed into one of the most emotional, irritable Amy-s Rosa had ever seen. Then she got weird.

It started with her and Jake avoiding Shaw’s. Sometimes Jake would show up to have a drink or two with Charles, but he'd never stay longer than half an hour. Terry asked about it once, joking that he wondered whether Amy just didn't like the squad anymore, at which point Jake laughed nervously and changed the topic.

Now, Rosa’s noticed that Amy’s coffee intake has gone down from three or four cups a day to one and a half at max. She makes a point of sitting as far away from Boyle and his lunches as possible. She’s begun to seem distant, always slightly distracted in conversation, and she gravitates towards Jake even more than usual. Several times now, Rosa’s found them in a corner of the corridor, whispering together and stopping the moment they notice her.

So yeah, she’s figured their secret out alright, and no, she doesn’t believe they’re planning to adopt a monitor lizard and that’s why Jake was searching baby names on his computer the other day.

What Rosa doesn’t understand is why Amy doesn’t tell her. She can keep a secret. She was the one who bought every kind of pregnancy test she could find in the bodega when Amy was freaking out at the manhunt, and the one who listened when she finally admitted that trying to conceive was starting to stress her out. If Amy can share something so personal with her, venting her little heart out over a drink in a lone corner of Shaw’s late one evening, Rosa doesn't get why she can't share this.

“So you're doing the treatments, then?”

“I just said I don't want to talk about it,” Amy snaps, then sighs and leans her head in one hand. “Sorry. Tired.”

“You’ve taken a bunch of days off recently, haven't you?”

“I had a family emergency,” she says, and Rosa knows she's lying through her teeth. No one ever uses that line when they're really having a family emergency. “Hey, why are you interrogating me?”

“Just making conversation,” Rosa shrugs. If Amy can lie, so can she. “You want a soda or something instead?”

“I’m good. Thanks for the gesture, though.” She lifts the wine glass in her hand, still looking at it warily. “I’ll just... give this to Jake. Talk to you later?”

“Sure. Later.”

Amy gives her a careful smile, sliding off the barstool and heading towards the table where Jake has joined Terry, Sharon, and the Captain. Rosa watches as Jake makes space for her, his whole demeanor lighting up when he sees her. She places the glass next to his beer, whispering something underneath her breath, and Jake nods before taking it from her and swallowing half of it in quick sips. It’s not even subtle, Rosa thinks.

She's just about to wonder where Charles is and why he isn’t in that same booth asking overly invasive questions when he joins her on the same barstool Amy just left.

“Hey, Ro-ro.” He must’ve had a few drinks already, she deduces from the nickname.

“I’ve told you never to call me that unless you want your tires slashed.”

Charles ignores her. “You're noticing it too, right? With Amy?”

“You mean her acting even weirder than normal? Yep. Pretty sure everyone’s noticed.”

An elated grin appears on Charles’ face, so wide it shows his teeth. Rosa scrunches her nose. “I think I know why.”

“It’s really not hard to guess.”

“That's not why I know!” The shrill, drunken voice earns them a confused glance from Jake, and Rosa shoots Charles a warning glare to make him lower his volume. “Sorry,” he whispers. “It's just - I woke up one night, and I knew.”

“That you're unhealthily obsessed with your best friend's marriage and it's creepy?”

“Pfft. No. I already knew that. I woke up, and I could feel it. Amy’s -”

“Pregnant, yeah. We all figured it out.”

“I can sense it, Rosa.” He gives her a serious nod, the eye contact almost unnerving. “This is not about some groundless guess, some circumstantial evidence… this is real.”

“... yeah. So?”

“So? So! We have to tell them we know! I don't understand why they're keeping this to themselves!”

Rosa bites her lip. She knows where Charles is coming from. She was thinking it too, watching her best friend get nervous just from holding a glass of wine and scrambling to come up with a fake excuse to avoid it. She doesn't get why this has to be a secret. Everybody knows they've been trying, and it's so obvious something is up that even Hitchcock and Scully seem to be taking notice at this point. She could walk over to that table right now and tell Jake and Amy she knows, everyone knows, and they don’t have to pretend or keep this a secret when everyone is happy for their sake.

And yet Rosa stays where she is, because while she laughs at their futile attempts of keeping it on the down-low, she knows why.

It feels like it’s never going to happen at this point, Amy had whispered to her just two months ago. Like it’s not meant to be.

That’s bullshit, Rosa replied, but Amy shook her head.

She knows this has been a long journey for Jake and Amy. She also knows the fear that comes with gaining something you’ve spent a long time fighting for, then worrying that the universe is messing with you, and you’ll wake up tomorrow finding it was all a dream. There’s a reason Rosa’s kept nearly all her relationships secret until her partners have been begging to meet the squad, and it goes beyond her just being a private person.

“We can’t tell them we know,” she decides. Charles opens his mouth to protest, but Rosa hushes him.

“But -”

“Nope, Boyle. Look, I get that it's obvious, but it's their choice. Just because you told everyone the moment you decided to adopt doesn't mean Jake has to tell every perp he arrests that he's going to be a dad.”

Charles looks down at his shoes and swallows the last of his free wine. “I just want to celebrate with them. Seven years I’ve waited for this - ”

“You’ll get to celebrate with them. They can't keep it a secret forever. Maybe they're just waiting until the twelve-week mark or something.” Rosa takes a swig of her whiskey. “It can't be that much longer anyway. She's going to start showing at some point, right? Makes no sense to hide it from us after that. I mean, what’s she going to do? Wear a hazmat suit?”

Charles sighs. “Yeah, yeah. You're right.”

He gives Jake and Amy a longing look. Jake has his arm around Amy now, and she’s resting her head on his shoulder, eyes closed like she’s moments from falling asleep. Jake whispers something to her, lips brushing against her forehead, and she blinks before mumbling something back. Small, tender gestures of affection, the kind that would drive Rosa crazy if it was anyone else, but ones she’s gotten used to with them. After the stress and lack of romance Amy described to her during the months they were trying, it even makes her happy to see.

It must be making Charles happy, too, because he’s tearing up.

“Anyway,” he says before Rosa can tell him to stop crying. “I’m going to go vent about this over the phone to Genevieve so I don’t go crazy. Good talk, Ro-ro.”

“Don’t”, she warns him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

Jake and Amy stand up only a minute after, grabbing their jackets and saying their goodbyes. Amy meets eyes with Rosa for a second, mouthing a quick bye, and Rosa nods in return. She watches them as they make their way out of the bar, arms still around each other, and hides a smile when she sees Jake’s hand rest softly against Amy’s stomach through her sweater. It's only a second before Amy moves it away, looking around in fear that someone will have noticed, but it’s enough for Rosa to know.

She might be a good detective, but Jake and Amy also happen to be the world’s worst secret-keepers.

...

