#there has not been a single wedding in my life this song has not been played even the non afrocarribeans too

[softspiderling]

est-ce que je t’aime? | j.v

summary:

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to King’s Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didn’t expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Storm’s End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!

word count: 8,2k

author’s note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on reader’s and jace’s relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading 🫶🏼

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“I have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.

“Thank you Ser.”

Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jace’s letter.

This was how you and Daeron received news from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at King’s Landing together, but you knew that things hadn’t been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.

You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaena’s lady in waiting.

Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jace’s voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.

He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.

“Helaena and Aegon were married,” Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jace’s letter.

You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeron’s arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.

“To whom?”

“To each other.”

“What?”

“Look,” Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.

“Helaena must be devastated,” you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldn’t imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.

“I cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,” Daeron said with a frown. “Am I even still her son?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chastised him. “Your mother sent you away for your own good.”

Even as you said those words, you didn’t quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?

With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jace’s letter you had left on the table.

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

“So you have thought about marrying my nephew?”

You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.

“Go sit and write to your mother,” you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.

It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jace’s letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.

It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.

“Urgent news from King’s Landing!” the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.

“Your father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in King’s Landing.” Lord Ormund’s eyes found you. “Both of you.”

It didn’t take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldn’t believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldn’t imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?

Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You weren’t sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jace’s letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You weren’t quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserys’ funeral or the latest at Aegon’s coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeron’s chamber to distract yourself.

The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.

“I’m sorry about your father’s passing,” you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I have been living without a father for quite some time,” he replied wryly, glancing at you. “I suppose it will not feel any different.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. “I know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.”

Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.

“Are you nervous to see your kin again?”

The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.

“Kin? I haven’t seen them in nearly ten years,” he scoffed, starting to pace. “Mother writes to me once in a moon, Helaena’s letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.”

“They are still your kin, Daeron.”

“By blood, yes.”

“Is there any other way to be kin?”

You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.

“Yes. You.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.

“You came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this… Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “You are my sister in everything but blood.”

“Oh Daeron,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.

“Swear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to King’s Landing,” Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an arm’s length, his eyes searching yours.

“I swear it,” you told him, a smile on your face. “Swear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.”

Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.

A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. “Everything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.”

“Very well, we will be right out,” Daeron answered with a nod.

The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeron’s hand, standing.

“I will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.”

Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I will meet you outside the city walls.”

You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to King’s Landing on dragonback.

You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the King’s funeral rite and Aegon’s coronation.

Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.

“Will you miss Oldtown?” You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.

“Nothing keeping me here,” he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.

“Are you sure this is King’s Landing?”

The journey to King’s Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half day’s journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.

Daeron glanced at you before looking around. “Surely mother’s doing.”

The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.

“The Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.”

Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.

“My Lady, if you follow me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.

“To her chambers, my Prince.”

“She will stay with me.”

“Daeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,” you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.

“I shall not meet my mother alone.”

“Daeron-“

“Please,” Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.

The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.

“They just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.

“They have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?”

Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeron’s siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.

“My boy.”

“Mother,” Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.

Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his mother’s arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you weren’t ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh Gods,” you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. “Helaena.”

“I missed you,” the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.

“You look well,” she said. “Very beautiful.”

You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. “So are you, my Princess.”

Helaena smiled brightly at you. “You must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.”

“There is time for that later,” Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaena’s smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.

“Thank you,” she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. “Thank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.”

You wrapped your arms around Alicent. “Of course my Queen.”

She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.

“My Princes,” you said, bowing. “My condolences for your father.”

“Thank you,” Aemond said. “He was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.”

His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.

“Are you excited to be King, my Prince?” you asked, hoping to change the topic.

He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.

“Uh, yes, of course, my Lady,” Aegon said, clearing his throat. “Now that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.”

That made you pause.

“Jace and Luke were here?” You asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,” Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadn’t known that.

“When are they expected to return?”

Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you weren’t aware of.

“They are not,” Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. “Rhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.

“Do you not think all of this odd?” you asked, your voice low. “I know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?”

It was the day after your arrival in King’s Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeron’s room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to King’s Landing.

“Maybe thing’s have changed,” Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. “We have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jace’s letters. You couldn’t believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t rush to King’s Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.

As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasn’t how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.

Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daron’s hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.

With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you weren’t sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.

The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.

You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeron’s hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.

“Sister!”

Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.

“Are you well?” He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.

“I’m fine, Daeron.”

“Daeron.”

You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.

“Do you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as “sister”?!”

You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to King’s Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to King’s Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldn’t Rhaenyra and Daemon return to King’s Landing following the King’s death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didn’t even notice someone approaching you.

“Eavesdropping, are we?”

Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.

“Gods, you scared me,” you said, shaking your head. “No, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didn’t want me to come in.”

Clearly.

Aemond didn’t say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to King’s Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.

“I should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,” he said, his voice slow. “What is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?”

Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?

“Daeron is like a brother to me,” you said, voice indignant. “I care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.”

“So you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?”

The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.

“Of course, he’s the rightful heir, is he not?”

Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.

“What happened?” you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“They accused me of impropriety,” Daeron muttered. “Said that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.”

“We’re not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,” you sighed.

“What is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,” he argued. “How can I call a woman my mother when I haven’t seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?” Daeron hissed, his voice rising.

“I know you’re upset,” you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. “It’s hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.”

“Did they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.

“How is my brother faring?”

You shut the door to Daron’s chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.

“It’s hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasn’t been this… Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.”

Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I was hoping he would accompany me,” he said. “But I do not think he sounds well enough to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Storm’s End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.”

What?

“Forgive me but who else would he be loyal to?”

Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.

“Rhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.”

He paused, eyeing you carefully.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Aemond’s eye swept over you once more and he nodded.

“Yes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,” he insisted. “It will be a short flight on Vhagar.”

“Very well,” you said, a glance on Daron’s closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Storm’s End wouldn’t be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.

You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.

“Come,” Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.

“Soves, Vhagar!”

With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasn’t long before you reached Storm’s End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.

“Just in time,” the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,” Aemond said, fixing his doublet. “I am here to talk to Lord Borros.”

The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.

“Prince Aemond, what can I do for you?”

“Lord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.”

“King Aegon, you say,” Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And what do you offer me for my loyalty?”

You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.

“Your four daughters… They are still unwed?”

A smile spread on Lord Borros’ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.

“Indeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?”

Aemond inclined his head. “Not only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.”

Your eyes widened at Aemond’s words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.

“Excellent, excellent,” Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. “Let us discuss-“

“My Lord!” A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. “Another dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Storm’s End.”

“Ah, that must be my nephew,” Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.

The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” the knight announced. “Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didn’t seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.

Luke’s step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.

“Lord Borros...” Luke started. “I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,” Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. “Which is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.

“What’s your mother’s message?”

Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemond’s mouth tugged up.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?”

Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Luke’s silence.

“Go home, pup,” he sneered. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.”

Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.

“Wait, my Lord Strong.”

You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.

“I will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said. “No. I want you to put out your eye.”

He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.

“As payment for mine. One will serve,” Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Luke’s direction. “I would not blind you.”

Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.

“Plan to make it a gift of it to my mother.”

Luke’s eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. “No.”

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.

“Give me your eye!” Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. “Or I will take it, bastard.”

“Aemond!” you shouted, panic evident in your voice.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. “The boy came as an envoy. I’ll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”

Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.

“Aemond, wait,” you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You’re not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?”

“He cannot get away with it, not again.”

Aemond’s voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.

“This is a thing from the past!” you reminded him. “Did you not gain a dragon from it?”

“You were not present when he took my eye!” Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Storm’s End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.

Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.

“Are you coming, or staying?” Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.

“I am coming.”

You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.

The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.

“Aemond stop!”

Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.

“What is it you’re trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“That boy needs to learn how to fear me,” he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.

Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.

The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagar’s jaws.

“What are you doing?!” Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.

“Saving your life!”

You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Luke’s shoulders.

Vhagar’s shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Luke’s shoulders.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly, no!”

You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.

“We’re vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.”

“Arrax is faster, I just need to get back home. It’s not that far!” Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldn’t even see you.

“That’s what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you don’t trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.”

Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.

“Ilagon, Arrax!” Luke instructed. “Īlon jorrāelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.” Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.

Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.

The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.

“Luke,” you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. “Down there.”

Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.

Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. “Lykiri, Arrax,” he said, leaning his head against his dragon’s. “Īlon jāhor jikagon lenton aderī, syt sir, ziry iksos daor ȳgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.” Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, it’s not safe. Calm down, my boy.

Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.

“Are you well?”

Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.

“No. But I’m unharmed,” he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.

“It is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,” you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.

“I am sorry,” you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.

“Did you know my uncle came to Storm’s End to kill me?” Luke asked, his voice small. “Did you come to make me lower my guards?”

“Forgive me?”

You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.

“I cannot speak of Aemond’s intentions,” you said truthfully. “Only of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revenge…”

Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.

“I’m only here to help you,” you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. “Arrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?”

Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Yes he would.”

“See, you’re in no danger,” you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. “Now take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.”

Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left King’s Landing.

“You have grown into a fine young Prince,” you told him. “I almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borros’ hall.”

Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. “I’m almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.”

You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.

“How is Jace?” you asked, your chest tight. You couldn’t believe how it was mere moon’s turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.

Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.

“Jace is… Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my mother’s claim.”

Your forehead creased.

Usurp?

“Pardon… Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?”

Luke stared at you, mouth agape. “… Yes. He stole my mother’s inheritance.”

You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.

“Now everything is falling into place… Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!” You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. “Daeron. I’ve left Daeron at King’s Landing without telling him that I’ve gone.”

You didn’t want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.

“I’m sure all will be well,” Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.

“You should get some rest,” you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. “It might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.”

Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.

Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.

Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew he’d want to go home as soon as possible.

“Luke, the rain has stopped,” you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.

“It should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.”

Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.

“It is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.”

You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you weren’t sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didn’t need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragon’s neck gently.

You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.

“Come, we need to leave before the weather turns again.”

“Luke, no,” you argued but Luke shook his head.

“You saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,” Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Arrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.”

You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.

“Very well.”

The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.

“Mēre mōrī kipagon gō īlon issi lenton, issa valonquar,” Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. “Soves.” One more flight until we’re home, my boy.

Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.

“Īlon issi bē konīr, Arrax. Sepār mirrī tolī.” We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.

Luke’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.

“Prince Lucerys!”

A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.

“Her Grace has been awaiting your arrival.”

Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. “Take us to my mother.”

The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadn’t seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.

“Prince Lucerys, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.

“Luke!”

“Mother!”

Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldn’t believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.

Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerys’ face with her hands.

“What happened?”

“Aemond and Vhagar were already at Storm’s End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath… When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadn’t intervened…”

Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.

You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.

“You’re Helaena’s lady in waiting,” Rhaenyra said.

“I was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.

“Mother! Luke!”

You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought he’d be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.

“What are you doing here?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ bark like you want it !!

ᝰ.ᐟ in the world of sports, there's only one thing people care more about than getting hot 'n sweaty with the athletes: the girlies who are the ones these men are running home to. alternatively: a headcanon post about the hyper-specific wag!reader the bllk boys would end up with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring yoichi isagi, reo mikage, seishiro nagi, rensuke kunigami, rin itoshi author's notes since wives and girlfriends is wag + the song has been stuck in my head, i thought 'bark like you want it' was a silly, cute name for the post lol. warning that isagi's section mentions having kids!!!!

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — the girl next door !! your dynamic is: the two of you have known each other since childhood, and throughout every stage of his life and career, you've been right by his side. when isagi confesses to you shortly after scoring the winning goal of the u-20 match, he's a blushing, awkward, stuttering mess. despite his newfound fame and notoriety (which will only continue to grow), yoichi isagi is still the same boy you've spent living next door to since your elementary days. when he goes pro and becomes a world famous athlete, surrounded by models and actresses, the only girl to still give him butterflies is you. you love him for him. in every speech he has to give, he's always singing praises about you and your unconditional support and love. the wedding you two have is intimate and fairly private, although isagi can't help but post a picture of the two of you outside the obgyn clinic with the cheesy caption of "my baby is having a baby!!!! 😍😁"

the girlies love you because: you're what people think of when someone describes someone as being down to earth. your social media presence is nonexistent, save for a private instagram with less than 200 followers. you live your life in peace with a man who doesn't stress you out in the slightest — in fact, your relationship with isagi is aspirational to a lot of people. one of the number one athletes in the world and super hot 'n rich, and the only thought that rivals soccer on his one-track mind is you, his wife that he's hopelessly devoted to. you're always seen at every single one of his games, sporting his jersey, and always cheering happily when he scores. once the two of you have kids, you'll be carrying your baby (who's also sporting isagi's jersey🥹) every one of his fans that happens to run into you in public can see why isagi is so in love with you; there are only stories about how kind and sweet you are. it's why you're known as the sweetheart of the soccer wags <3

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — the ceo !! your dynamic is: an arranged marriage... gone right? you belong to a conglomerate family that runs in the same circle as the mikages. you're in the middle of starting up your own beauty brand, and you're trying to make a name for yourself. reo is occupied with his professional soccer career. neither of you want to go through with this marriage interview, but to appease your families, you two agree, not expecting that you two would match each other's freak for real. he's competitive and likes what he can't have; you're little miss independent and equally competitive. he tells you he doesn't mind the engagement, and you get your lawyers to draft a pretty prenup that'll milk him for all he's worth while keeping your assets safe. he buys you a massive engagement ring, and you ask him, "that's the best you can do?" the minute he's in control of mikage corp, he knows he'll gladly let you take the reins.

the girlies love you because: you are the corporate it girl. everyone is obsessed with your paparazzi photos that exude office siren but make it actually work appropriate. there are how-to videos on copying your style. not to mention, you're a businesswoman. every time you attend one of reo's games, you strategically reapply your beauty brand's lipgloss, or tease new products by applying said unreleased products while on camera. someone once asked you in a comment how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? to which you replied @.reomikage how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? just because your man spoils you doesn't mean you put him on a pedestal. princess treatment is the bare minimum for you.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — the twitch streamer !! your dynamic is: so silly. you're the type of girl who looks good even with pimple patches on your face and your oversized glasses that you only wear because it has blue light blocking lenses on them. you're a well known streamer and got your start during the peak of fortnite (you started off being comically bad at the game, but again: you're a pretty girl. you being good would've just exploded every guys' brains), but once you got your bag secured, you started posting the content you preferred (dress to impress on roblox). everyone loves you because you're hilarious on camera, but you don't really keep up with sports, so when nagi joins your stream, everyone is going insane but you have no clue as to who he is. when they start spamming the chat about him, you ask your viewers "is he hot? no, scratch that. is he rich?" you've always been nagi's online crush & you basically made his whole entire month when you asked him to join you on your instagram live one day. the whole entire time, he's looking at you on the screen with literal hearts in his eyes, and he struggles to fight back his smile. it's so difficult for him to maintain a neutral expression, and this is the most any of his fans have ever heard him speak, and the comments can't stop talking about "how geeked bro is rn"

the girlies love you because: just like isagi's wag, you are a genuine sweetheart. you never hard launch nagi, but you do tease confirmation on your relationship. you'll wear one of his hoodies that people know is his, or sometimes you'll stream when nagi is over and people can see his shoulder in the frame or they'll hear him say something to you to make you laugh. you post pictures of your view of the field, usually captioning it with something like "damn. i could be going crazy on sims 4 rn" you're just such a fun person to watch, and people consider you + nagi to be their comfort couple (although most of the comforting energy comes from you and your antics).