There was more than one reason as to why Rosa Diaz dropped out of medical school, but right now, as she’s flipping through the pages of the very detailed and very graphic book she found on Jake’s desk, she can only remember the one.

It was the second day on her final rotation in third year - obstetrics and gynecology - and for some reason, her supervisor thought it’d be a useful and educational experience for her to be part of a birth. She wouldn't have to do anything, just observe and learn. Not one to complain, Rosa had accepted, put on her gloves, and entered the delivery room with a forced upbeat smile on her face.

At the end of the day, that smile had since long been wiped off, as had what felt like a bucket of blood, goo, and other equally gross, slimy stuff. Also, Rosa had dropped out of medical school.

She’d observed during surgeries, been puked on by sick and screaming children, and once met a patient with a broken arm where the bone was sticking out, but childbirth had been the final straw. Three years of medical school and thousands of dollars in student debt went down the drain. She applied to business school in hopes of making up the money and told herself she hadn’t been that crazy about med school in the end. Having to put on a smile and be polite to needy patients wasn’t her thing anyway, and at least in business school, people were upfront about being jerks.

Sixteen years had passed since the day Rosa almost threw up from watching the so-called miracle of life. Tonight, it seemed she was about to unwillingly witness it again.

A drawn-out, pained moan brings Rosa back to reality, where Amy has since long given up all attempts of hiding her contractions. She glances at her watch, grimacing as she realizes it's the third contraction in five minutes coming to an end. Amy's started leaning with her elbows on the pool table for the duration of them, muttering a creative string of curses in mixed English and Spanish, and it might have looked funny if it wasn't seeming like this baby was about to be born in the break room.

“Fuck this shit,” Amy mumbles, and Rosa can only agree. “Fuck everything about this. This wasn't how it was supposed to - fuck.” She goes down on her elbows again, swaying from side to side. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Well worded.”

“Shut up.”

“They're getting worse?”

“Mm-hmm.”

All traces of the confident sergeant that insisted she didn’t need to go to the hospital, who’s spent the blackout answering every offer to help with a razor-sharp remark about how they could help her best by following her orders, seem to have disappeared. When Amy exhales, Rosa can see tears in her eyes, a reserved expression of panic amid the frustration.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to be,” she repeats as she sits down on the well-stained couch. “Look. I wasn’t even that picky, okay? I didn’t need a super wholesome and peaceful dream experience or anything. As long as everything went well, the baby was okay and I was okay. But I wanted a hospital,” she sniffles. “And I wanted Jake there. I didn’t think that was too much to a-aa…”

She leans against the side of the couch this time, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth through another contraction. Rosa feels helpless. It’s not a feeling she has often, and it’s not one she's a fan of. She reaches out to gently pat Amy’s back, but it feels awkward, so she stops.

“It wasn’t too much to ask,” she says. “But you’re not going to make it to the hospital. So we're going to need another plan.”

“The firefighters.” Amy blushes. “I know we hate them, but…”

“They’re basically a bunch of glorified EMTs who sleep in bunk beds. Meaning, they can deliver a baby in an emergency.”

Amy nods, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing her hand against the top of her stomach. “I don’t want to do this to him, Rosa.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if this doesn’t go well? What if he won’t be okay? What if something happens and it’s my fault because I couldn’t go to the hospital? What if this makes me a terrible mom?”

Amy’s eyes are wide and she’s chewing on her lip, and Rosa thinks she would start braiding her hair if it wasn't already in a messy ponytail. Most of her worries sound like straight-up insanity to Rosa’s ears, but she supposes that wouldn’t be the right thing to tell Amy at this moment.

“You think you’re the first woman ever to give birth outside of a hospital?” She asks instead. “Because you’re not. That baby’s going to be fine. He’ll probably plop right out onto the floor -”

“Oh my god, don't let him touch the floor!”

“Fine. No floor. Whatever. But you can do this.” She stares right back at Amy and channels all the persuasion she has inside of her. “Okay?”

Amy hiccups. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I.”

Amy groans and stands up to lean against the pool table again, doing the same rhythmic swaying with her hips. A uniformed officer gives her a curious look as he walks past.

“It’s what we’re doing, though. So get it together.” Rosa regrets it the moment she says it and Amy freezes. For a split second, Rosa wonders if she’s going to punch her, or at the very least yell something, but Amy just looks surprised before letting out a noise sounding vaguely like a cackle.

“Did you just tell me to get it together?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Rosa shakes her head. “Just - stay here while I go get a firefighter. Try not to give birth while I’m gone.”

Three firefighters are still hanging around the bullpen, drinking coffee from paper cups and laughing at some anecdote. Rosa scrunches her nose at them from a distance. She wonders why she didn't force Amy into a car to the hospital hours ago, but it's too late now. No matter how much she hates the fire department and how humiliating she finds it to have to ask for their help twice in one day, she loves her friend just that little bit more. Marginally, but still more.

In an ideal world, Rosa would have wished a luxurious birthing suite with a wide range of pain relief, some nerdy relaxing music like the Harry Potter soundtrack, skillful doctors, and Jake there for her best friend to go through something as terrible as labor with - but since none of that seems to be in the realm of possibility anymore, the least she can do is make sure there’s some kind of a medical professional there. She owes Amy that much.

Rosa grabs the arm of the firefighter standing closest to her. He’s short but muscular with a beard that reminds her of a childhood best friend’s stay-at-home dad, giving out a caring and reliable energy in the midst of the precinct’s inferno. He feels safe, and although Rosa’s never given birth herself, she imagines that’s a valuable trait for the situation.

“Need any help?” Even his smile is like taken out of a pamphlet for parent cooperatives and terrace-houses with collective barbeques.

“I do. Have you ever delivered a baby before?”

“Oh, that's a funny story!” He chuckles. “I’ve actually delivered three. They're great stories, you should hear -”

“Cool, cool, cool, don't have time, don't care. Wanna deliver a fourth? Like, tonight? Right now?”

Without waiting for a reply, she drags him to the break room.

Judging from the strained expression and eyes clenched shut, Amy’s in the middle of a contraction when they return.

“I found a firefighter.” Rosa points to their new companion. “This is, uhm -”

“Curt.”

“Huh. Anyway, he's delivered three babies before, and they're all fine. Well, I think. He can help. Right?”

“Absolutely!” Curt nods. “You’re Amy, right? Tell me where we're at.”

“Contractions at one to one and a half minute apart, lasting about thirty to forty seconds,” Rosa fills in for her friend, pointing to her watch.

“Can you talk through them?” Curt looks to Amy, who shakes her head with her lips pressed together before exhaling.

“Not anymore. There's -” She screws up her face. “Ouf. Pressure.”

“Pressure like you need to push?” Curt’s voice is calm, even though Rosa can't for the life of her understand how. Amy nods shortly.