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — the pilates instructor !! your dynamic is: fun and flirty, and straight out of a romcom. you're a well-known pilates instructor and in an attempt to get more girls to garner an interest in the sports channel, the network reaches out to you to see if you want to be in a humorous segment where you try to host a pilates class with some of the pro sports team. these guys are all about bulking and lifting and stamina training, and they don't really hold pilates in a high regard, so the comedy could be there. you obviously agree, and you end up teaching kunigami's team first. he can barely concentrate on the class and fumbles a few times because he's too focused on how good you look in your lululemon hot pink set. he's trying so hard to be respectful, and when you talk to him after the class, thanking him for being one of the only guys to not look down on pilates before they had to endure a session, he's trying so hard to avert his gaze because the sight of you slightly sweaty and in your workout clothes is doing something to him. you love teasing him, and the fact that he's a gentleman and still believes in chivalry makes it all the more fun.

the girlies love you because: besides making working out fun, you feature kunigami in some videos and always tease him by making up and demonstrating some freaky positions that always have him turning red in the face. you're always so considerate and supportive of your followers, and in return, they're always supportive of your own endeavors. when you come out with your own workout line, you put your boyfriend's famous name and hot body to use. he's in your marketing campaign, but honestly, the videos of him looking at you when you're wearing your own workout set is advertisement enough.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — the unbothered model !! your dynamic is: centered on the concept of private not secret. neither of you get too personal on social media; you just post aesthetic photos and sponsored content for revolve & rin's socials are managed by a team. like everyone else in the world with decent eyesight, rin's struck by your beauty. unlike most of the guys who are attracted to you, though, rin stands out. for starters, he actually has the confidence to approach you. even better: he's actually polite when he does. normally, the ones bold enough to approach you are bold and loud and kinda sleazy. rin is nothing like that. underneath both yours and his cold exterior, the two of you actually share some of the same niche interests. rin's a pretty intense person on the field and to the public, and there's not a single photo on the internet where you can be seen smiling. the aura the two of you have when paired together is insane... insanely intimidating. he's also the person you're most comfortable with and vice versa. the two of you can be messy and unfiltered and annoying with each other, and no one else.

the girlies love you because: you serve effortless cool girl. at every game you attend to watch rin, not once do the cameras catch you off guard. side profile? stunning. catching your usual neutral expression morph into concern and shock as rin gets shoved by an opponent? you still look insanely good. your hair is always done, nails are always done, your outfits are always fitted and put the other wags to shame. when girls think of iconic partners of athletes, you're always the first on their mind. there are tiktok tutorials that are trying to teach people how to emulate your energy, "[name] outfit inspo", or makeup videos trying to recreate your look. photos of you at rin's game is on every girl's "wag dream life" pinterest board, but the most popular photo is a grainy image someone managed to capture. it's taken after rin's game, and the two of you snuck off to the back of the stadium to be alone. he has his arms wrapped around your waist, and your arms are around his shoulders, and his forehead is pressed against yours and... it's the only photo where people have seen either of you smiling.

[withleeknow]

my moon and stars.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, (tooth-rotting) fluff; even tho it's unedited this is still one of my favorite things that i've written on this blog so far !!! gaaaaaaah word count: 1.1k listen to 🎧: lover - taylor swift

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

nobody thought jeongin would be the next one to get married, but alas, here you are, at the reception of your friend's wedding, nursing a glass of champagne.

"come on," minho says, snatching the glass away from you and finishing the rest of it in one gulp, before he takes you by the hand and tugs you forward. "let’s go dance."

you can't even be annoyed that he basically just stole your drink. instead, you just laugh, and let the love of your life drag you to the dance floor.

he guides you to move in a slow rhythm, matching the tempo of the song that's playing in the background. it's a song that you would usually think is overrated and has been played to hell and back, but in the moment, drunk on the cozy atmosphere, you think it's nice. you briefly wonder what song you would choose for your first dance at your own wedding.

it's just a fleeting thought. you've been having those all day.

jeongin's wedding was beautiful. everything was done to perfection, and you have no doubt that most of it was overseen by his girlfriend.

nope, correction: she's his wife now.

nevertheless, you've been imagining yourself and minho in a similar setting. you in a stunning white dress. him, dashing in a classy suit. the two of you exchanging vows with teary eyes in front of your friends and families. the cats as ring bearers. sealing forever with a deep kiss and fond smiles.

as you continue to sway along to the music, you wrap your arms around minho's neck and pull him closer. there's something in the way that he's been treating you all day that makes you melt even more than it usually does. he's been more touchy; there's not a single moment where his hands aren't on your body in any way, whether it be a hand on your knee, on the small of your back, or an arm around your waist. minho isn't often overt with his affection like that; he tends to dote on you in the privacy of your own loving bubble, away from anyone and everyone.

then, there's the softness that he's looking at you with in his chocolate brown eyes. it's warm, saccharine; it makes you feel like you two are the only people left in the room even though this is supposed to be someone else's big day.

"i love you," he says suddenly, brushing his nose against yours before leaning in just a tad closer to your lips, "you mean the world to me."

it's rare for minho to say things like this out of the blue. he's a man of few words after all.

he's full of surprises today, it seems.

"what's the occasion?" you ask with a coy smile.

"no occasion. just wanted to tell you that."

you close the distance, pressing your lips against his as his arms wrap themselves tighter around your body. "i love you too," you smile against him.

he mirrors your smile, and kisses you deeper. he's so sweet today, so openly loving with you even as your friends around you watch on.

you have an inkling that maybe, just maybe, he's been thinking the same things as you.

you stay in each other's arms until the song ends, then another one, then a couple more, just basking in soothing glow of love that's covering the air tonight. minutes pass with kisses shared, until it's finally time for the bouquet toss.

minho reluctantly lets you leave his side for the first time since the morning. his eyes follow you as you move to the front of the room, standing a comfortable distance away from the bride. you've never really been interested in this kind of things anyway; you're just doing it for the sake of participation.

everyone else is engrossed in what's about to happen, their eyes fixed on the bride and the peonies in her hands, but minho is only focused on you. you, who's trying to blend in with the group of people and undoubtedly praying that the bouquet doesn't make its way into your hands. you, whom he thinks looks so beautiful, all dolled up for the special occasion. you, who made his heart stutter when you walked into the room in your pretty dress and flashed him a bashful smile. (but who is he kidding? you make his heart want to give out and run away every single morning when he wakes up and sees you peacefully sleeping in his arms.)

just you. always only you.

you, you, you.

you don't hang in the moon in the sky. you are the moon, you are the stars.

minho watches you watch the bride as she counts down from 3, then flings the bouquet up in the air while everyone waits with bated breath. it's a mess of flailing arms from what he can tell, a couple of the bridesmaids practically fighting each other to try and grab the damn thing.

you try to make yourself smaller, to duck lower so that the others could have the honor instead of you. but when the flowers come hurling toward you, you have no choice but to raise your hands and catch it, lest you want to be lobbed in the face with a bouquet of peonies.

some of the people around you sigh frustratedly, but most of the guys around minho suddenly burst into loud cheers. they clap him on the back and shake him by the shoulders but still, he remains transfixed on you and your adorable wide-eyed expression. your parted lips and doe eyes blinking fast as a rosy flush creeps up your skin.

your eyes find him in an instant, and you both just stare at each other for a moment. he reckons that you're trying to gauge his reaction, because the room is now filled with excited squeals of congratulations and half-hearted jokes of how you and minho are going to be the next ones to get hitched.

you look uncertain, still frozen in place with your hands clutching the peonies.

but then he just smiles, and it makes you smile too, your body immediately relaxing as you give him a wave using the bouquet, your shoulders slumping slightly when you release a sigh.

to minho, it doesn't matter whether you caught the flowers or not; neither of you believes in that kind of stuff anyway. it doesn't matter because he's always known that he was going to marry you, that there's no one else he would rather spend the rest of his life with.

it doesn't matter because unbeknownst to you, he's already got a velvet box hidden somewhere in your shared home, with a gorgeous diamond ring inside just waiting for the day it can be put on your finger.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2024]

[giuliettagaltieri]

Garden of Uncertainties

Pairing: Husband!Gojō x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The day Gojō Satoru becomes a married man.

Warning: angst, arranged marriage, age gap, implied jujutsu society stigma

Word Count: 924

4 of 9

The day you marry Gojō Satoru was like any other day.

It was the definition of a Sunday morning, quiet, peaceful, and almost like a secret between the two of you.

One might imagine the day the strongest sorcerer would get married to be the grandest day every living man would ever see in their lifetime.

But it was quite the opposite. 

The number of guests who witnessed your marriage can be counted with just two hands.  The decorations were subdued, yet your eyes did not miss the diamonds that glittered your kanzashi.  A gift from the family you are to be wedded to.

You stand there next to Gojō, trying to be as still as you can.  You can hear every word the minister says and so is every song the birds sing outside the church, or every whistle of the breeze.

It was calm.

And the small smile on your husband to be’s lips added to the serenity the day has brought you.

You stood so close to him, but it barely felt close enough.  Almost cursing the distance between you.  You wonder if he felt the same.

Afterall, Gojō Satoru did not utter a single word to you the moment you stepped inside the doors of the church.  He stood waiting at the end of the aisle, offering a calming smile to ease your nerves, receiving your gloved hand as you reached him, but that was it.

Knowing Gojō all your life made you aware of how difficult he is to read at times.

And no matter how hard you want to believe that he is glad to stand there next to you to be wedded, no assurance from him means that you cannot let your guard down.

With that said, bile started to rise to your throat but you squeezed your eyes shut to calm your nerves.  

Nobody else can upset you better than yourself.

“Y/N.”  His soft whisper snapped you out of your thoughts.

You look up to him, your eyes wide in confusion, lips slightly parted, it makes his eyes linger on them for a moment.

“The uh…”  Gojō nearly snickers.  “The minister asked if you would take me as your lawfully wedded husband.”

Oh.

Oh!

“I do.”  You say quickly, turning to the already smiling minister.

Gojō playfully lets out a deep sigh of relief, making the witnesses behind you laugh at his antics.

The minister asks the same question to Gojō and he responds a split second later.  Your worries quell the tiniest bit.

More words were uttered by the minister and you get lost in your thoughts once more.

Gojō has a small smile playing on his lips as he listens.  His eyes stealing quick glances at the dazed look on your face.

As he expects, you don’t hear the declaration of the minister, flinching at the loud applause behind you as confusion fills your eyes once more.

And in a quick impulse, Gojō Satoru swoops in to capture your lips on his.

His hooded eyes met yours just before you melted against him, your eyes fluttering to a close.  And the cheers get louder. 

Warmth fills your chest, almost overpowering the doubts.

Almost.

Gojō ends the kiss with his eyes shrouded with a look that once again summoned the uncertainties to your chest.

But he gives you the smallest smile of assurance. 

“Calm yourself, my love.”  He whispers as he caresses your cheek.  And then he has your hand in his and a grin finds itself on his lips as he faces the small crowd.

You did as he told you and you smiled too. 

It is your wedding day. 

You have no business feeling miserable.

The banquet that followed was livelier.

Guests from the other clans and your husband’s acquaintances are all present.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at people all afternoon.

There were speeches from elders.  Some with lessons you will cherish forever, some with warnings hidden behind fragrant words. 

Naoya Zen’in, now tipsy, kept coming back to your table, saying over and over that he could have sworn he had been married to you before.  Until Gojō led him away.  You blanch after having caught the end of their conversation, mostly gruesome threats from your husband.

The sun was almost setting in the distance and you cannot quite come to a conclusion of how exactly you are feeling.

As you sit next to your newly wedded husband in his car, you nibble on your lips as you watch the pavement blankly.

“Have you come to regret your decision to meet me at the altar?”  His voice was playful but even so probing.

You let out a small exhale and mustered a smile as you faced him.

“No, of course not.”  You laugh lightly and Gojō returns your smile but the two of you face the road a second later.  Your smiles are gone.

The bliss brought on by the wedding was slowly fading, it seems.

You wanted to talk more with him.  To know him better.  But it felt wrong to break the silence.

Apparently, Gojō felt the same way as he no longer spoke, but instead, he put his hand atop your thigh and squeezed gently.  A show of affection, destroying any physical boundaries you previously had, solidifying the fact that you are now married and everything is about to change between you.

In response, you place a hand over his, telling him that you are willing to take the first steps with him into this voyage you embarked on.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Epilogue

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 3.7k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. A wedding, father/daughter dance, tears, laughter, unprotected p in v (reader's on birth control and they're married now so...), Sarah calls reader Mom, mention of Ellie...

A/N: This is the end, folks! They are a real family now. I'm not crying, you're crying. As we all know by now, this fic was inspired by the song Fall Into Me. Another song dear to me inspired a particular scene in this chapter - Butterfly Kisses. Check it out if you'd like. **it always makes me cry, so beware** This story is dear to my hear and I'm grateful for all the love it has received. Thank you for joining me on this journey!

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eleven | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The autumn sun began its descent, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange and red as it approached the horizon. Joel stared out the double-paned glass, too focused on calming his nerves to enjoy the rolling landscape of the vineyard below. Palms sweaty and heart thumping heavily in his chest, he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, popping the top two buttons open to help him breathe.

“Cold feet, son?” JB questioned from the doorway before slipping fully into the room. Tommy followed behind him, anxious to see why Joel was taking so long.

Their presence startled Joel and he grimaced. “Not me,” he grunted, still struggling to inhale deep, full breathes as his heart raced.

“You sure about that, brother?”

Joel directed a scowl in Tommy’s direction. “I don’t have cold feet, but I’m terrified she does,” he admitted gruffly. He couldn’t meet the other men’s eyes, feeling vulnerable.

“I promise you, son. Spud does not have cold feet,” JB soothed. “In fact, she has much the same worry about you.”