Rosa stares at her. “Are you sure?”

Amy stares back with a death glare, and Rosa holds up her hands in retreat.

“Okay, not going to question you on that. Cool.”

“Well, that answers my question,” says Curt, the most cheerful one in the room by far. “I’ll get my emergency kit and we'll make some space on the couch. Let's do this!”

“I'm scared,” Amy whispers once they're alone again. Her timid voice is a sharp contrast to her earlier groans and screams. Rosa looks at her and sees the same Amy she comforted during long nights when Jake was in Florida, the Amy that shines through every time her husband's in danger again, no matter how hard she tries to suppress it. Rosa's never been great at comforting, but she could never leave her best friend like this. That instinct is just enough to overpower some of her hate for the situation.

“I know,” she says, stroking away a few pearls of sweat from Amy’s forehead. “But you’re going to be okay.”

“You really think so?”

She nods, and it seems to be a relief to Amy, who manages a tentative smile in return. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

In the end, it’s probably Hitchcock and Scully - and maybe Lieutenant Peanut Butter - who end up being the most unlikely heroes of the day, but when the ambulance finally arrives to relieve her of her duties, Rosa’s still pretty damn proud of herself.

If only Dr. Mervin could have seen me now, she thinks as she burns the afterbirth-covered outfit, remembering the snarky supervisor who had simply nodded and shut the office door in her face when Rosa told her she would be dropping out.

She’s never, ever, delivering a baby again, though.

...

Rosa’s not crazy, so she waits a few days after Jake and Amy come home from the hospital before she asks to visit.

Even then, she’s careful. She remembers how militant Gina was with her minimal-visitors policy after Iggy was born, how she demanded everyone who came brought food and offered to clean up because she ‘sure as hell wasn’t doing any of that crap five days after pushing a living human out of her vagina’, and the last thing she wants is to be a nuisance to two new parents who are probably exhausted as is.

Mac is a week old the day Rosa texts Jake and Amy to ask if she can come over. She assures them that it's okay if they're too tired, that she can bring food if they want, but it's only ten minutes before Amy's replied Not necessary, you're always welcome and Jake's added Mac misses his auntie Ro-Ro. The nickname makes her touched, and she wonders briefly who she's become.

She brings food anyway, a hearty chicken stew made from a family recipe, plus a batch of oatmeal cookies; she’s got manners, and, well, she's not an animal.

It's Jake who opens. He looks surprised to see her, even though they were just texting hours ago.

“Hey, Diaz.” He can't have washed his hair in a while. It looks crazy, curls and tufts sticking up in random patterns, it doesn't look like he's shaved and his outfit seems taken from the days when they worked that apartment murder that drove them both insane. At least he’s wearing pants this time. Sweatpants, but Rosa supposes he's got an excuse.

“Amy's in the bedroom with Mac,” he explains before she can ask. “They were napping, but I just heard him start crying and instantly go quiet again, so now I’m guessing they’re nursing. They’ll be out soon.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him. “I came to see you, too.”

She’d expected their apartment to be way messier, but it looks surprisingly neat. The dining table has been taken over by flowers and greeting cards, there are bottles drying next to the sink and a baby swing next to the armchair, but the space is still tidy. Rosa’s impressed, and a little worried about Amy.

“I brought food,” she says, putting the first container on the kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, you did? I’m sure it's even edible!” Jake lights up. “Charles has given us loads too, but, y’know. I love him, but he's Charles, and anything he cooks is also… Charles.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.” He gives the chicken stew a closer look, poking at the plastic lid. “This looks great. Thanks, Rosa.”

“You're welcome.”

He smiles, a yawn following suit that he makes no effort to hide. Rosa feels bad for him, but it looks pretty funny, like his mouth is about to stretch into an abyss before he's done.

“Tired?”

“I’ll be real with you, I have not slept in a while. You want coffee?”

“Dude, it's 8 p.m.”

“Excellent observation, Diaz. Would you mind explaining that to my son?” Something in his expression changes when he says the word son. There’s a pride in his voice as he pronounces it, weighing the syllable like he can’t get enough. “I love him more than anything, but wow, he’s a shit sleeper. You want tea instead?” Jake's already digging in a cabinet. “We have, uhm… Earl Grey, lemon, and something called lactation tea. Maybe you don’t want that.” He sniffs the jar. “Smells pretty good, though. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it?”

“Lemon’s fine. Oh, and I’ve got cookies, too.”

“Who are you?”

“I gotta say, I thought your place would be chaos.” They’ve brought their cups to the couch, where Jake is already on his third cookie and getting crumbs all over the blue flannel. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, my wife is a superhero.” Rosa raises a brow, and he quickly adds, “fine, I’ve done most of this, just so she doesn’t have to stress over it. And my mom was here yesterday. The first thing still stands, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being there with her,” he says, and the gravity in his tone takes her by surprise.

“I did nothing,” she mumbles. “You would have done a much better job. Maybe she would have even listened to you if you’d told her to go to the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that. She can be pretty…”

“Obstinate?”

“I was going to say determined, but sure. Sometimes.” Jake shakes his head. “I say that with love. Anyway, I’m glad it was you. Can you imagine if it had been Charles? She might have killed the man, which would have put such a damper on the whole night, don’t you think? Nah. You were great.”

He meets her eyes again as he says it, and Rosa looks away. She’s rarely one to appreciate flattery, but after the intensity of the situation and the slight guilt she felt afterward over not being the source of calm medical school taught her she should be - some of it’s welcomed.

“Sorry your son had to be delivered by a firefighter.”

“Yeah, that’s tragic, isn’t it?” Jake laughs. “But you helped, too. That’s a pretty cool story to tell Mac about his aunt Rosa one day. I know you hated it, but thank you for staying with her.”

“I wouldn’t have left her.”

“I know.”

Neither of them says anything else in response. She can tell what he means anyway, and knows he can do the same with her. She forgets, sometimes, how long she’s known him; longer than she’s known anyone else at the precinct. She still remembers the goofy student who was restless in a classroom but always sharp as a knife during practical training, the guy she met her first day at the Academy and immediately took a liking to; not just because he seemed like the type who didn’t care about her past or personal life, but also because he was passionate. About Die Hard, taking down bad guys, and about making the people around him feel better, not that he would have confessed the last part.

She still remembers one morning during their second month of the Academy, when she’d arrived at training red-eyed after a bad fight with her boyfriend at the time. Without asking what had happened, Jake spent the entire day pointing out every detail he thought had a chance of making her snicker, and by the end of the day, she’d forgotten about the fight. He’s still the same, she thinks. A few years older, more emotionally mature, and less insistent on dying a heroic death while saving the city from a terrorist attack - but the thoughtfulness and the need to make sure the people he loves are safe and taken care of remains the same.

Rosa hears steps in the hallway, accompanied by what sounds like the shy whining Arlo does when he’s hiding after doing something naughty, and looks up to see Amy. She’s holding Mac against her chest and stroking his back through the baby pink blanket, but he’s still fussing a little. Jake jumps up faster than Rosa knew the man could move, and she watches as the couple exchanges the infant between their arms with so much carefulness. They look practiced, but in a way where they don’t trust it about themselves, where the confidence doesn’t yet match the skill.

“Diaper change?” Jake asks, and Amy nods. “Amazing. Dad duty calls,” he grins, disappearing with Mac to the nursery.

“You make him do all the diaper changes?” Rosa asks as Amy joins her on the couch.

“Almost. I did the hard work, he’s gotta catch up.” She reaches for Jake’s cup, swallowing the last of the lukewarm coffee. “And he offers.”

Amy looks far more exhausted now than when Rosa last saw her in the hospital, the bags under her eyes not even hidden by makeup and her ponytail frizzy. She's wearing sweatpants again and the same flannel and shirt-combo as Jake, only hers is pink and not blue. Rosa wonders if their coordination is intentional or simple habit.

“So… how are you doing?”

It's not a question she asks often, but this time, she cares about the answer.

“I’m so tired,” Amy fires back the second Rosa finishes her sentence, like she's been bursting to complain over it. “Sore. Crying at everything. We’re just trying to figure it out.” She sighs, and then she gets a smile on her lips. “But it’s good. He's objectively the best, most wonderful baby ever.”

“Worth it?”

“Yeah, but that was never a question.”

Jake returns from the diaper change with Mac, who still doesn't quite seem content where he squirms in his father's arms, instantly gaining Amy's attention.

“Clean baby, still not happy,” Jake reports. “Maybe he didn't finish eating?”

“Could be,” Amy says, stretching out her arms to take him. “I’ll see if he's still hungry. You can go take a shower if you want. I’ve got Rosa.”

“Do I need to shower?”

“Yes, babe, you do.”

Jake grimaces, but he's off to the bathroom as soon as Amy returns her focus to the baby in her arms. Mac’s turning his whole body against her chest like it couldn't be clearer what he's after, and Amy sighs as she starts unbuttoning the flannel.

“You don't mind, right?”

“Why would I mind? You're feeding your baby,” Rosa shrugs. “I’ve seen a lot worse, if you remember. I think I can handle accidentally catching a glimpse of your boob.”

Amy blushes. “Guess you’ve got a point.”

It takes them a minute, Amy talking to her son in a low, soothing voice as he keeps tensing and fussing before he catches on. Rosa looks away, wanting to give them some privacy, but she can hear the moment Mac starts suckling and the sigh of relief that follows from Amy.

“There you go,” she says. “We just need to relax, and we’re good.”

There’s a tenderness even to the way she speaks to him, like love is packed into each word. Rosa thinks of the way Amy hid her pregnancy for months in fear that something would go wrong, and how scared she was that giving birth under less than ideal circumstances would somehow make her a bad mom. She doesn’t seem as scared anymore. Rather, there’s an air of quiet confidence over her when she’s holding him, and it’s moving to see.

“Slow down, McClane,” she whispers, thumb stroking over his cheek. “I know you’re hungry, but if you keep going like that, you’re going to puke, okay? We’ve been through this.”

“I’m proud of you,” the words spill out of Rosa, and Amy blinks.

“You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah, I’m proud of you.” A shy smile flutters across Amy’s lips. “But if you ever have another kid, I’m not going near you a month before you’re due, okay? I’ll transfer precincts or something. Never again.”

Amy laughs, but Rosa just stares at her, and she goes silent. “Got it. Cool. That’s fair.”

“Do you want to hold him?” The question takes Rosa by surprise. Mac has finished eating and burped Amy in the face - babies are charming - and seems content again with his head on Amy’s shoulder. “He’s clean and wearing clothes.”

“Uhm, yeah.” Rosa tries to remember when she last held a baby. It was probably Iggy, but Gina’s daughter is three years old now, and she hasn’t wanted to cuddle with Rosa for at least two. “Okay.”

Her heart is beating fast as she holds out her arms and Amy gently transfers him to them, but then he’s there, and it’s not as scary. Mac looks up at her with his big, brown eyes, like he's trying to figure out who this new person is that's holding him, but he doesn't seem too bothered by the change.

“Hi,” says Rosa, tracing one of the rainbows on his onesie. “We’ve met before.”

The fact that she saw this baby be born is something she most of all wants to forget. She won't for a second pretend he looked cute then, all purple and slimy and half-Cuban Jimmy Neutron-like, but now she can actually distinguish some of his features. Dark hair that won’t quite lie flat, a pointy little nose, the sweetest round cheeks, and a curious expression when she meets his eyes with equal focus. There’s some resemblance to both of his parents, something she imagines Charles has probably talked their ears off about already, but he looks like himself, too.

Mac opens his mouth like he’s trying to communicate, and Rosa makes the same face back at him. He closes it, pursing his lips, and she mimics him again. He’s pretty cool, she decides, as long as she doesn’t think about how fragile he is or how soft his head is. He’s this unscarred and innocent, brand new little person with his whole life ahead of him to be filled with successes and mistakes, heartbreaks and dreams, and now that he’s not seconds-out of a womb anymore, Rosa can’t deny that he’s adorable.

“He’s perfect, right?” Amy’s voice is just above a whisper.

“He’s so cute, it’s fucked up.”

Amy laughs. “It is fucked up,” she nods, and then she gets a far more serious look in her eyes. “Thanks again for being there. I know you hated it, but... I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Rosa finds herself lying, but Amy shakes her head.

“No, it was. I’m happy it was you.”

She thinks of Jake’s comment earlier, that Amy might have killed Charles if he’d been the one to try and coach her through contractions, and smirks. “It was worth it.”

Amy smiles. “Auntie Ro-Ro.”

“I get to say that. You don’t get to say that. It’s different.”

“Fine. Can I take a picture of you two? Just to have for him? I won’t ever show it to anyone else, I promise.”

“Sure.” Mac’s started moving a little in her arms again, scrunching his face and looking worried, but he’s not crying, so Rosa raises him slightly anyway and angles him so Amy can get a better picture.

“Adorable,” she says, about to snap the first shot, and right then Mac squirms and spits up. Right over Rosa’s leather jacket. Then he smiles, like everything just became so much better.

“Oh no!” Amy peeps, reaching for a washcloth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’ll take him off your hands if you want -”

“It’s fine,” she hurries to say. “It wipes off.”

“Are you -”

“I said it’s fine.” Rosa gives her a look, as if to say don’t you dare take this baby from me.

Amy looks nervous, but she takes a couple of pictures anyway. Rosa thinks that they’re probably from her bad side, but she doesn’t care to protest. It’s for Mac, anyway, and maybe a little bit for Amy and Jake. She can look ugly in a couple of iPhone pictures if it means she gets to hold this perfect baby for a few minutes more.