“A match made in heaven, I’d say,” Tommy chimed in with a grin, bumping his shoulder against Joel’s.

“Come on, now. Get your asses down to the vineyard before Maria comes looking for ya. She’s on a war path, that girl a’ yours,” JB directed with a wink to Tommy. “I gotta get back to Spud, make sure she doesn’t run off to find you before it’s time. Meet again at the altar, fellas.”

The brothers watched your dad leave. Throwing an arm around Joel’s shoulder, Tommy led him toward the door. “The ol’ bastard was telling the truth, ya know. She’s terrified of you getting cold feet. Emily and Sarah have been calming her down for an hour now, insisting that you can’t wait to marry her. That girl loves you more than anything, brother.”

Joel beamed, eyes softening at the thought of you walking towards him in a flowing white dress, wildflowers clutched in your hand, and eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy. The mental image soothed his nerves more than any words could and he finally let Tommy lead him from the room.

Fresh air with the slightest chill met them as they exited the building. The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air while guests arrived and took their seats. A charming wooden arbor adorned with colorful flowers, delicate greenery, and a white sash served as the altar at which the two of you would become husband and wife.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Joel walked down the aisle, nodding at some of the guests as he took his place in front of the arbor. He stood tall, looking undeniably handsome in a slate gray suit sans tie, the top few buttons of the ruby colored dress shirt left open offering a glimpse of his tanned chest and a sprinkle of hair. Thick curls were swept back from his face, facial hair trimmed to perfection with that little heart-shaped bare patch visible.

Stepping up to his left side, Tommy smiled broadly at the small crowd. His longer curls were tied back neatly, and he tucked a few stray locks behind his ears and sent a cheeky wink to his woman sitting in the front row. Maria rolled her eyes playfully. Tommy watched Joel’s hand flex, fingers bouncing against thigh in a nervous tick he had since childhood and braced a hand on his shoulder. “You got this, big brother.”

Before Joel could respond, the string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s Canon and he stood taller, eyes locked down the aisle in anticipation of seeing you. Tommy rushed off to the side to take his place in the processional.

Sarah appeared from behind a row of lush, thick vines, looking like an angel in a white dress with a ribbon of material matching Joel’s shirt tied around her waist. The little girl insisted that her dress match yours, not understanding that, traditionally, only the bride wore white. But you didn’t give a hoot about tradition, helping Sarah to find the perfect white dress, adding the sash as something unique. The recollection of the joy on Sarah’s face when she tried on the dress for the first time made Joel’s heart melt.

Sarah danced down the aisle; face lit up with glee as she scattered rose petals along the way from a small wicker basket clutched in one hand. When she reached the end of the aisle, she spun in a circle, allowing her dress to flutter around her, and tossed the last of the rose petals into the air, much to the delight of the guests and her father.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called, bouncing over to the place she was told to stand the evening before. Joel melted at the happiness on his daughter’s face, and he beamed back at her proudly. The little girl’s antics drew a soft rumble of laughter from the guests before all attention turned back down the aisle.

Tommy and Emily stepped past the vines next, looking resplendent in their formal wear, the shade of Emily’s dress reminiscent of a glass of finest pinot noir, matching the hue of Tommy’s dress shirt. Joel nodded at them as they approached, lips quirked in a half smile. His hand clenched at his side as he fought back the nerves again.

Moments later, the rest of the world fell away when you appeared, one hand clasped around your dad’s arm. The charming colors of the setting sun were no match for your beauty. Joel had never seen anyone or anything so perfect in his entire life. A crown of vibrant flower blossoms secured in your hair, the breeze rustled a few locks and the short train of your simple white gown.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you – not as you walked down the aisle to him, or when JB shook his hand in that ceremonial way of giving you to him, and certainly not as the officiant rambled through the ceremony. To put it simply, you mesmerized him.

He would almost regret it later, but the entire ceremony was a blur. The only parts he remembered included your face smiling broadly at him, the love in your glistening eyes as you repeated the vows you chose together, and the kiss after being declared man and wife.

“You’re stuck with me forever now, darlin’,” Joel’s gravelly voice rumbled in your ear after the sweet kiss.

Your tinkling laughter carried in air, spreading merriment throughout the vineyard. “Oh no, whatever will I do,” you whispered back.

“Can we go dance now?” Eager to get on with the fun part, Sarah interrupted your little moment.

“Of course, nugget. Let’s go dance!”

The little girl squeezed her way in between the two of you and having tossed her empty flower basket aside without care, slipping her hand in yours and the other in Joel’s to tug you both back down the aisle.

“Someone’s eager to get the party started,” Joel chuckled, lips spread in a jaw-aching grin as his little family made their way to the reception area. Your eyes sparkled back at him, full of happiness and love.

The winery boasted a lodge with an oversized deck suitable for your small celebration and enough rooms for the guest to stay the night. The path from the ceremonial area back to the lodge weaved through thickets of grape vines, plump fruit nearly ripe for the picking as the three of you ducked under and around the vines.

The vineyard was charming, a lucky find in your search for the perfect wedding venue. It was the only compromise Joel willingly made on a venue – he longed for a quiet, backyard wedding, but you insisted on something slightly grander in scale.

Maria and Tommy did a great job of recreating the ambiance of that night long ago in Joel’s backyard for the reception. Fairy lights were strung high across the deck, music playing softly as the guests mingled with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in hand. High top tables were scattered about, centerpieces full of colorful hydrangeas.

It was perfect.

Wanting to save money, you kept the guest list to less than thirty people, mostly family and close friends, and opted for a bulk purchase of disposable cameras rather than springing for the cost of a wedding photographer. In addition, you insisted on a tier of cupcakes over an actual wedding cake, the icing matching the ruby red color of wine. Sarah and JB offered to put together an eclectic playlist for the winery to play through their sound system rather than put forth the cost of a band or DJ. All in all, it was an entirely family run affair that didn’t break the bank and you couldn’t be happier for it.

You and Joel mingled with the guests for a while before it was time for your first dance. Staying on theme, Joel had one request regarding your wedding song – it had to be Fall Into Me. You could hardly deny that one request, especially as the song meant so much to the both of you, practically telling the story of how you came together. Just like that night in his yard, Joel sang the words in a soft, quiet voice meant only for you, your bodies swaying side to side across the floor like you were the only two there.

None too soon, your dad led Sarah onto the dance floor, letting her stand on his feet as he danced around, just like he used to do when you were little. Maria and Tommy soon joined them, along with Emily and her husband. Before long, the party was in full swing.

You fought back tears during the father-daughter dance. Just as Sarah insisted on her dress matching yours, she wanted to dance with Joel during the traditional time. You were more than happy to have them join you. The battle against the tears was lost during the first chorus of Butterfly Kisses.

JB held you tighter as the first tear fell, brushing it away with a calloused thumb. “Feels like just yesterday when you would dance around on my feet like that,” he said, voice rough and quiet with the choke of tears in his throat. “Now here you are, grown up and married, with a family all your own. You’re not my little Spud anymore.”

Thank fuck for waterproof mascara, you thought as a sob escaped. “Dad,” you drew out the word in a sob, tears flooding your eyes, falling faster. You could barely get out the next words, throat aching and vision blurry. “I’ll always be your little Spud, no matter how old I am.”

Joel danced closer to you, checking in with a concerned look as you cried. “Darlin’, you alright?” His eyes darted between you and JB, the shimmer in the older man’s eyes matching his own. Dark eyes softened into molten chocolate, and he gestured to your dad to switch partners.

JB let you go after a bone crushing hug and a kiss to your forehead. “Take care of my girl, ya hear?”

Nodding solemnly, Joel shook JB’s hand. “Always.” He ushered Sarah into JB’s arms, letting them dance for the rest of the song as he pulled you close. Joel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “I told you this song would make you cry, darlin’.  Let me wipe those tears away.”

Sniffling, your lips tilted up in a watery smile as he dabbed gently at your face. “I know, it always does. But it’s so beautiful, I had to include it.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Joel murmured, head nuzzled against yours. “Sarah already told me she’ll have this song at her wedding, too. I just know I’ll be crying like a god damned baby during the dance.”

That earned a laugh from you, the tears finally easing as the song ended. “Has she started planning her dream wedding already?” Joel nodded, a chuckle rumbling softly in your ear.

The evening carried on, dancing and drinking and laughing with everyone in celebration of you and Joel. You never really imagined your wedding as a kid, more concerned with being a tomboy and other, more important things. But you think now that if you had it likely would have imagined something exactly like this.

“Come on, Mrs. Miller,” Joel said when the lights finally dimmed, and the notes of the final song faded into the night. “It’s time to say goodnight to our guests.”

“Congrats, brother!” Tommy called cheerfully when you and Joel approached. His eyes large and glassy, a slight slur to his words providing evidence of a thoroughly enjoyable evening. “You two throw a great party. Do you need us to watch Sarah for the night so you can—”

“Alright you,” Maria jumped in, cutting the younger, drunker Miller brother off. “I doubt they want your drunk ass watching Sarah. Do you have someone lined up?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re good there. My dad is hosting a sleepover now that he is officially a grandpa. He’s insisting on being called Poppy just like I called my grandad.” You laughed at the memory of that conversation. JB was so excited to have a new nickname just for Sarah.

“Great! I would have been more than happy to help out but I’m going to have my hands full with this one,” Maria said with a gesture to Tommy where he swayed on his feet with a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

“Alone at last,” Joel whispered, carrying you through the threshold of the wedding suite. “You look beautiful in this dress, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

Any exhaustion you felt from the long, exciting day vanished at the smoldering look in your husband’s eyes. Your husband. Holy hell. Suddenly nervous, you slowly slipped the dress from your shoulders. Though you and Joel had been together more times than you could count, this would be the first time you had sex as a married couple.

Would his expectations be different? Should they be? Were you expecting something different? Should you? Fuck, why didn’t you think to ask Emily about this earlier?

“Darlin’?”

You glanced up to see Joel’s brows furrowed, realizing that you zoned out with your dress still around your hips. Warmth spread through your cheeks in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Joel. I’m… I’m a little nervous for some reason and got in my head about it.”

His lips tilted upwards as he stepped closer to help ease the dress down your body with gentle movements, knowing exactly what you needed to hear. “There’s no need to be nervous, sweetheart. It’s just you and me, like it always has been. We just have rings on our fingers now.”

And just like that, all worries fled your mind.

Once your dress was out of the way, Joel helped remove your bra and panties, leaving behind a trail of kisses on your dewy skin. His calloused hands, large but gentle, caressed every inch of bare skin before him, trousers growing tight as his body reacted to the sight of you.

His pupils dilated before your eyes and you pressed your lips to his, tongue teasing into his mouth to tangle with his in a searing kiss. He tasted of whiskey and chocolate and something so uniquely Joel, and you drank in the taste like a starving woman.

Still wearing far too much clothing for your liking, you ripped open his dress shirt, sending the buttons flying across the room. Oops. Manicured nails scratched down his bare chest, along his belly, until your fingers met the confining layer of his pants. After watching you fumble with his belt for too long – which, in reality, was only like two seconds, you swear – Joel brushed your hands aside and, without breaking the kiss, yanked the belt open and practically ripped his pants open to free his aching cock.

“What a lucky wife I am,” you purred, breaking the kiss, as your hand grasped his length. Your thumb traced over the bulbous head, smearing the precum pooling there, before bringing it back to your mouth for a little taste. “I get to experience this for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t tease, darlin’,” he growled low in his throat. “Besides, I’m the lucky one. I have the sexiest wife.”

Pants and boxer briefs shoved to the floor, Joel ripped off his socks and swept you right off your feet. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips as he walked to the large bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he never let go as he settled you on your back.

Already dripping for him, and too anxious to have him inside you already, you didn’t need any foreplay to be ready. His cock slid, with torturous slowness, inside your warm walls with the slightest nudge of his hips. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so tight,” he breathed against your neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he fucked into you.

A pleasurable burn spread through you, his cock splitting you open. “Mmm, so good. Fuck me, dear husband. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“As my wife wishes.”

Hips snapping, Joel set the perfect pace to bring you to the edge, heels digging into his ass with each powerful thrust. Fingernails scratched down his back, piercing the skin as he brought you to the peak, the orgasm causing your back to arch and muscles to spasm.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock like a fuckin’ vise. Gonna make me come too soon.”

The orgasm seemed to last forever, pleasure washing over you in waves until you trembled beneath Joel. “It’s never too soon. Come for me, babe,” you gasped when the ability to speak finally returned.

Joel’s thrusts became sloppy near the tail end of your climax, and he spilled inside you as soon as the words left your mouth. His ragged breaths tickled your ear, sending gooseflesh down your body from neck to toes. Your name fell like a prayer from his lips, praising you for how good you made him feel.

“I love you, Mr. Miller,” you said, peppering his handsome face with kisses when he slipped from you and fell to the side with a heaving chest.

“And I love you, Mrs. Miller.”

You don’t know where either of you found the energy, but you made love twice more that night and once again in the morning. After each time, you admired the sparkle of the rings adorning your left hands, the jewelry a tangible symbol of your commitment to each other in this life and the next.

“Mom?” Sarah asked from where she sat doing homework at the breakfast bar while you made dinner. Joel would be home any minute.

“Yeah, nugget?” You grinned, heart swelling every time she called you that. You lost count in the year since the wedding, but Sarah calling you mom would never get old. It was a treasure you never thought you’d experience before you met Joel.

“Do you and Daddy want more kids?” At twelve years old now, Sarah’s voice lost that babyish tone you used to love. She looked and sounded more grown up each day, but she was still her Daddy’s little nugget.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ve talked about the fact that I don’t want to have a baby and he doesn’t want one either. But I wouldn’t be opposed to adopting a child in need, if he wanted to. I’d have to talk to your dad about it though.”

Sarah went quiet while you stirred the pasta and checked the sauce. It was nearly ready, just another minute or two.

“Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Sarah looked up from her work to meet your gaze and shrugged her shoulders in a way that told you she was searching for words to explain herself.

“I dunno. I guess I always thought it would be cool to have a sibling, but then all my friends that have one or more always complain about them.”

Tilting your head to the side, you dug a little more. “So, you’re just curious?”

Dark puppy eyes gazed up at you again. “Yeah… well, no. There’s…” She paused as the timer went off and you drained the pasta and mixed it into the sauce.

“There’s what?” you questioned, placing the large bowl of pasta on the table along with a plate of warm garlic bread, hearing Joel’s truck pull into the driveway. “Come sit and tell me.”

Before Sarah could begin, Joel walked in and kissed you both hello. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink before joining you at the table and you both listened with rapt attention as Sarah explained her friend’s situation.

“You know my friend, Ellie?” she asked, to which you both nodded.