“So cute.” Amy sounds teary as she looks at the pictures before putting her phone away, and then it's as if she's been reading Rosa’s mind, because she asks,

“Are you okay to hold him for five minutes? Just while I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

Rosa has got this, at first. Mac has gripped her index finger and is holding on tight to it while she tickles his chin, boops his nose, and even sticks out her tongue to entertain him. He seems happy, watching her with the same wide eyes and intense eye contact, but then, something suddenly comes over him. He scrunches his forehead, making a face like a sad kitten, and the next second he’s crying.

It takes Rosa by surprise. She's got no idea what to do with a crying baby - she's always just given them back to the parents - but Jake’s nowhere to be seen and breaking into the bathroom to place a screaming baby in Amy’s arms seems rude, although she definitely considers it. Rosa stands up instead, swaying from side to side while bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“Shh, shh,” she tries, to no effect. “It's okay.”

Mac lets out another wail like something is making him well and truly heartbroken, and the sound tugs at her heartstrings.

“Where are your parents?” She asks him then, like he's not wondering the same thing. “I’m sorry, Mac, I don’t know what to do -”

An idea hits her. Babies like music, right? She could sing to him. Babies probably don’t like aggressive German rap, but that’s fine, Rosa knows other songs, somewhere down deep -

“The itsy bitsy spider, went up the water spout,” she sings the first song that pops into her head. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out…”

She's not prepared for it to work, but then, as suddenly as the screaming started, Mac calms down again. He lets out the sweetest snuffling noise, and then he goes quiet.

“Out came the sun, and washed up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again…”

Rosa doesn't dare stop. She keeps rocking and singing, rocking and singing, all the while staring at this baby who has such a grip on her somehow. When did a baby last make her sing? He's still staring at her with wide eyes, and she doesn’t want him to start crying again, so she sings the song from the top.

“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout..”

When she finishes the song for the second time, Mac’s closed his eyes and is slowly waving a tiny fist, so she holds it in her hand and lets his grip close around her thumb.

“If you ever get an enemy in the future,” she whispers, “you text me, okay? I’ll beat them up for you.”

“Aww.” Rosa flinches, noticing Jake a few feet away. “You guys are adorable. How are things going?”

“He started crying, so I, uh, sang to him? He's fine now. I think.”

“Yeah, I heard the singing.” Jake steps closer to her so she can slide Mac over to his arms. “Truly beautiful.”

“Never tell anyone about this.”

He winks. “Our secret.”

Mac lets out another whimper, and Rosa tenses, but Jake just lifts him so he's resting against his chest, like a little frog with his head resting on Jake’s shoulder. Then he pops the pacifier he was holding into Mac’s mouth, and as if through a stroke of magic, the baby relaxes. Jake buries his nose in Mac’s hair and kisses the top of his head, and Rosa can't hide a smile.

He looks so grown up like this, so in love as he holds his son. She’s proud of him.

Amy returns from the bathroom with a stressed-out look in her eyes, but once she sees Mac with Jake, it melts right off her. She stands on the tip of her toes, kissing Mac’s cheeks first and then Jake’s.

Rosa feels like she’s lurking, spying on this intimate family moment, but then she remembers she literally saw this kid be born. This family has nestled its way into her life from the very beginning. She’s earned the right to be here.

She still excuses herself after a moment, but she doesn’t leave before she’s stolen a final dose of baby snuggles. How this baby has got her so wrapped around his tiny little finger already is a mystery, but at the same time, it makes all the sense in the world.

“Be nice to your parents,” she whispers to Mac as he gets a final turn in her arms. “They’re a little crazy, I know, but they really love you a lot. So do I,” she adds, under her breath, “but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Mac blinks, like he understands.

#OKAY FOLKS I FINALLY DID IT #my writing #b99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #amy santiago #rosa diaz #mac peralta #b99

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gaemkyuu · 4 years ago

Text

Of Kings & Queens (Part 6)

Warnings: none! A/N: Coronation day! I’m really thinking of adding one last chapter with a baby or pregnancy, but I’m not sure if I should just leave it as is... let me know your thoughts! AU!Prince Charlie Gillespie x Fictional Character Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

In the urgency to have Charlie become King and Olivia become queen, the Northern Kingdom and the Western Kingdom decided that it would be for the best if the coronation day for Prince Charlie was combined with their wedding. It was also decided early on that Olivia and Charlie would have little to no say in what went into their special day. The only saving grace they had was Savannah who knew her best friend enough to object to certain décor or wedding dress designs, but the poor girl was swamped with wedding planning and tasks around the palace. After all, the Royal families had decided that the wedding should happen within a month’s time. The two of them felt more and more anxious as the days drew nearer.

Charlie was becoming increasingly overwhelmed with the constant stream of information being thrown at him about the Western Kingdom. He knew that trade and commerce with resources would be different, but he didn’t anticipate learning about the history of the Kingdom and the inner workings of its economy. Charlie figured he could learn about the Kingdom as he got his hands involved, like learning on the go. He didn’t expect the increased amount of meetings and gatherings of the Royal Council, which took away from his time sneaking around with Olivia.

Olivia on the other hand became increasingly frustrated with the extra court classes that her mother felt obliged to teach her. Every day she spent 6 hours with her mother being lectured about the duties of a Queen and what makes a good Queen. She also had to sit into more events with Ladies of the court and was constantly scrutinized on how she looked, behaved and presented herself. It was exhausting and Olivia felt increasingly annoyed with how she wasn’t allowed to be herself. It didn’t help that the only times she saw Charlie was when she passed him in the hall. He would exchange an apologetic smile and wave, which she would reciprocate, but the both of them knew how much this whole ordeal was getting to them.

The night before their wedding should’ve been filled with excitement and anticipation before the celebration. She had dismissed Savannah for the evening, much to her best friend’s reluctance. Savannah knew something was going on and she was growing increasingly concerned that Olivia was clamming up more than usual. However, Olivia knew Savannah was under a lot of stress preparing for the wedding and felt guilty about venting to her friend. Instead, she thought it would be beneficial for Savannah to get an early night and a little time to relax to herself. The only reason Savannah agreed was that Charlie caught her in the hall earlier and asked that she sneak him a small picnic basket of treats that they could enjoy together that evening. She didn’t ask any questions, but she also knew that Olivia would appreciate the gesture, and so she left a small picnic basket tucked away on her balcony.

However, Olivia sat quietly in her room crying on her bed, confused, lost and overwhelmed. The extra time spent with her mother made her question herself and made her feel insecure about herself. She started to feel unprepared every time her mother corrected her and started to question her worthiness as Queen. She hated the fact that her mother spent 6 hours every day for the past month grooming her to be a pretty wife that stood silently and poised beside her King, encouraging and agreeing to his every word. Her mother often reminded her that she needed to know her place and although she admired her strong willed nature, it was something that she needed to control as Queens are strong but also submissive.

“Liv? What’s wrong?” she jumped at the voice and snapped her head in the direction of the voice. There stood a tired looking Charlie with a picnic basket with a concerned look on his face. He moved over to sit beside her on the bed, placing the basket of treats on the nightstand, quickly wrapping his arms around her. Olivia melted into the hug and the small stream of tears became a steady river, flowing down her face. She sniffled and bit her lips as she didn’t want anyone to hear her breaking down. Charlie rubbed soft circles on her back with one hand and held her head to his shoulder with the other. “It’s okay Liv, take a deep breath and just let it out”

“I’m sorry Charlie” she sobbed quietly into his shoulder, hugging him tighter. She loved Charlie with her whole heart, and there was no denying that. However, the lack of control she had on her life was frightening and intrusive. She felt the suffocating feeling that night in the garden slowly creep up on her, but having Charlie there helped keep her at bay. “I love you”

“I love you too Olivia. You’re okay... It’s all going to be okay...” Olivia continued to cry into her love’s shoulder and eventually she found herself calming down, but the sadness remained. She pulled away from Charlie and moved to her vanity to grab a handkerchief to wipe away the smudges of make up on her face. She gripped onto the edges of the vanity and took a deep breath, straightening her spine. She was trying to compose herself and convince herself that everything was fine and that she was overreacting, but as Charlie wrapped his arms around her from behind, she melted into his touch. He turned her around and hugged her once more and Olivia was grateful for it. She didn’t realize how badly she needed a physical connection with Charlie. To her surprise, he picked her up bridal style, but she fought him to be put down. “Would you please let me practice for tomorrow?”

She gave him a small laugh and complied with his request. It amazed her that despite everything going on Charlie was still able to make her laugh or smile. Carrying her over to the bed, he laid her down gently and joined her on the other side of the bed. Instinctively, she cuddled into him, lying her head on his chest, something that Charlie greatly appreciated. The two lay there in silence as Olivia drew soft absentminded shapes on his chest and Charlie played with her hair.

“What’s in the basket?” she felt Charlie’s chest shake slightly as he chuckled and moved to sit up against her head board and pillow. She followed his actions and sat up as well as Charlie placed the basket in between them. He motioned for her to open in it, and she curiously did, smiling at what she saw inside. “You brought these for me?”

“Well, I haven’t been able to spend much time with you and we’ve both been under a lot of stress. So I had Savannah pull some strings and put this together for us to eat out feelings out tonight” he smiled and pulled out a strawberry pastry, taking a bite and rolling his eyes at how delicious it was.

“I guess I can have one. I have to watch my figure so I don’t look fat in my wedding dress tomorrow” Olivia thought she meant it in a joking manner, but it came out a little bitter to which Charlie frowned at her in concern and put his treat down.

“Liv, what’s going on? You’ve never been ashamed at your appetite or conscious about your body” she sighed as she pulled out a pastry and quietly chewed on it, contemplating how much she wanted to tell him. “Olivia Grace, don’t try to hide a single thing because you know I can tell when you’re hiding something”

“I don’t know... I’m just feeling so lost and confused. Spending all that extra time in court classes with my mom has been getting to me... I feel like I’m losing who I am in the midst of being this perfect Queen that the nation needs, while also realizing this is not the way I want to help the nation. I don’t doubt you as a King, but I feel like I’m having to choose between you or something that I’ve been working my whole life for?” Charlie sat patiently letting Olivia express herself, knowing that she rarely got the occasion to. “You’re going to make an amazing king, I don’t doubt that... but how do you just let everything that you’ve been working towards go? Especially when you’re being asked to forget about something you’re passionate about?”

“You know I won’t dismiss you, right? Your word is equally weighted in my eyes” Olivia sighed deeply and Charlie knew there was very little that he could contribute to the situation.

“I know that, but I don’t get to be in the room to make crucial decisions with you... you’ll make them on your own and you’ll do the best that you can. But the problem is there are people who could offer better insight to the situation” a brief moment of hurt crossed Charlie’s features and she immediately regretted voicing that out loud. Day in and out, Charlie was proving to be an amazing King, with wisdom beyond his years. This was another thing that Olivia admired. Despite the chaos and fun loving side of Charlie, there was a man who was ready to lead a nation in a moment’s notice, regardless of how he felt.

“Is this what it’s about? The recognition?” her eyes widened and realized that she had to clarify what she meant before things were misconstrued.

“No! I couldn’t care less if they only wrote your name in history as King!” Charlie still looked apprehensive and unsure. “I just don’t want history to mention me as they’ve mentioned the Queens before us. In everything that I read, they are portrayed only for their beauty as an accessory to the King, but never for what they’ve done. We are going to have kids one day and I want my daughter to believe that she could do so much more than being pretty and submissive. I want our kids to believe that anything is possible if they work hard for it” he perked up at the last part of her explanation.

“You want to have kids?” she scoffed at his response, knowing she should’ve expected that part to be his biggest take away.

“Yes, but not the point Charlie. I thought that Kings and Queens made things possible for the Kingdom, when in reality we follow tradition that no longer makes sense to our society!” Charlie held her hand as she sighed, frustrated.

“Things are a little backwards aren’t they?” Olivia nodded and the two of them sat there in silence. The reality of their situation sank in deeper and the discontentment Olivia felt grew stronger. She looked to her husband to be for assurance, but noticed just how deep the bags under his eyes had been and how sullen he looked.

“I’m sorry... I’m being completely insensitive to how this is affecting you... have you been alright?” Charlie cleared his throat and straightened up, thinking carefully about what he wanted to talk about.

“I’ve been in meetings all day trying to decide what my first decree as king would be”

“And?”

“I have no idea... Pat said to pick something that would profit the economy between the Kingdoms, but the King said that we need to start exploring foreign trade. Meanwhile, the Viziers have been voicing out the concerns of the people, all the while I’m trying to take your advice of picking something simple because I’m going to stick with it for a while and... it’s just... it’s a mess” Olivia moved closer to Charlie as he stuttered through his frustrations. She moved his head to rest on her shoulder and played with his hair.

“You’re going to make an amazing King. I know that may not mean much right now, but there is no one else who I’d rather take my place other than you” Charlie smiled up at her and kissed the shoulder he leaned on. Regardless of what his decree would be, all of the other three Kingdoms would have to accept it the day of the Coronation when it is announced. Rarely ever was a decree never agreed upon, as it was the duty of the next King to let the other Kings know in advance as to what he would be deciding.