“The snarky one in the grade below yours? Yeah, I like that one,” Joel replied around a mouthful of food. “What about her?”

Sarah grimaced at her father’s poor table manners, earning a smile from you before she continued. “Well, she’s in foster care but her foster parents are awful. They drink a lot and don’t care about her. She ends up hiding out in the detached garage all the time, even staying there overnight just to get away from them.”

“That’s awful, nugget. I’ll look into her file on Monday, see if there’s anything I can do,” you replied. You didn’t realize she was in foster care. As a fifth grader, you haven’t had her in class yet.

Joel looked at you with big cow eyes, brows arched in question. You could practically hear him thinking – he hated the thought of a child suffering in any way. Before either of you could say anything, Sarah spoke up again.

“Well, I was hoping maybe we could adopt her, and she could live with us,” she said hopefully. “You know, since you don’t want a baby and I still want a sibling. It’s like a compromise or whatever.”

Turning to Joel, you could see the same hopefulness in his dark eyes, and your heart thudded in your chest. “Why don’t you invite her over for a sleepover this weekend so we can get to know her a little more. And in the meantime, we’ll look into what we’d need to do.”

Dinner forgotten, Sarah bounced in her seat and asked for your phone to call Ellie. “You guys are gonna love her, I promise!” Bounding away from the table to call her friend, Sarah stopped short at the edge of the room. “Oh, Ellie loves dogs. Do you think we could adopt one of those, too?”

fin

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@cuteanimalmama

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi,love ur stories 😍

I was wondering if u could do one based on 'I see the light' from tangled, where they meet at a mutual friends wedding or something, she was singing the song where she has the most melodiest voice and (charles, max or Pierre) somehow 'fall in love' at first sight of her along with her voice. Thx 😊😍

This was cute 💕 I hope you don't mind but I changed the setting a little bit.

Tangled Up In You || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x singer!fem!reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with his ex, more fluff WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist

Children were known to be resilient creatures that could adapt well to changes but Penelope had struggled to understand why her and her mother no longer lived with Max. It had been six months and still she asked where her ‘Maxie’ was and why he couldn’t come with them to their new home. 

So, it came as no surprise when she was asked who she wanted to invite to her 4th birthday party that Max was at the top of the list.

“...you don’t have to come, I can say you are busy-”

“No, I’ll be there, Kel,” Max interrupted as he put the call on speaker and added the event to his calendar. “Is P there? Can I talk to her?”

“Sorry, she’s with Daniil picking out her princess dress. The theme’s Disney, of course,” Kelly laughed softly before she sighed. “Are you sure you want to come, or are you just being nice?”

“I want to come. I miss our tea parties, and standing on tiny pieces of lego.”

The silence on the line lingered for a moment before she couldn’t help asking. “Do you miss me?” 

This time it was Max who sighed. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He hung up before she could apologise again. Somehow she always turned a conversation back to their relationship, but that wasn’t something Max would ever entertain. If the man knew one thing from his life of racing it was how to move forward and when the three year relationship he had run its course he had taken time to reflect, just like those post-race debriefs, and planned to use it as a lesson learned for next time.

Kelly had overdone it as usual. 

The largest ballroom of Hôtel de Paris had been transformed into a set straight from Disney and filled with actresses dressed as Penelope’s favourites princesses. 

It was easy to spot P when Max walked in because her excited squeals were impossible to miss and he followed the sound to the front of the stage where she was jumping excitedly.

“Maxie!” she screamed, running and jumping at him trusting he would catch her.

“Happy Birthday, P,” he grinned as he lifted her up into a hug. “I can’t believe you are two years old already.”

“I’m four, silly!”

“No, that can’t be. You can’t possibly grow up that quickly.”

“I can! Have you seen my princesses? My favourite one isn’t here yet but mummy said she’s going to be here any minute.”

Max scanned the room for the princesses and saw the usual ones like Cinderella, Snow White and Aurora. “Is Rapunzel still your favourite then?”

Penelope nodded with a big toothy grin. “She’s so pretty. I want to be like her when I grow up.”

Max put her down carefully and straightened the tiara sitting on her perfectly styled hair. “You are already prettier than everyone here, P.”

“There you are,” Kelly greeted Max as she left another conversation to join them, kissing his cheeks twice just a little too close to the corners of his lips. “Just in time too. Sweetheart, look who’s here.”

Penelope screamed as she spotted Rapunzel taking the stage, a long golden braid adorned with flowers hanging all the way down her back. “It’s her, it’s really her,” P squealed as she squeezed Max’s hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Max was in a state of shock as his jaw fell slack. “She is.”

The lights of the stage dimmed until only a single spotlight cast a warm glow to her skin, the braiding of hair around her head appearing like a golden crown, or more accurately, a halo.

Max recognised the song in an instant, remembering the evenings spent on the couch watching Tangled, P dancing across the living room floor as she sang her little heart out. The memory brought a smile to his lips and it only grew wider as the angel on the stage began to sing.

You double checked the wig was held firmly by the pins and not a strand of hair was out of place before running your palms over the dress to make sure there wasn’t a single wrinkle on the pastel pink material. Satisfied you were ready, you hooked the small microphone and earpiece into place and nodded to the sound engineer to start the cue.

It was no difficult task to smile brightly as the music began and you twirled out onto the stage, you lived for these days. Seeing the excitement and joy your performances made the children who witnessed it brought joy to your life. Seeing their eyes widen and their jaws drop was what motivated you to channel even deeper and give your all to the act.

All those days watching from the windows All those years outside looking in All that time never even knowing Just how blind I've been

You spotted the birthday girl at the front of the crowd and plucked a bright flower from the braid, kneeling down to tuck it behind her ear. Her smile widened and she could hardly stand still as she trembled with excitement.

You waved a hand to the ceiling and the projector illuminated it with a thousand little glowing dots and a surprised gasp whispered across the largest crowd you had ever sung to.

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight Now I'm here, suddenly I see Standing here, it's all so clear I'm where I'm meant to be

You smiled at the little girl once more before spinning on your toes beneath the twinkling lights, the tulle skirt billowing around you as if you were floating away with them.

Around the room, the other casted characters were turning on their lanterns and raising them into the air on near invisible strings. You could perform this set a thousand times and never tire of seeing the crowd's reactions to the lanterns floating into the night sky.

And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new

You scanned the crowd while they were in a state of wonderment looking up, but there was one man who wasn’t. He still held the same unblinking look of awe but he could have been oblivious to the lights the way he was staring right back at you.

There was something about the look that almost knocked you off your feet as your stomach flipped and heat burned on your cheeks under the intensity. His eyes, a pale shade of blue, drew you closer to the edge of the stage and his foot lifted as if he were to follow.

And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted

His lips moved like he knew the words by heart and you nearly missed the line as your heart skipped a beat. The rest of the crowd faded away as you knelt back where you had been and pulled another flower from your hair.

All at once everything looks different Now that I see you

He leaned forward and you tucked it behind his ear, your fingers grazing his jawline as you retreated. You were so absorbed by his shy smile and the blush highlighting his cheeks you didn’t notice the woman standing to the side of him. For a moment, before you caught yourself, it was only him that you sang to and only him that you saw.

“Please, please can I?” P begged her mother to go and see Rapunzel but after the breathtaking performance she had been in a mood and withdrew her hand from her daughter’s. 

“No, your cake is going to be coming out in a moment - I need to be here to show them where to put it.”

Tears welled along the four year old’s eyes and her bottom lip trembled before Max stepped in. “How about I take her?”

He had been watching the stage entrance for any sign of movement since her song had ended and it was hard to hide the disappointment when she didn’t return for another. He could still hear her voice and was busy committing it to memory in the hopes he could use the sweet, melodic sound to calm his racing mind when he lay awake alone at night.

Max couldn’t explain how utterly obsessed he had become or how he wished he knew what delicate perfume it was he had inhaled when she touched his face. He ran his hand along his jawline, following where her fingers had been under the guise of a scratch, and he was glad he had tidied his beard up for the event.

“Of course you would offer that,” Kelly bit back, pulling him from his thoughts as his hand fell away from his face. “Whatever, do as you want.”

Penelope understood the permission but missed the sarcasm and Max sighed to himself as he took P’s hand and made their way to the curtains that hid the makeshift backstage area.

“Rapunzel!” P squealed as she rushed forward, towing Max to keep up until she barrelled into the princesses legs and wrapped her arms around them. “I love you.”

You had almost begun to pull your wig off when you heard a little girl call out. You turned just in time to catch her as she grappled you into a hug and you laughed softly as you tucked her hair back behind her ear to see the flower you had given her.

“Aren’t you the sweetest little girl,” you giggled as you knelt down to her height and took in the sight of the man who followed her, his hands tucking into his dress pants. You drowned in the eyes that had held you captivated before tearing yours away and swallowing the disappointment that had crept up your throat. “I hope you are having the most magical birthday with your father.”

The birthday girl looked up at him with a laugh. “This is my Maxie.”

You tried to hide your confusion but he obviously saw it as he scratched the back of his neck, the material of the shirt he wore straining as his biceps tensed.

“Uh, I am, was, her step-dad,” he corrected as he gave the girl a small sad smile before offering his hand to you. “It’s just Max, or you can call me Maxie too, I guess, if you want.”

You smiled in amusement as you shook his hand, the touch lingering a little longer as neither of you made an effort to pull away.

“I’m Rapunzel,” you said as your eyes darted to Penelope.

“Right,” he chuckled and let his hand fall back to his side as he looked at her too. “Your cake might be waiting for you, P. Do you want to go check?”

“Can you come?” she asked you with big round eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but Eugene has probably got himself into trouble without me, so I should really be going. But I must thank you, it was an absolute delight to celebrate your birthday with you. I love getting to spend time with a fellow princess.” You swung your braid over your shoulder and the sweet scent of the fresh flowers filled the air. “You can have as many as you like.”

It took all your concentration not to look at Max when that was what you really wanted to do, especially when he knelt beside you and helped Penelope to choose which flowers to take. His arm brushed against yours and you nearly lost your balance from the deep breath you took of his mouth watering cologne.

Eventually she was happy with the dozen bright blossoms she cradled in her arms and thanked you before rushing to take them back to her mother. “Come on, Maxie!” she called without looking back to see if he was following.

He rose with a sigh and you hissed as your head was tugged sharply by the pins. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured as he saw his watch had got caught in the braid. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, it actually happens more often than you would think.” You rubbed the back of your head where the pain was worst and double checked the birthday girl was gone. “I’m Y/N.”

He repeated it with a smile as he slipped the watch off his wrist to use both hands to untangle it from the golden threads. “Would you let me take you to dinner to apologise properly?”

If you were wearing your microphone it probably would have picked up the sound of your heart from how quickly it started pumping. There was no denying this attraction between you and you could see he was equally affected by it too.

“No, I told you it’s alright,” you started, taking his hand when his shoulder slumped crestfallen. “But, you can buy me dinner if you want to make it a date?”

A bright smile broke across his face and you couldn’t help smiling back knowing it was because of you. “Tonight?”

You nodded as you reached into the hidden pocket in the dress and passed him your phone to enter his number before he sent himself a message to get yours. “You might not recognise me without all this,” you joked as you started to pull the pins out of the wig and freed your natural hair.

He chuckled and shook his head as he found you even more beautiful than before. “There’s no mistaking those eyes, I would recognise them anywhere.”

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 2

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hi everyone! it's currently exactly 2am for me lol but I wanted to get this chapter out today! i was hoping to having the wedding happen but I like it more for the next chapter. all the support has been so overwhelming and amazing, thank you guys so much for all the love!! i appreciate it so much and I'm grateful that you all are so supportive, especially for my first ever fic. i really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! also, just let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling

previous / masterlist / next

You could feel your eyes glazing over with the amount of time you’d spent staring at your computer screen. A quick glance at the clock showed that only a couple hours had passed since you’d arrived at work, and a devastating thirty minutes remained until your lunch break. Rubbing at your tired eyes, you tried to find the energy to resume reviewing the materials your team had sent you, but you came up short. 

The wedding planning had been taking a lot out of you the past couple of months, even though your mother wasn’t letting you decide anything for it anyway. She had been quite clear that all you had to do was show up and that your input wouldn’t be needed. You couldn’t honestly say you had an issue with that, this didn’t feel like your wedding anyway. If it were yours, you would’ve been getting married to someone you love, and crucially, someone who loves you in return.

But that wasn’t in the cards for you and you knew that well, so you went along with your mother’s planning placidly, agreeing to almost everything she mentioned and getting ignored on things you didn’t. It left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It felt like an out-of-body experience every time your mother pulled you into another appointment for your dress fittings or makeup and hair test runs. You could feel yourself simply going through the motions and just waiting until the appointment was done so you could return to your mundane life. 

Not much else had changed, honestly. You were still working, hanging out with your friends on occasion, reading in bed, and watching television in the evenings. The only thing looming over you was the date of the wedding, now only six months away. It felt like an omen, always hovering near you, spiking your heart rate, and making you sweat. 

Even your team had noticed your heightened anxiety and expressed their worries to you, especially the youngest, Choi Song Ha. She was a cute, young thing, a fresh face in the industry that you had quickly taken under your wing once you had set eyes on her in the new recruit orientation you visited just over a year ago now. You knew just how quickly the gaming industry ate up and spat out women like clockwork and you didn’t want the same fate for her, so you’d snatched her up into your team. She truly felt like the little sister you’d never had and your bond quickly grew over the months since you’d met. She had picked up on your dampened mood and resolved to leave you small treats of a chip bag or chocolates on your desk every other day or so as a means to cheer you up. She knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t appreciate outright signs of concern or making a scene at work, and you loved her for it. 

She had left you a small red ginseng jelly this morning with a doodle of a grumpy cat stuck to it on a post-it note. It made you smile every time you glanced at it.

It kind of reminded you of Yoongi. The two of you hadn’t talked since that night in the restaurant, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to talk to him. Your mother had given you his number and you’d saved it, but you hadn’t made any move to message him.

“Team leader?”

You turned, snapping out of your daze to face another one of your team members, Yeonsik. 

“Yes, Yeonsik,” you responded, trying to appear calm and collected, and not like you were just thinking about your soon-to-be husband who hates you.