“I just wished the roles were reversed, y’know? I wouldn’t mind standing there and looking pretty!” he smiled as a genuine laugh came from Olivia as it sounded like a beautiful melody to his ears. It had been rare to hear such laughter come from her as of late and he made the mental note to make sure she laughed more often with him. “Listen, I know this isn’t panning out the way we wanted it to, but I hope you understand how much I love you Liv. I really mean it”

“I know. I love you more” she kissed the top of his head before he moved to sit beside her and yawn. “I really appreciate this cute little picnic you set up for us” he opened his mouth to respond, but another yawn made its way out. “But seeing as tomorrow is a big day and we are both exhausted, what say you we put these pastries away and settle into bed?”

“Feeling frisky are we?” Charlie smirked at the flushed Princess before him as she realized how her proposition could’ve been taken. “Relax, I got what you meant, I’m just teasing you. I just didn’t think you’d blush that deeply at the mention of sex” his eyes grew the size of saucers as her face deepened its shade, cluing in to her embarrassment. “You haven’t had sex before, have you?”

Olivia stuttered to get out her response, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the sudden announcement of her virginity in the conversation. It wasn’t customary for Princesses to spend time with any male unless it was an authoritative person, family or a potential suitor. Even then, there would always be a chaperone, which was usually Savannah. Olivia knew about sex, but a conversation such as this had never come up in the time that they had been together. She didn’t realize that she was still stuttering to explain herself until Charlie silenced her with a kiss.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about Liv” he winked, pecking her lips once more. “Does that mean I get to be your first everything?” She nodded and hid her face in his neck, still embarrassed at the situation. Charlie took this as a cue to lie down in her bed, reaching for the sheets as he slid them down. The couple laid in silence for the majority of the evening, Olivia drawing patterns on his chest after he unbuttoned it and Charlie playing with her hair while rubbing soft circles on her back. Eventually, Olivia fell asleep on his chest and he stealthily tried to get away without waking her up, but stopped when she grabbed his wrist. “Liv if they find us together in the morning, you know we won’t hear the end of it”

“Please... I just...” Charlie couldn’t say no to her, mostly because he knew the feeling. It was that same feeling he felt every late night that he stayed up to study more about the Western Kingdom and he was lost, overwhelmed and tired, wishing Olivia could just hold him to ease the emotions he was feeling.

“Fine... move over” she smiled appreciatively and moved over more on the bed, turning to face the other side so that Charlie could cuddle her from behind. “Just don’t complain if you wake up and I have all the covers” Olivia laughed and playfully hit him with a pillow. Charlie pulled her closer and snuggled his face into her neck, which caused her to giggle a bit. Olivia felt herself drifting as Charlie gave her neck soft kissed and hummed a melody that lulled her to sleep.

“Everything is going to be okay Liv. I promise”

***

The rest they received that night was much needed and both would say it was the best sleep they’ve had in a long time! However, the next morning Savannah entered to wake Olivia up only to shriek in surprise as Charlie was in bed. Immediately, the two jumped out of bed and Savannah rushed to the door. Hearing Savannah’s shriek sent guards her way and she explained that she had walked in on the Princess changing and waved them off. As Savannah entered the room, she chastised the both of them that they were lucky she had come alone this morning. After giving them a moment to say goodbye, Charlie exited through the balcony and Savannah began by shoving Olivia to the nearest bath to get her washed up.

Olivia didn’t have a moment to think about how she was feeling as it was one thing after another. Savannah ran a tight ship today and there was no chance that Olivia could ask for a break until Savannah got through her entire todo list. She winced as Savannah pulled her hair back and fastened it in the bun at the top of her head. People were constantly in and out of her bedroom asking Savannah questions about the wedding and coronation. Olivia was given bread, cheese and fruit to snack on before the Coronation and wedding, which she was thankful for, but she didn’t enjoy too much with the chaos going on before her.

Savannah finished up her hair and make up, then proceeded to get her into her wedding dress. This would be the first time anyone saw the dress, including Olivia. She trusted her best friend with her life, but she felt a little nervous. Upon seeing the dress, she instantly regretted any doubt she had for Savannah because the dress was perfect. Her dress was anything but the disastrous ball gown pastry dress her mother had recommended.

“Shall we?” her best friend smiled and Olivia nodded, feeling excitement.

Olivia’s wedding dress was a column dress that was off the shoulder adorned with iridescent pearl lace and a court train that began at her sleeves, mimicking the image of a cape. It was off-white and form fitting, something that no Princess or Queen in history had ever worn on their Coronation or Wedding day. Savannah zipped up her dress and helped Olivia into her custom made off-white silk high heels with gold vinery climbing up the back. She stood tall and felt beautiful as she stared at her appearance in the mirror. Savannah came from behind and hugged her best friend, chin resting on her shoulder and staring back at her reflection.

“You are going to be an amazing Queen Olivia. Forget anything your mother taught you and just be you. The people already love you, so why change?” a happy tear slid down Olivia’s face in appreciation at the kind words from her best friend. “Stop! If you cry, I’ll cry! I also just did your make up!” the girls shared a laugh and Savannah asked another servant to grab the King to help with the veil.

As her father walked into her room, his eyes instantly filled with tears and he was grateful that Savannah was there to help him place her tiara and cathedral weil on her. No words were exchanged between the two of them, just smiles and silent conversations with their eyes. With a last look at the mirror, Olivia took her father’s arm in hers and they walked to the Throne room where all the guests awaited. The walk to the throne room felt long and Olivia wishes it went by faster because then she wouldn’t have had a moment to think about what she was feeling. The closer they drew, the more confused Olivia became. She was excited to marry Charlie, but she wasn’t extremely thrilled to give up everything she worked for. She was thrilled that the Kingdom would have Charlie to lead them, but she wasn’t excited at the idea of being a trophy wife from here on out.

Her father cleared his throat and Olivia realized they were at the doors to the throne room. At his signal, her life would never be the same, and a wave of nausea washed over her, her hands trembling suddenly. She took a deep breath and swallowed, in fear she might vomit, but her father let go of her arm and turned to face her, holding both of her hands in his.

“I haven’t had a moment with you like this since you were a child.” tears welled up in her father’s eyes. “Now here you are, a beautiful young woman becoming a wife and a Queen” he sniffled as a tear escaped and he wiped it with the back of his hand, never letting hers go. “Olivia, I’ve known since you were a baby that you would someday become one of the greatest Queens this Kingdom has ever known. I still believe that my dear.”

Olivia started to feel a little emotional as her father lowered his defenses around her. “I know that you have dreamed your whole life to one day relieve me of my duties. I’ve learned a lot about myself as a King and father watching you grow up and listening to your observations about this Kingdom. In time my dear, you will change this Kingdom for the better” Olivia let a tear slide down her face at her father’s words but it was quickly wiped away by him.