“We have the materials from the character graphics department for Plan C ready, it’s in your inbox now. They said that they’re ready to make any changes you want, but they’re worried about the deadline for the second draft,” Yeonsik rambled. He was a nice man, only a few years younger than you, and quite passionate about his job since joining your team two years back, just after you’d become the team lead of Planning Group 1. He had a handsome face with longer, dark hair and bright eyes that were eager to please.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Also, good job on keeping Graphics 2 on track, I know they’ve been giving us a hard time with getting the updated designs over. Thanks again,” you said politely, sending him a small smile. Yeonsik beamed in response and returned to his seat happily. You chuckled fondly at his antics before opening the file he’d sent. You loved your team members and you held a high respect for them. You knew you led them well and that they respected you in return. It was a small team, consisting of only five people, including you, but you were content with the group and the dynamic. You often went out for drinks together after work, usually followed by karaoke and at least one member passing out, most often Yeonsik, who would then be picked up by his boyfriend. You were a close-knit group and you couldn’t imagine a better job.

Slowly, Mrs. Min’s words crept back into your mind at the thought of how much you loved your position. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t expect you to quit your job? You wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

No, he said that he would do his thing and you would do yours, you reminded yourself. That’s right, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t interfere in each other’s lives. Except, you hadn’t really agreed, had you? You’d just acquiesced because he’d been in the motion of leaving anyway. You weren’t really sure if that’s what you’d wanted, living separate lives and being married only on paper. 

Yoongi’s words rang clear in your head as you gnawed on your lower lip, was this really how this marriage was going to be? The two of you not even acknowledging each other except at galas and parties where you had to appear married? You didn’t want that.

But…if Yoongi did, how much say did you really have? As much as you wanted to make this work, it had to be a two-way street. If Yoongi didn’t want anything to do with you, you would have to accept that and just try to get through this the best you could. You had said to Joohee that day you’d found out, that there’s nothing you can do to stop him. 

It felt painful to come to terms with, especially in the environment of your office where you still had to appear professional. Thankfully, you breathed, none of your team members had noticed your mini-mental breakdown. 

Your phone buzzed with a new message from Yujin, your mother’s assistant.

From Yang Yujin

Hello Miss Y/N,

Your mother has asked me to confirm your three attendees for your wedding invitations. The invitations will be sent out on Friday night, so please send your three names with their contact information and address to me by then. If possible, please send it at least one day beforehand as Mrs. Seo would like to review them before I send the invitations out.

Additionally, she has set up another meeting for you with Mr. Min Yoongi on Friday, at 6 pm. Please find the location details below.

Please let me know if you need any other information,

Yang Yujin

You sighed, reading over the email again. For one, you honestly didn’t even know who you’d want to invite. You didn’t really have that many friends outside of Joohee, your colleagues, and Jung Hoseok, your friend from college. You knew that Joohee would already be invited, but you weren’t sure about Hoseok. He wasn’t a part of the same social circle as you and Joohee, especially since he didn’t come from a richer family, but you’d met him in college and introduced him to Joohee soon after. The three of you had been practically inseparable during your undergrad but after graduation, the three of you hadn’t met up in person in a while, with Hoseok in Busan for work. You tapped your chin thoughtfully with the eraser end of a pencil, maybe you should send an invite to Hoseok. Suddenly, another thought occurred to you, making the pencil drop from your fingers and onto your lap.

You hadn’t even told Hoseok about Yoongi!

“Damn,” you muttered, making a mental note to call him later today. You’d figure out the other invites later. Your eyes drifted to the second part of the email. 

Another meeting, huh? It sounds like it’ll be just the two of us this time. I wonder if he’ll be any different.

A rap of knuckles against your desk brought your attention back in front of you. Song Ha stood beside your chair, looking at you curiously, “It’s lunch, Team Leader. Want to grab something with the team downstairs?”

Shit, you had agreed to grab lunch with Joohee today. 

“No, Miss Choi, I’ll be meeting a friend of mine. But you all enjoy your lunch!”

“Alright, have fun!”

The team slowly filed out, discussing amongst themselves what they’d get from the cafeteria today. You almost longed to go with them, but you knew you had to tell Joohee about the email you got. 

You could feel a headache coming on. 

Sighing, you stood and gathered your things into your tote bag, never having liked purses, and started the walk towards the elevators to reach the quaint cafe across the street you and Joohee liked to frequent. 

You had arrived before Joohee, which was to be expected with your office right across and decided to grab a table for both of you. Setting your tote bag in the seat beside you, you read the email once more on your phone. It dragged another sigh out of you before you almost jumped into the air at the sound of Joohee’s voice.

“What’s got you so melancholy?’

You breathed out to calm your heart rate from the mini jumpscare and looked up at her. She was dressed a bit more formal than you in a light blue blouse and dark navy dress pants that fell gracefully in silk around her long legs with a maroon purse hanging from her shoulder. Her office was much more formal than yours, working under her father. Your own office often had team leaders and higher-ups in jeans, the nature of your work making it more casual, so you contrasted her in a simple black sweatshirt and blue jeans. 

“I have to meet Yoongi again on Friday.”

“God damn.”

You nodded somberly as she took her seat across from you, “You remember what happened last time? Why does it feel like he’s gonna eat me alive this time?”

Joohee looked at you suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You recoiled, shooting her a glare, “Good God, woman, not like that.”

Joohee relented, waving her hands in surrender, “Okay, well, assume he’ll be the same. Then you won’t be caught off guard. But I think you should still try to get through to him. Maybe, at the very least, you guys can become friends.”

You hummed in agreement, what she was saying made sense. You weren’t exactly hoping for a rom-com drama-like romantic relationship, but being friends wouldn’t be so bad. 

A waiter arrived, taking your drink and food orders, and you and Joohee fell back into easy conversation about your jobs and other small gossip. As much as you were trying to pay attention to what Joohee was saying, you couldn’t help your mind returning to Yoongi and his dark eyes scrutinizing you and his cold, biting voice. 

“Y/N?”

You focused back into Joohee and her concerned stare dug into you, “What?”

“Are you still thinking about Yoongi?”

You nodded, looking away. You felt bad for not listening to her especially when she had basically given you a solution to your anxiety regarding Friday. You heard her sigh before speaking. 

“Listen, Y/N, you can’t stop how he’s going to behave towards you. You can only control how you respond. I think your best bet is to try to tell him you’re not expecting him to treat you like a wife, but you want him to treat you like a friend. Unless that isn’t what you want.”

“No, it is,” you said, keeping yourself from burying your head in your hands, “And you’re right, that’s all I can do. Why didn’t you become a therapist, again?”

Joohee only grinned in response, “I’m too pretty.”

Joohee’s words from earlier echoed in your head for the rest of the workday. Did you really want him to treat you like a friend? Or something more?

You weren’t sure. Of course, you had this half-crush, half-infatuation with the man since you’d met him when you were younger, but marriage was a totally different game. Were you really ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you were attracted to but he couldn’t feel the same? 

Maybe he could.

You knocked that thought away as soon as it entered your mind, you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. You knew that Yoongi was less than happy about the situation and the unfavorable circumstances would only serve to further distance him from you. You would have to be okay with just being friends if that. 

As you paced around your apartment later that night, you stopped in front of your dresser in your bedroom. In the third drawer from the top was the handkerchief that Yoongi had given you when you were younger. You had kept it meaning to give it back to him, but you had barely seen him since then, let alone had a moment in private to give it to him. 

Most of your interactions had been minimal conversations at parties and galas, often accompanied by Joohee and Seokjin. You couldn’t recall a time when Yoongi had actually talked to you directly in any of those scenarios. So why did your crush persist?

Maybe it was the innocence of your first meeting, the cliche of it all. You, small, sad, and alone, and Yoongi, showing up like your knight in shining armor. You had had a fascination with him since then, always trying to seek out his silhouette or pitch-black hair at gatherings afterward. Yet, he never approached you alone, nor did you make an attempt to do so yourself. You had called it an infatuation with Joohee because it really was, you didn’t really know anything about him, much less had a full conversation with him. Even when you were in a group with him, Seokjin, and Joohee, he would barely acknowledge you. 

Not that he was obligated to.

You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the mattress. Would you be able to survive actually getting to know Yoongi? Your greatest fear was that you would fall in love with him, you were basically already primed for it. And that would not work out, you knew that, and you refused to consider any other outcome.

You couldn’t afford to get your hopes up.

Turning on your side, you could feel your thoughts drift to your few interactions with him growing up. He had always been polite, but cold. The most he’d said to you was a curt greeting and the barest of small talk. The only other interactions you’d really had were your first meeting and hearing about his escapades through the grapevine, mainly Joohee. Nonetheless, you found yourself infatuated, your eyes finding his slightly round cheeks and pouty lips inevitably. What would life be like once you got married?

You tried to imagine yourself in a domestic setting with Yoongi but quickly shut that down, that would only bring up unwanted feelings. You considered whether or not he would continue seeing other people after you were married. Joohee had said it was very possible. Would you be able to handle it? Joohee had suggested that you fool around a bit yourself but you had quickly dismissed that. Cheating was something you would never tolerate in a relationship, from the other person or from yourself. You knew that the reality would be different in your situation, but you still refused to let yourself stray from Yoongi.

Not that you hadn’t tried in the past. You had been in only two relationships leading up to now, one in college and another as a short burst after graduation. It all felt pointless when you knew you wouldn’t get to choose who you spent the rest of your life with. It was an agony that, along with other factors, ended both of your relationships. Mina had been a bright spot in your life, but she couldn’t deal with the fact that you were not only not out to your parents, but that you would likely not be able to be with her long term anyway. There had been other signs that the relationship wouldn’t work out, and you had tried to remain friends but it didn’t pan out past college. 

The relationship after college that had only lasted a few months was with Jaehyun, a sweet man who had been your coworker at your first job out of college. He was very kind to you and you felt comfortable in his presence, but you couldn’t handle the guilt of going out with him while knowing he wouldn’t be the one you marry. To his credit, he had been very understanding when you’d broken down in front of him in a guilt-fueled spiral. He’d held you until you calmed down, wiped your tears, and squeezed you tight before leaving, stating that you could always call him if you needed anything. You still messaged him sometimes, and you remained firm that if you did get to choose who to marry, he would be your first choice. 

The arranged marriage had been looming over your life since you were old enough to understand the importance of status to your family. You were sure Yoongi’s family was the same. You were both expected to keep your duty to your family, a repayment for the comfortable life you both had lived. Once or twice you had considered telling your parents you wouldn’t go through with it when the time came, but you knew that it would only result in you having to pay them back for everything they had ever given money towards for you. Even though you’d gotten multiple scholarships for college, your parents insisted you go to a prestigious university that rarely gave any money to their students because they knew their parents would have wide-open wallets. There was no way you’d ever be able to pay that back in your lifetime, especially with your current job. 

So you were stuck. But you knew you weren’t really all that unhappy. While the circumstances weren’t what you preferred, you couldn’t deny the small excitement that you felt at the prospect of being able to have a relationship with Yoongi. The caveat to that was also knowing that he was an entirely unwilling participant in this situation, which wasn’t really going to work to your advantage. You were set on remaining a realist, refusing to consider the idea that Yoongi might come to love you. It felt like you didn’t have much of any other choice. Everything about this entire situation made you feel like a passive observer, someone with no impact or voice, which wasn’t far from the truth. You imagined Yoongi was much the same.

Distantly, you wondered how many people Yoongi was allowed to invite to the wedding.

Speaking of! You had almost forgotten to call Hoseok, and it was getting late. You scrambled to reach for your phone, stretching your arm out to the nightstand where your phone sat, and grasping it. Dialing his number, you registered how low his contact was on your recent calls. You really needed to call him more often. Hitting his contact, you waited for the ringing to start. He answered rather quickly, which surprised you, as he was usually an early sleeper.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. I missed you. Hobi,” you said, not realizing how much you meant it until the words left your mouth. It really had been too long since you’d called.

“What’s up? You don’t sound too happy. Is everything okay,” he questioned, and your heart warmed at his concerned nature. He was always able to read you well, better than Joohee sometimes. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine I guess. I’m getting married, actually.”

The other end of the line was silent for a bit before you heard Hoseok let out a breath and speak, “Oh, wow. Okay. How are you feeling?”

You choked out a laugh, “You’re not even asking who I’m marrying?”

“Well, I know that it’s not someone you chose. So I want to know how you’re doing. When did you find out?”

Your laughter died at his serious nature, your attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, “About two months ago. The wedding’s in around six. Want an invite? I get a whole three guests of my own choosing.”

He chuckled softly at that, “Of course I do, you know I’ll be there. But seriously, how are you feeling about this?”

You almost sighed at his unwillingness to let you escape his question, “I don’t know, honestly. I really don’t. I think I’m weirdly at peace with it? I’ve been expecting it for so long and now it’s finally happening. Plus, it being Min Yoongi isn’t exactly the worst thing ever.”

You could hear his surprise over the phone, “Min Yoongi? Like your crush of almost two decades, Min Yoongi?”

You groaned, responding, “Jeez, way to remind me how old I am. Yes, that Min Yoongi. He’s definitely not as okay with it as I am though.”

“What do you mean?”

You recounted the past meeting with his family to Hoseok while he patiently listened and interrupted occasionally to provide his own thoughts. When you finished, you could practically see him falling back against his desk chair, exhaling a burst of air. 

“Well, that’s a lot.”

You let out a short laugh, “Yeah, that’s been my life for the past couple of months.”

“I think Joohee gave you some good advice. I’d probably say something similar to you. Try to make the most of the situation but don’t expect a lot from him. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, enough about me, how are you doing? How’s work?”

Hosek launched into recapping how busy the dance school he taught at had been lately and the gossip surrounding his coworkers. You felt yourself relax more into the conversation and slowly forget your troubling feelings surrounding Yoongi. 

You would deal with those come Friday. 

It was Friday. You made sure to leave work a bit early, giving you enough time to run back to your apartment to change and look presentable. You had chosen your outfit with Joohee’s help the night prior. You were meeting at a relatively fancy restaurant but it was more of a bar, so you didn’t want to be too formal. You had opted for a green dress with a small flower print since you were coming off the winter months into spring. Your dress was an A-line cocktail dress with a square neckline and puffed sleeves that cinched at your wrist. You’d had it for a while and knew how it looked on you, and you knew you would feel comfortable in it tonight. The last thing you needed weighing on your mind was getting in your head about how you looked, which you usually felt nauseous from. 

With it approaching six, you quickly finished up some minimal makeup, topped it off with a lip tint, and tried your best to make your hair look presentable after what was a long day of work. A glance at your watch told you that you didn’t have much time left, so you rushed to your car, almost forgetting your small purse, and started your drive over to the restaurant. You didn’t want to be late and make a bad impression on Yoongi, although you didn’t know if his impression of you could get any worse. 

After you arrived and were sat at your table, you checked your phone to see the time and were relieved to note that you were a couple of minutes early. You felt yourself relax into the booth and started taking slow, calming breaths to slow down your racing heartbeat. The adrenaline of trying to get to the restaurant on time was starting to fade and you took another glance at your watch. 

6:06

Well, that’s fine. He’s probably just a little late, you tried to reassure yourself, but you had a sinking feeling. As the minutes marched on, the sinking feeling grew deeper, and you could feel yourself growing slightly annoyed. 

6:29

Well, whatever.

You took out your phone from your purse and decided to message him. It should be reasonable, right? You had scheduled this beforehand, after all. Well, not you, your mother, but still, the principle held. 

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, this is Seo Y/N. I’m waiting at the restaurant at the moment 

and I was wondering if you were alright, since you weren’t here yet? Please let me know if you’d like to reschedule instead.

You winced at how the text message sounded more like an email between colleagues, but you weren’t sure how casual you were supposed to be with him. Before you could mull over the tone of your message more, you hit the send button and bit your lip as you waited for a response. Your fingers began to pick at your dress in a nervous habit and you kept your eyes trained on the restaurant entrance in case you spotted him. 

Finally, at 6:42, you saw the head of black hair that had haunted your dreams as of late. He walked in calmly, looking slightly disheveled, but his lax pace didn’t betray anything about his tardy entrance. He looked infuriatingly attractive in a well-fitted suit with the tie loosened and the top couple of buttons undone. His eyes met yours as the hostess led him to your table and you smiled politely at him, receiving only a cursory nod in return. The waitress quickly approached as he sat down across from you and took his drink order, two fingers of whisky, while you asked for more water. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drink, more that you needed to keep your wits about you for this dinner and alcohol would only make you feel nauseous in your already anxious state.

With the waitress gone, he turned to you and you felt yourself flush automatically, something you internally cursed. You wished he didn’t have such an effect on you. He declined to say anything, so you took a moment to take in his appearance now that he was much closer to you. 

You could see that his collar was more rumpled than you initially thought and his hair a bit more mussed. You saw a small mark just barely visible from beneath his white button-up, above his tie. Now that he was much closer, you could smell a faint scent of a sweet perfume that you knew wasn’t yours since you had only worn a very light citrus one. 

Oh. He was with someone else. Why does that bother me so much?

Finally, he spoke, his deep voice lulling you out of your trance of staring at the mark on his chest, “Sorry I’m late. I saw your text, but I was driving. To be completely honest, I forgot about this.”

For a moment, his apology surprised you. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to apologize. Maybe you’d built him up to be this cartoon villain in your head after your last interaction, but you’d forgotten that he was human just like you. 

“That’s alright, it’s no problem,” you responded kindly, noting the way his eyebrow slightly furrowed at your response, “How was your day?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a questioning manner, “Are you really going to do small talk with me?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh at your failure to engage him and tried for a new tactic instead, “Okay, what would you like to talk about then?”

“I want to set some ground rules.”

Your surprise must’ve shown on your face because you saw the way his expression almost changed to amusement. You quickly shook off the abruptness of the statement and nodded your head, “Okay, like what?”

“First, you’ll be moving into my apartment. I’m sure your mother already told you,” you nodded, “Do not enter my bedroom or office without knocking. I’ll extend the same courtesy to you. Second, we keep our lives separate. Unless we need to appear at an event together, we shouldn’t be mingling our private lives, including friends, work, things like that. Thirdly, this marriage is going to be on paper only. Don’t expect me to treat you like my girlfriend, or my wife, because we both know that’s not what this is.”

You felt your teeth take in your bottom lip as you considered his words, “Okay, that’s fine, I guess.” You couldn’t really stop him from wanting to do that, but it still hurt some. Any hopes you had of getting a normal romantic relationship after this were quickly dashed by his next rule.

“Lastly, I want this to be open. Our parents aren’t pressuring us for kids, so we can both find relief elsewhere. We both know this is only for increased stocks and influence in our respective companies. So, I do whatever I want and you do whatever you want in that regard, and we don’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”

You felt your face fall a bit, but you tried to control your expression. You had prepared for this, Joohee had prepared you for this. So why were you still so upset? He’s giving you the go-ahead to find whoever you want, so it’s not technically cheating. So why does it still feel so wrong?

“Okay,” you said uneasily, “That’s all okay.” It felt like you were saying it more for yourself than for him. 

His eyebrow quirked once more. They were very expressive, you noticed. 

“That’s it? You don’t have any rules of your own you want to add in?”

Your hands clenched onto the edge of the booth seat, needing something to ground you. Rules of your own? Your head was swimming with everything that had just happened, you could barely think of anything else, “No, none I want to add.”

Yoongi leaned back and clasped his hands, “Alright then. Shall we eat? My dad’s technically paying so eat all you want.”

You shakily took hold of the menu you’d already looked over a hundred times while waiting for him, not wanting to appear rude by being on your phone. You had already chosen what dish you wanted when Yujin had sent you the restaurant name, a habit of yours being to look up the menu beforehand to choose. The waitress approached and took your orders, taking the menu from your hands, leaving you with nothing to grasp your quivering fingers onto. 

You looked over at Yoongi, seeing him on his phone, scrolling. You felt yourself blanch at the blatant disregard and couldn’t find it in yourself to try and start a conversation. 

The minutes passed by slowly, and you were barely relieved when the food came, providing momentary respite by giving you something to do. You felt like you’d never been in a more awkward situation. The waitress quickly refilled both your drinks, and you noted that Yoongi had ordered water this time. It must be because he’s driving. 

Soon, the both of you finished your food, in utter silence. The waitress, who was quite on top of her game, swiftly provided the bill and told you to take your time. You had a feeling she felt the awkward tension as much as you did.

Once the bill was paid, you and Yoongi walked out towards the parking lot where he started shifting to move in the direction of his car before you blurted out, “Wait!”

He turned, facing you with a bored expression, waiting for you to finish speaking.

“I do have a rule actually.”

Seeming slightly intrigued now, he gestured for you to continue.

“I want us to try and be friends. Please.”

He seemed slightly surprised, judging by the way his eyebrows lifted slightly and his mouth parted. Collecting himself, he looked directly into your eyes, his dark orbs boring into your own, “No. I want us to keep our lives completely separate. We’re not friends.”

With that, he turned around and walked to his car, not sparing you another glance. 

“Wow, what an asshole.”

You hummed lazily in agreement, feeling your head lull. You were already a bottle deep in more cheap Moscato with Joohee, as well as a couple of shots of strawberry soju. 

“I know right! I agreed to whatever he said, why couldn’t he agree with the one thing I asked for?”

Joohee winced and prepared herself for your buzzed anger that was sure to flare up at her next statement, “Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. It did conflict with his other rule. Not that I think he’s justified either. There shouldn’t be a problem in being friends.”

Your head snapped towards her, seeing it as a defensive move for Yoongi in your half-drunken state, but before you could find the energy to get upset, you felt yourself melt further into the couch, “Yeah, you’re right, I guess. Whatever, I don’t need him. I’ll just fuck anyone who looks my way, instead.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” you cried, collapsing onto the pillow beside you, squeezing it tight, “Why am I so pathetic?”

“You’re not,” Joohee cooed, “You’re just in a shitty situation. So is he, but at least you’re not being a dick about it.”

You nodded glumly, still not feeling better about the situation. As you cradled the now-empty wine bottle to your chest, you remembered Hoseok.

“Oh yeah, I invited Hobi for the wedding. My coworker, Song Ha too. Can you believe I couldn’t think of a third person?”

Joohee laughed before throwing herself onto the couch with you, “Hey, you don’t need other friends, you have me. Besides, we’ll all be together again, then! It feels like forever since we’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, I told him and he said the same stuff as you. To try and make the best of it, or whatever,” you could feel yourself becoming less and less sober, “Can I crash here tonight?”

“Of course, do you want me to wash your dress for you?”

“No, I’ll just do it at my place. Thank God I have you.”

Joohee only laughed loudly in response, getting up to grab another bottle of soju from the fridge. The two of you lounged around before moving to watch TV in Joohee’s bed where she promptly fell asleep. Soothed by her snoring, you relaxed into her comfortable mattress and traced the light extrusions on her ceiling. Your thoughts soon drifted to Yoongi, as they seemed to do often these days. 

Was he really fair in rejecting your friendship? Joohee had made a good point earlier in that it certainly conflicted with his rule of ignoring each other outside of obligated functions. But…you didn’t want that. So why did you agree? In the moment, it hadn’t really felt like you’d had another choice. You seemed to be feeling like that a lot lately. 

Yoongi seemed serious about this marriage being for business only and you knew that you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t exactly tell him as such. You couldn’t be more sure that he would only be disgusted if he heard you say that and you didn’t think you’d be able to survive seeing that kind of emotion on his face when it’s directed towards you. 

Not that you’d be able to survive this marriage either. 

Your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of the sleep shorts you’d borrowed from Joohee, a frequent occurrence whenever you stayed over, and you saw her shift in her sleep. She really had been so supportive throughout this whole thing. 

Maybe you should go to her brother for help? No, Yoongi would probably hate that. 

You resisted the urge to kick your feet in frustration out of fear of waking up Joohee. This was so difficult, it was next to impossible to figure out what your next move should be. 

You had a nagging feeling that your mother wouldn’t force you to meet up with Yoongi anymore before the wedding, but why did that not feel like a clear-cut win? Did you want to meet with Yoongi again?

Rubbing at your eyes frantically, you pushed aside the flurry of questions stirring inside you. You didn’t have time to deal with this. There was a large project at work that was in its final stages that you needed your full attention on and then the final beta tests before the official launch, just weeks before your wedding. You couldn’t afford to spend another moment thinking about Yoongi. 

As you got more comfortable in Joohee’s bed, you turned your head to face the clock on her bedside table, reading 3:09 AM. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you forced your eyes closed to try and get some rest. 

You had an inkling that Yoongi would be occupying your thoughts whether you wanted it or not. 

“We’ll be meeting for the rehearsal dinner in one week, Yujin will send you the information and instructions. Don’t be late.”

Your mother’s voice cut off after that, not bothering to say goodbye before ending the call. You could feel your headache coming back and you fumbled for your water bottle before getting up to grab a red ginseng packet from the breakroom. Things had been a lot lately. 

The final preparations for the wedding were underway and your mother was leaving nothing to chance. Your dress had been fitted to perfection with your mother sending you a strict diet and workout plan to make sure you stayed the exact same size until the wedding. That email had been swiftly archived. 

You weren’t even sure of who was in your bridal party other than Joohee being your maid of honor. Not that it mattered. This wedding wasn’t for you anyway. 

As you slowly sucked out the paste from the ginseng packet, leaning against the break room counter, you wondered if Yoongi had had to go through similar procedures, though likely less extensive. You hadn’t heard from him since that dinner where he’d firmly placed a boundary between you, but he’d rarely left your mind since. You’d hoped that the reality check with Yoongi might help clear you of your feelings for him, but, instead, they only deepened your desire to get to know him better, to break past that boundary. But you knew that those ideas were merely fairy tales and this marriage was not going to be one by any means. 

Distantly, you wondered how the ceremony would go. The two of you hadn’t prepared any vows, nor were you expected to. This wedding was not a show of love and everyone knew that. Your parents weren’t concerned with making it appear as though you and Yoongi were a loving couple, no, this wedding was more of an excuse to show off their wealth and influence. Your nuptials were merely a byproduct. Still, would you have to kiss Yoongi?

You quickly shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the mental image, feeling your cheeks flush hot. Yet, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You imagined his lips would be soft and gentle, that he would lead you through the kiss and deepen it for more. His hands would come to rest at your waist before encircling it, pulling you closer, flush, to his body. 

No! You can’t imagine that, you’re not allowed!

Internally, you scoffed. What kind of girl wasn’t allowed to imagine kissing her fiance? You knew the truth, however, that it wasn’t your place to imagine yourself in that position. That was reserved for the person he loved, who was, decidedly, not you. 

Tossing the packet, you made your way back to your way back to your desk. Settling into the pillowed surface of your chair, you browsed through your emails before noticing one from the marketing team.

From: limheesungmarketing1@okgaming.com

RE: MIRA’S AWAKENING Influencer Advertising

Hello Team Leader Seo,

We have decided that we would like to reach out to online influencers and streamers to assist in promoting Project Mira’s Awakening. A list of possible candidates is attached, along with their profiles and viewer analytics. We would like your input on any public figures you believe may be good candidates for this endeavor. Please reach out if you and your team come up with any candidates that are not already included in the attached file.

Additionally, we would like to create merchandise to provide for these public figures and we need to confirm with you and Graphics Team 2 on graphics we can include on merchandise items. You will find a list of items we are looking to make, along with graphics suggestions, attached as well. Please coordinate with GT 2 to send over finalized ideas and start creating the images.

Thank you,

Team Leader Lim

You considered the contents, feeling the eraser of your pencil tap against your lip, who could you suggest? You had your favorite streamers, but none aligned that well with the nature of the game you were producing, which meant the viewer base wouldn’t have enough crossover with your target audience. Running through a list of the streamers you watched regularly in your head, you stopped at one in particular. 

Goldenboy97. 

Jeon Jeongguk was quite popular and played enough combat-based games to have sufficient audience crossover, while still being intriguing for the puzzle aspect of the game. Not that you were biased, but he was your favorite creator at the moment. You jotted down his handle and a note to ask the rest of your team about their thoughts. 

Leaning back in your chair, you stared blankly at the screen as the emails continued flooding in. Slowly, but surely, your thoughts drifted back to the phone call with your mother. The wedding was next week, with the rehearsal dinner only being seven days away. 

You felt a strange combination of dread and giddiness, a swirl of emotional turmoil you weren’t ready to unpack. Hoseok was coming back tonight and you were picking him up from the train station. You’d probably have time to process your emotions then. Hoseok was staying at your apartment in the guest bedroom for a couple of weeks so he could be there through the whole wedding process. He had also mentioned looking for an apartment to move into in Seoul, which made you excited. You really wanted to have the college dream team together again.

The thoughts of the actual wedding were stoking your nerves, you still hadn’t talked to Yoongi since the last time you’d met. You weren’t sure of the protocol or if you should try to talk to him beforehand, especially about the ceremony. Too cowardly to act on your anxiety, you shut off your opened messaging app on your phone. You weren’t keen on finding out how Yoongi would respond to an unprompted message. 

The sound of your team packing up alerted you to the time, being slightly past five. You joined them in getting ready to leave before heading to the elevator. The rest of the group trekked slightly ahead while Song Ha walked slightly slower to stay back with you. 

“So, the wedding is next week. Are you excited?”

You chuckled nervously, “Yeah, you could call it that.”

“Ah, are you nervous? Makes sense. Just think, though, soon, you’ll be married to the love of your life! How exciting!”