“I will always be your little Princess” she smiled and the King sniffled. The servant apologetically interrupted their moment preparing for them to open the door as the muffled sounds of the orchestra penetrated the thick doors. With a kiss on the cheek, a nod from the King, they linked arms again and prepared to walk down the aisle together.

Olivia will forever remember that moment when the doors opened and she saw Charlie at the throne. Watching his face go from shock, to amazement, to excitement, to happiness was such a joy to watch. She could only see him and he could only see her. Regardless of what the future held, Olivia had one certainty. She would never regret the decisions she made that led her to Charlie. As she walked with her father to join Charlie at the throne, the smile on his face was the biggest she had ever seen on him, and as the music slowly came to an end as they arrived in front of him, the smile remained.

“How you doin’?” he whispered, winking at her. They heard King Patrick clear his throat but couldn’t care less.

“To you Prince Charles, I pass my daughter, Princess Olivia Grace, to you. May you fill her life with peace, joy, happiness and prosperity” the King placed Olivia’s hand in Charlie’s, hesitating a moment to pull away. “Take care of my Princess” he whispered looking Charlie sincerely in the eyes.

“I promise” he whispered back and the King let go, joining his wife to the side.

The Royal Wedding proceeded exactly the way it should have. The religious passages and oaths were sworn, along with the traditions of the Western and Northern Kingdom, and soon the two were pronounced husband and wife, in which they turned around to face their guests for the first time. Olivia noticed King Jeremy and Queen Carolynn smiling in the front row on the right side, their parents seated behind them, while on the left side Prince Owen and Prince Hayden sat next to the King and Queen of the Southern Kingdom. To her immediate right sat the Royal Family of the Northern Kingdom and her own mother and father to her immediate right. All of the important families, gathered in one location for this momentous occasion.

The trumpets sounded signifying the time for the Coronation and the newlyweds knelt before the King and Queen as they assumed their positions. The happiness of their matrimony started to fade as the Queen began to speak to the people informing them of what makes a good Queen. As the Queen spoke, the words settled in Olivia’s mind and she felt herself slowly becoming less happy, something in which Charlie noticed out of the corner of his eyes. He squeezed her hand tightly in reassurance, but it didn’t seem to help.

“I present to you, Queen Olivia Grace Gillespie” her mother announced as she replaced her tiara with a crown and the crowd erupted in applause. Olivia stood and curtsied to the Queen, then curtsying to the crowd. Owen clapped particularly loud and looked quite smug, something that Olivia caught. She watched him exchange a look with King Jeremy who smiled back at him, equally smug. Charlie’s whisper of her name snapped her out of her thoughts and she knelt back down beside him. The King immediately started his speech about passing the crown to Charlie and the responsibilities he would assume in his stead. Olivia saw him grow increasingly anxious as the King spoke, and she tried to comfort him the way he comforted her, especially when he started becoming fidgety.

“I present to you, King Charles Jeffrey Gillespie, the new King of the Western Kingdom” Olivia watched as Charlie was crowned and stood before her Kingdom who applauded him. He bowed to the King, who whispered something in his ear and all tension and anxiety left Charlie in an instant. The former Queen and new Queen looked at the two in confusion as Charlie turned around to bow at the distinguished guests, and then motioned to Olivia to stand with him for the final announcement. “Presenting the King and Queen of the Western Kingdom!” Everyone stood in applause and the people outside the castle could also be heard as someone announced the end to the official Coronation. After a few moments of applause, Charlie silenced the room with a motion of his hand and everyone took their seats.

“As your new King and a foreigner to this Kingdom, I have thought greatly upon what my first decree as your King would be. I have received a number of suggestions and requests from several honored and distinguished members of your Kingdom. Ultimately, I have decided on one.” Charlie paused, clearing his throat, leaving the crowd waiting in anticipation. “In the time that I have got to understand your Kingdom, I have noticed that the Kings of your past have brought prosperity to the Kingdom. In speaking with your people, I have learned that your Queens have done a great deal as well, but have only been known as the support to the King. We currently live in a time in which traditions in our past no longer support the needs of our future” Olivia looked at him in confusion, realizing that he was quoting her words from last night.

“In order to move forward as a Kingdom, with the interest of prosperity for the people and the nation, I believe that there are some changes we as a nation need to resolve.” Olivia followed Charlie’s gaze to Jeremy and Carolynn who smiled and nodded in agreeance, then to Owen who shared a look with his father, then to the Southern King who nodded in affirmation as well.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” she whispered curtly, looking at her husband. He smiled back at her and took a deep breath.

“My first decree as King of the Western Kingdom is to urge the Nation to agree that Queens shall join the Royal Council and their word should hold equal value to that of their King”

Olivia's eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets as she listened to Charlie’s first decree as King. Gasps filled the room and so did quiet whispers of chatter amongst the guests. Never had there ever been a decree that challenged their Nations traditions before! A tense and uncomfortable moment hung in the air as Charlie awaited to hear the responses from the other Kingdoms.

Jeremy and Carolynn were the first to stand and speak. “As King and Queen of the Eastern Kingdom, we accept your decree.” They bowed and applauded the new King.

The King and Queen of the Southern Kingdom were next to speak. “As King and Queen of the Southern Kingdom, we accept your decree” the applause increased. Charlie looked to his brother and family, who were shocked at the words that left his mouth. Olivia must have thought that Charlie had already chosen his decree and voiced it out to both families, which meant that this came as a total shock. She looked at her father who smiled proudly, but her mother seemed equally off guard. The look of confidence on Charlie’s face faltered as no one stood immediately from his family. His brother stood slowly with his wife and cleared his throat. If King Patrick didn’t accept the decree, then Charlie would have to think of a new one, something Olivia hoped deep down would not happen.

“As King and Queen of the Northern Kingdom, we accept your decree” the applause was deafening and the people celebrated the new decree. Granted there were people in the crowd, like the Viziers who were tremendously confused and her mother who was speechless, but there were also people like Savannah and her father who enthusiastically applauded the choice to break tradition for the better. As the roar of the orchestra commenced, Charlie took Olivia’s hand and walked down the aisle, Savannah following and fixing her train as they walked out of the throne room and to the parlor to get ready for the next part of the occasion. Thankfully, they got to the parlor quickly without anyone stopping them and as soon as the door shut, they kissed each other deeply.

“Did that actually happen?” Olivia breathed as they broke the kiss. Still, Charlie held her close, his forehead resting on hers.

“You and all the Queens that come after you will now be a part of the Royal Council. I told you, everything is going to be okay” happy tears filled her eyes as Charlie held her, smiling. She was preparing herself to never have a say for the rest of her life, but now she got to start fresh with a husband and King that not only loved her, but one that appreciated and valued her.

THE END

A/N: Thoughts?! If I were to add one last chapter to this series, what would you want to see?

tag list: @ifilwtmfc @warmness0ul @starjane312

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #imagine #fanfiction #jeremy shada #owen joyner

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