Your insides felt queasy. You hadn’t told Song Ha about the nature of your relationship with your betrothed because you weren’t exactly sure how to explain it to someone who wasn’t familiar, nor did you want to deal with the embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

You bit your lip, “Nowhere, actually. We couldn’t get time off of work at the same time.” The honeymoon had long been decided as an unnecessary expense, and neither you nor Yoongi complained. Being stuck with him for weeks after the wedding in another country sounded like a nightmarish situation. You wouldn’t have minded a vacation though.

“Gosh, that sucks. Hopefully, you’ll be able to do something over the summer, maybe,” Song Ha pouted, swinging her work bag in line with her step. You smiled at her naivete.

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Hobi!”

You ran towards the taller man, throwing your arms around his upper body, “I missed you! It feels so nice to have you back in Seoul.”

Feeling his chest rumble with a laugh, you squeezed him harder before releasing him. 

“Feels good to be back too,” he responded, a bright, heart-shaped smile adorning his face, “Let me get my bags to your car.”

“Oh, right, let me help,” you nodded, reaching for the bigger suitcase to roll towards your car. Hoseok easily picked up the duffel bag lying at his feet and followed behind you. You had opted for driving to the station since his train had come too late for the buses to still be running, and you didn’t want to have to deal with paying for or lugging his baggage into a cab. 

After loading the luggage into your trunk, you both settled into the front seats of your well-worn car. You heard Hoseok chuckle while clicking in his seatbelt, “This certainly feels different from the drunk bus and taxi rides back to the campus dorms. Even if it’s about the same level as luxury.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hey, my car is reliable. The previous owner only had it for a couple of years before selling it off and she’s been perfectly good since then. Though, my mom would probably agree with you on the luxury bit.”

“Yeah, well, who wants to listen to her opinion anyway. Before I forget, thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here, I know it’ll probably be annoying with the wedding prep going on.”

“It’s no problem, seriously. Besides, a lot of my stuff’s been moved over to Yoongi’s for when I move after the wedding. I’m just keeping my apartment there in case I need it since I won’t be paying rent at Yoongi’s.” Keeping the lease on your apartment had been a conscious decision because you had figured you’d want a safe space away from the marriage drama and it wouldn’t be an extra hit to your income. What your mother and Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

“Has he really paid off his entire apartment? You’re marrying a proper chaebol,” Hoseok joked. 

You laughed lightly, a tinge of awkwardness at the idea that you really were, and you had no idea how he’d act in his own house. Tapping your fingers along the steering wheel, you tried to subtly change the topic, “Well, speaking of apartments, do you know where you’re going to be looking?”

Hoseok launched into a detailed plan he had for looking at rental properties in Seoul for both his apartment and the studio he wanted to open. You excitedly listened along, thrilled that he was planning on settling near you, as you drove to your own apartment. 

After you’d parked, Hoseok insisted on taking the large suitcase, claiming that only he was strong enough to lug it up the stairs. You only laughed a little bit at his sour expression when you showed him the perfectly working elevator. 

Punching in the code to your apartment, you swung open the door, making sure not to step food inside. A loud pop rang out and confetti sprayed out from the doorway.

“Surprise!”

Hoseok stumbled back, clutching at his chest and mouth agape at Joohee’s excited smile from inside the apartment, “Shit, Joohee, you scared me!”

You laughed loudly before grabbing his suitcase and rolling it inside, setting the duffel bag on top. Joohee began cleaning up the mess of confetti, Hoseok started to unpack what he’d need for the night, and you began unboxing the pizza that had arrived while Joohee was setting up. 

As the three of you settled into your living room, Hoseok already teasing Joohee, you felt like a void in your heart had been filled. The last few months had been so stressful and it hadn’t felt like you’d gotten a break emotionally in so long. The sounds of your friends chattering and laughing made you feel at ease. So, naturally, Hoseok had to ruin that.

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling about the rehearsal next week? Or the wedding, for that matter.”

You shifted in your position on the loveseat, feeling yourself frown, “Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect. I can’t believe I’ll be married in just over a week.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you continued, “I haven’t talked to Yoongi in like six months. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You could feel yourself spiraling, but you had been holding in so many emotions that it felt like you couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “Honestly, I’m really scared. I don’t want this to be my life forever. I’m not ready, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Joohee got up from her spot on the couch to hug you, Hoseok joining soon after. Something about their touch comforting you pushed you over the edge, the dam broke, and tears began streaming down your cheeks. You sniffled pathetically, hating the level of vulnerability you were currently displaying. You hadn’t cried throughout this whole experience, but in the comforting presence of your closest friends, you couldn’t help it. 

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to marry him if it’s going to be like this. Why does my life have to be this way? Why can’t I be normal?”

Joohee and Hoseok only squeezed you in response, not having an answer to your questions. Your tears continued on until you couldn’t cry anymore and Joohee finally released you. She stood and smiled kindly at you, “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Water, please,” you said raspily, throat dry from all the crying. Joohee nodded before heading to the kitchen, leaving you with Hoseok who had shoved himself into the loveseat to further comfort you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly muffled by burying your face in Hoseok’s soft, cotton shirt. 

“You know you can always talk to us. I wish I could change this for you, that you didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, stroking your hair. 

“It is what it is,” you said, feeling much more mellow now that you’d cried out all your overwhelming emotions. 

“Still,” Hoseok insisted, “He has no reason to be such a jerk.” You shrugged, you felt the same but there wasn’t much you could do to change that. 

Joohee returned with a cup of water which you gratefully took and sipped. Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, and a headache coming on, you tapped Hoseok to get off of you, to which he complied and clambered off the loveseat.

“Sorry guys, I’m just so exhausted now. I really appreciate you being here, but I think I’m going to head to bed,” you stated, hugging both of them, before starting to gather the trash to clean up. 

Joohee laid a hand on your shoulder to stop you, “Go, get some rest. We’ll clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Hoseok exclaimed, and pushed you towards your bedroom, “Go to bed!”

Laughing, you acquiesced and headed into your bedroom to get ready to sleep. As you went through your nightly routine, you felt yourself feeling a bit calmer about the upcoming week. You had your two closest friends by your side. 

You were ready to handle anything that Yoongi threw at you.

Probably.

Yoongi lightly swirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers as he sat at his desk in his brown leather chair. By this time next week, he would be getting married. 

His eyes drifted towards the manila folder lying at the edge of his desk, a small water stain on the corner. Inside were the files on his soon-to-be wife, Seo Y/N. He took a sip of his whiskey, the smoky flavour traveling down his throat, as he considered his fiancee. 

He didn’t know what to make of her. She just seemed so meek and obedient, which wasn’t at all appealing. He didn’t remember much of her from before the arrangement, aside from vague interactions between them and the Kim siblings. She had seemed quite timid then too. 

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, setting his glass on his desk. He didn’t want to do this marriage. It was a chore, really. 

Yoongi didn’t necessarily have anyone he was looking to marry, but having to pretend to be exclusive with some girl he didn’t care about wasn’t conducive to the bachelor lifestyle he’d cultivated. He’d set his ground rules, and she’d agreed, pretty easily, another thing that irked Yoongi. 

Couldn’t she stand up for herself? Or say anything at all that was her own opinion?

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, he supposed she had said something that night. She’d wanted to be friends. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He figured it might be some condition about how she didn’t want to work or for him to stop seeing other people, but, instead, she’d simply asked for his friendship. And he’d refused. 

Of course he did, it went against his other rule. He wanted to keep his life separate from this artificial marriage and that included remaining nothing but acquaintances. He’d have to be steadfast, he decided. That night, when he’d seen your imploring expression with hope shining in your eyes, he’d almost agreed. He wasn’t sure why that was, or if he even wanted to know, but he couldn’t let it happen again. 

Despite your docile and unassuming nature, you were dangerous. And you didn’t seem to know it, which made you all the more so.

previous / masterlist / next 

[allwaswell16]

Happy Fan Fic Writer Appreciation Day 2024!

The first lines of some amazing fics by some of my favorite 1D writers! Since I've done this post for so many years, this year I limited it to fics that were published in the last year or so. Please check out the past years' lists here where you'll find even more incredible writers! Thank you to every writer in our fandom for your gifts of fic to us all!

Louis hung up his keys and coat as his cottage door closed to protect himself from the drizzle.

He’d only given in because he was lonely.

The sun sat low in the sky, bathing the expanse of beach in warm, golden light. 

Louis looked around the room, waiting for the others to laugh and let him know that the last ten minutes had all been an elaborate joke and of course they weren’t serious. 

Harry’s thighs burn.

Harry Styles was a star.

Harry Styles has standards. 

The man in the video was annoyingly chipper in the face of what seemed to Louis to be imminent disaster. 

The first time it happens isn’t even intentional.

Louis Tomlinson strived for perfection in everything he did.

Liam Payne doesn’t know how he got here. 

Standing in front of the second-hand mirror hanging on his closet door, Harry looks himself over. 

If she was being honest, the last thing Harry wanted to do at the moment was get ready to go out.

It had been a good idea when he’d agreed to it.

Louis tilted his head up and took in a deep breath.

Bosworth Academy for the Well-Bred Omega sits upon a hill overlooking the quaint town of Kinsey in county Durwin.

Stumbling through the door, Liam dragged the sweat soaked vest over Zayn's head, pushing him back against the wall.

It’s December first.

He gets sent home.

Life wasn’t supposed to be like this.

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different.

Liam is in the middle of fucking nowhere, the two-lane highway stretching ahead and behind him, as far as the eye can see. 

When Harry first tells him, Zayn isn’t sure what to think.

Spending his Saturday night with an older man who was not his father was never what Harry Styles pictured his mid-twenties to look like.

Louis rolls over on his back, sighing in frustration as he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand.

“Wait! Please don’t go!” 

Waking up from rut is a bleary, confusing experience. 

He knew scrolling through his phone so soon would only end in disaster, and yet he opened Instagram anyway.

There’s music echoing throughout the rink, an instrumental Disney song.

The telly is on when Louis comes home, keys jangling in the lock as he swings the door open and kicks off his shoes into the haphazard pile by the mat. 

“So, what did you have in mind?”

Two essential tips for anyone planning to take a nighttime stroll: don't forget to bring a heavier jacket, and make sure your phone is fully charged.

The large fluorescent lights groan awake high on the ceiling overhead as Harry flips on the light switch.

“You heading home, mate?” Liam asked as the movie ended.

Louis curls his hands around the balcony railing, tilting his head up to let the slanted rays of the evening sun catch on his face.

When Harry opened Niall's door, a combination of warm air and cologne greeted him.

“Harry? Are you home, love?”

It was the first day back after Winter Break, and Louis did not want to be here.

Louis has been single for 369 days, and the last place he wants to be is at a wedding.

Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate.

Even before Louis presented as an omega, he’d dreamed of one day finding his soulmate.

Authors in order of first lines:

@nouies @jaerie @disgruntledkittenface @2tiedships2 @haztobegood

@lululawrence @daggerandrose @homosociallyyours @alwaysxlarrie @thelavendrhaze

@fallinglikethis @kingsofeverything @becomeawendybird @reminiscingintherain @louandhazaf

@thedevilinmybrain @laynefaire @londonfoginacup @ladyaj-13 @jacaranda-bloom

@voulezloux @phdmama @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @parmahamlarrie @crinkle-eyed-boo

@uhoh-but-yeah-alright @absoloutenonsense @all-these-larrythings @beelou @justanothershadeofblue

@galacticlarry @persephoneflouwers @letthemusicmoveyou28 @enchantedlandcoffee @shimmeringevil

@imogenleewriter @lunarheslwt @red-pandaaa @loveislarryislove @hellolovers13

[gucciwins]

Can you please write one where harry and reader, who is apart of the love band, being together and they get married without the media and the fans finding out. So when he is introducing the band he introduces her as mrs. Styles and everyone freaks out?

a/n: hiii friends! it's been a while but I am here to share another story. originally this was supposed to be something short and sweet but here is 9k of a new story I hope you enjoy 💜💜💜

+

Harry had fallen in love with her from the moment he saw her though he can’t say the same for Y/N. He knew it was foolish to call it love when all he knew was her name. He fell in love with how she got lost on stage playing each song. It was something he wanted to never forget. When Jeff told Harry he was going to meet Y/N, he froze and almost decided to leave, but he knew he had to see her and hear her voice because if he didn’t, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

The reason Harry was here tonight at the Roxy was because he was forming his band. He was in the middle of writing an album, and Jeff thought she would be the perfect addition. Harry didn’t know then how meeting Y/N would change his life. Harry loved telling this story to anyone who asked how they first met. It’s one he’s said during the production of his first album endless times and during interviews. 

He walked up to Y/N, smiling, but it dropped when she turned around, and his eyes caught the grin she was giving him. Instead, he dropped her gaze to rest on her collarbones, where a delicate pearl necklace rested. Harry knew he was admiring her necklace, but to everyone else, it looked like he was admiring her chest. Harry only realized when Jeff nudged him. Y/N didn’t say a word, only told Harry it was great to meet him and looked forward to hearing his music. 

“There is no music yet,” he told her honestly. 

“What is there?” She asks, looking at him curiously. 

“Heart and soul,” he confesses. 

“Well, Harry. I look forward to joining you in the studio if that’s alright.”

Harry quickly nods his head. “Tomorrow if you’d like.” 

Y/N shares a look with Jeff, who only shrugs, “if that’s what you’d like.” She’s called away, and Harry knows he will be counting down the minutes until he sees her tomorrow. She leans close to him, and Harry relishes her sweet cherry smell. “Next time you want to stare at my boobs, maybe don’t make it so obvious.” 

Harry pulls away, shocked, at a loss for words, unable to defend himself. 

“See you, Harry.” She sends him a smile that makes him feel warm, and he tries his best to commit it to memory. 

Jeff claps his shoulders, unable to contain his laughter, “man, you’re down bad.”

“I’m in love,” he breathes out. 

“You’re insane. That’s what you are. No way Y/N will ever date you,” Jeff laughs, but Harry is determined. 

Harry shakes his head, “I’ll be sure to remember that at our wedding, where you will not be invited.” 

Safe to say, Harry had to work hard for her love, but he never regretted it. Not one single moment because it led him to be loved by her. 

+

After that studio session, Harry had no shame in asking Y/N to join his team as a writer and guitarist. She told him she’d think about it, and with the fear that her answer would be no, Harry got on his knees and begged her to say yes. She couldn’t even hold in her laugh. “Jeff thought you’d do something like this, but I assured him you’d be professional.” 

Harry laughs awkwardly on his knees, looking up at her. “Is that a yes?” 

Y/N shakes her head at Harry’s antics. “Yes, Styles. I’ll join this team.” Harry gets up and hugs her tightly. “With one request,” she voices. 

“Anything. Absolutely anything.” Harry promised. He would give her the moon or a million dollars if she wanted. 

“Sarah Jones. She has to be brought on as your drummer.” Y/N sighs then, “I don’t know if she’d say yes, but you’d be a fool not to ask.” 

And like that, Harry had three members in his band. 

Mitch would be hired a week later. 

From there, the four of them became the best of friends. While Harry was enraptured around Y/N, trying his best to spend time with her, he missed seeing the sparks fly around Sarah and Mitch. Harry was busy when they arrived from Jamaica, having no time for the band, which broke his heart. He loved seeing them and getting dinner with them but promoting a new album was no joke. 

His new friend Mitch was living in his old flat. Mitch quickly got on with Harry’s friends, but soon enough, even they did not see him. It was then he found out how Mitch was always getting dinner with Sarah, and Y/N would join occasionally. Harry knew he was more than welcome, but with the single releasing soon and tour rehearsal starting, he knew he’d seen her more than enough. 

They had been rehearsing for a few days when Y/N walked into the studio in tears. Harry quickly rushed over to her, leaving Jeff to speak to himself. He looked her over and found her unharmed, but he still took her in his arms, assuring her she was okay. Harry knew it was bad because she didn’t even push him away. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he kept repeating. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was more for him or her. 

Y/N pushed him away after a few minutes. Sarah was beside her, slipping her hand around her waist to support her. “My guitar was stolen,” she mutters. “I-I-I went for coffee in the shop down the street, and when I returned, my window was smashed. They only took the guitar, nothing else,” Y/N cries.

Harry feels his heartbreak for Y/N. During a restless night in Jamaica, she shared how it was her grandfather’s guitar. He gave her lessons from a young age, and her mother hated it because she always had a new cut or callous. It was a big part of her childhood, and when Y/N shared she wanted to pursue music as a career, her grandfather was the first to support her. He gifted her the guitar knowing she would produce magic with it, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N created beautiful melodies for his first album with that guitar, the Fender J Bass American Deluxe. The one her grandfather, played on his wedding day. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he voices, knowing this heartbreak is not something he can heal. Harry immediately sends a message to all the crew and friends in the area to see if they spot her missing guitar or see someone with her guitar case. Harry tells the band they’ll meet tomorrow instead, and she is quick to disagree, stating she can play, but he promises her it’s okay. “Jeff was telling me about this meeting I have to attend.” 

Jeff nods, frowning at Y/N. The band gathers around Y/N, and they’re quick to have her laughing, promising to take her to lunch. 

“Y/N, your car? Is it okay?” Harry asks, knowing it can’t be safe to drive with broken glass. 

“Huh,” she turns to him, confused. “Oh, uh. I drove it here. The backseat is full of glass, and I didn’t even think of anything I needed to fix.”

Harry waves her off, “I know a guy. He can take it to the mechanic. I’ll make sure to have it dropped off at your flat.” 

“Harry, I couldn’t–” 

He cuts her off. “Please, it’s the least I can do.” Harry knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, but if he hadn’t scheduled a band practice, then her guitar wouldn’t have been in her car and therefore stolen. Sarah assures him she’ll get Y/N home. 

Y/N walks out with the band all crowding around her, and Harry knows she’s in safe hands. It doesn’t hurt that he wishes he was the one comforting her, but it’s true he has business to take care of. She just doesn’t know it’s all for her. 

After the hell of the day, she had Y/N went home and cried some more. It was well into the evening when she got a text from Harry that her car would be dropped off soon. She was thankful. He was kind enough to help her. She knows other bosses would be rude and awful, but not in this industry with Harry as her boss. She opens her door to find a young man with a key in one hand and a guitar case in the other. 

“That mine?” She points at it, confused. 

The young fellow shrugs, “you Y/N?” 

She nods silently. 

“Then it’s yours.”

Y/N takes it from him, bidding the man goodnight after checking her car was out front. She hurries inside, curious as to why they also sent a guitar. She opens it up and gasps. In the case is a yellow semi-hollow Epiphone Jack Casad. She told Harry this was a dream guitar she was saving up for during their first studio session. Her name is engraved on the top of the guitar in beautiful handwriting. Y/N is careful to pick it up and is mesmerized by how nice it is. To no surprise, it’s a perfect fit in her hands, as if it was made for he

Y/N

I know there is no replacing the guitar you lost, but I was having this one made for you as a thank you for creating this album with me. I couldn’t have done it without you. Hope we can continue to create music together, and if not, because you’re too talented to stick around with someone like me, I hope you take this gift as an appreciation for my love for you. 

Love, H 

Harry was thinking about her because she knows a guitar takes months to make. Y/N appreciated it more than he knew. Y/N would spend the night playing with the guitar until it felt like hers. When she showed up the next day with the guitar, no one dared to say a word, but between the looks Y/N and Harry shared, they all knew. 

That note would be the first sign that Y/N picked up on that maybe, just maybe, Harry liked her as more than a friend. 

+

The album was well received, and Harry was over the moon. The first shows were nerve-wracking, but having Y/N there calmed him. She gave him pep talks assuring him that the fans would love him, and love him they did. They screamed his songs back to him, and it was easy to get lost in the feeling of being on stage. Before he knew it, they were taking off on a sold-out tour across Europe and North America. 

He had started writing his second album with the help of the team and Y/N. She brought a beautiful melody, and it’s how the start of “Sunflower” kicked off the first song on the track though it would undergo various changes. He loved being in the studio with Y/N because she brought these ideas and perspectives he had never thought of. She was the heart of the album. Touring and writing with Y/N was a dream come true. 

Harry was having the time of his life, but Y/N still paid him no mind. She acted as if there was nothing between them, like there was no spark, which drove him crazy. Harry watched as Mitch and Sarah fell in love, and he wanted that. He craved it with Y/N, with only her. The fact that he couldn’t have her weighed heavy on him, and it got worse when he heard rumors of Y/N going on dates. It broke him because he loved her, and she only saw him as a friend.  They spent every free moment together, so the fact that she didn’t share she was seeing someone hurt because, at the end of the day, he wanted to see her happy. 

He wasn’t proud of what he did next.

There was woman after woman he brought to the show. Harry didn’t know what Y/N thought, but he slowly began to pull away, needing to get lost in someone else; even if it was for an hour, Y/N could consume his thoughts for the other 23 hours. Harry wanted her to want him, to miss him, so he began bailing on lunch with her, not including her in conversations. He thought she didn’t care because she had no response. She treated him the same with a friendly smile and easy conversation. 

Harry didn’t notice the change in her because he was too focused on the new person he was bringing around. If he got his head out of his ass, he would have seen every sad look Y/N shot his way. Or how Sarah urged her to talk to him, but Y/N would walk away. He didn’t see that she was slowly pushing away from not only him but the band. That she thought her days were numbered. 

It wasn’t until she fell sick that Jeff told her that her backup would be able to cover for her for however long she needed. That was all the confirmation she needed to know Harry was replacing her. It broke her, but it was his band, after all. 

Harry was ready to perform, huddled in the circle with the band, when he looked across from him to find unfamiliar eyes. He looked around but saw every member of his band except for her. His heart rate increased, and Harry knew he had lost her. 

Sarah met his gaze and took pity on him, “she’s sick.” 

At that moment, Harry wanted to cancel the show and run to her side, ensuring she was alright, but he couldn’t. He was sure it was the worst show of his life, but he didn’t have time for Jeff or anyone to give him shit for it. When he was off the stage, he drove to their hotel and pounded on her hotel room door. Then suddenly stopped when he realized that wouldn’t help her.

The door creaked open, and there was Y/N with a red nose and sleepy eyes. 

“Hi, petal,” he greets softly, knowing he has to tread carefully. 

She rubbed her eyes as if trying to see if he was actually there. “Harry?” 

“It’s me. Can I come in?” 

Y/N doesn’t respond. She steps back, opening the door wider. She locks it behind him and crawls back into bed. She tells him to stay away because he has a show tomorrow, and he knows she’s right, but he doesn’t care. He sits at the foot of her bed. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I’ve been better.” 

Harry hates this lingering tension. “Sorry, you felt you couldn’t tell me.” 

She shrugs, “Jeff didn’t want to get you sick.” 

“You’ve never gone through, Jeff before,” he reminds her. 

“That was before,” Y/N muttered.

Harry sulks, letting his shoulders drop in frustration. “What you goin’ on about?” 

“The fact that I’m getting sacked,” she tells him, never one to beat around the bush.

“Sorry,” he can’t believe what she is saying. “I would never.”

She scoffs, clearly not believing him. “Don’t have to lie to me. Very convenient that your friend is my replacement tonight. We clearly know I’m replaceable.” 

“Don’t you dare say that,” his voice firm. He had never seen her as replaceable. His heart breaks thinking about doing a tour without her. “You created this band. I wouldn’t be having the time of my life on stage if you weren’t there next to me. You’re my best friend.” 

Y/N has turned away from him, and as much as he hates it, he respects her enough to let her be. “Some way to show it,” she murmurs. 

Harry hates that her voice is so weak and timid around him. She’s never once taken his shit, but here he is on the verge of losing her.  “I-I,” he sighs. “I’ve fucked up badly.” 

“I get that you’re dating and such, but when you start acting like a dick and treating others like they’re beneath you, that’s when you know you’ve lost against the industry.” He lets her words sink in. “I feel like I’ve lost you.”

A direct hit to the heart.

“You did nothing wrong,” Harry assures her. Y/N motions for him to explain. “I was going through shit and felt selfish going to you for help. You’ve seen me through a lot, and I didn’t want to add more,” he lies. Harry is full of lies, but he can’t tell her he loves her. Not like this. “It was easier to get lost around others that don’t care about me.” 

Y/N turns to look at him. Her tired eyes are locked with his, and he knows she’s trying to read him. That he’s an open book for her, he always has been. She won’t find anything at this moment because he knows he has to bury his love for her deep inside if he wants to keep her. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry for icing you out. I’m sorry for not showing you I care. You’re always my number one since the moment you entered my life. I would never dream of kicking you out of your band. I will understand if you want to leave but know you will always have a spot here with me. 

“Well fuck you first,” she tells him outright. “I’m not going anywhere. I just needed you to get your head out of your ass. Though if you ditch me for a groupie, I’ll cut off your dick.” 

Harry shakes his head, not surprised at all by her words. This is his girl. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favorite girl.” 

Those words settle deep in Y/N’s heart. When Harry pulled away from her, Y/N swore she felt a crack in her heart because it was sinking in that she was losing him, but she didn’t understand why it hurt so much to be replaced. 

It wasn’t until later that night after she kicked him out of her room to stay away until she felt better she received a basket of her favorite teas and snacks from home. Even a few books she had been eyeing but had not had the time to buy. It’s when Y/N began to realize that she was in love with him. Though she had no idea how he could feel, she did the only thing she could do. She packed those feelings in a box and moved on.

+

Real World Studio was a dream to work at, and it was even better because he had his friends with him. Harry usually could not keep his eyes off Y/N, but tonight he wished she was anywhere but here. After seeing her on a date last night, he was fuming, and he knew it was dumb to ignore her. It was impossible in the studio. Y/N had her guitar in her lap, and it was this beautiful melody someone could get lost in. Except, he wouldn’t take the time to give it a full listen. 

“H, just give it a listen,” she pleads, knowing her song's potential. 

Harry exhales, “nothing special, it doesn’t fit.” 

Y/N feels her anger rise at his dismissal but decides better than to argue with him. She goes to the corner of the room, dropping her guitar, not wanting the memory of Harry for the moment, and picks up Mitch’s spare. She doesn’t notice when Mitch sits next to her. Too lost in her head, cursing Harry out. 

“Y/N,” she looks up at him. “It’s good.” Having heard the song a few times, Mitch now plays it on his guitar, and Y/N can’t help the smile that takes over her face. Mitch’s talent is undeniable. 

Harry perks up, calling out Mitch’s name to play that song again. “Come on, Mitch, again.” 

Mitch grimaces, “H, it’s—”

“Again,” Harry requests.

Mitch does as he asks but only gets a few notes in when Y/N stomps over to him. She pushes him hard, causing him to stumble. The entire room falls silent. Harry feigns confusion, not knowing what he did wrong.

“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch,” she spits angrily. Y/N walks out of the studio with her head held, and Harry deflates, knowing he went too far. 

“Man, what’s up with you? That’s—you have never treated any of us like that,” Sammy tells him, confused. 

Harry throws his notebook across the room in frustration, “Y/N has a fucking boyfriend and hasn’t told me. Saw her having dinner last night.” 

Mitch scoffs, “so that gives you permission to be a dick.” 

Sammy laughs, Harry whips his head to look at him and is about to tell him to shut up when Sammy drops a bomb on him. “I went to dinner with her last night.” Harry feels his anger bubble. “I have this friend that wants to work with her.”

Harry backs down, shoulders slumping, “I’m a dick,” he agrees. 

“Think you should go find her,” 

“And say what?” He looks at them for answers. 

“Sorry, is a good start,” Tyler offers. 

Mitch shakes his head, “he can never admit he’s sorry or that he’s the jealous type.” 

Harry walks out knowing they aren’t any help but knows he does have to apologize. Y/N doesn’t deserve how he treated her. The good thing Y/N didn’t go far; she’s sitting on the hood of her car staring at the night sky. 

“Y/N,” he calls out to not startle her. 

“Thought you’d come out sooner,” she sasses. 

He exhales, “The boys were chewing me out.” 

“Hmm…” 

Harry stands before her, and regret is written all over his face. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I was an asshole for my own stupid reasons.” 

“Okay,” she mutters.

He takes a step closer, his hands resting on her thighs. “I’m just a jealous son of a bitch and took it out on you. I’m sorry, you’re my favorite person, and that’s no excuse for treating you this way.” 

She smirked, hearing him repeat her earlier words she screamed in the heat of her anger. “I put up with a lot of your crap.” 

“And I’m grateful,” he promises her. 

“Maybe too much,” she teases. 

Harry knows she’s right. “Then don’t anymore.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine,” he repeats. 

“Leave then,” she waves him off, and something inside him snaps. Her words don’t hold malice, and he’s not leaving without her. They both know that. 

He steps between her legs, not giving her any room to escape him. Y/N looks at him with wide eyes, uncertain of his next move. Harry pushes a few strands of her hair back. His eyes fall down to her lips and then move back up. Before he can convince himself otherwise, Harry leans in, pressing his lips against Y/N’s. He feels her tense up, but she melts into him within the next few seconds. He leads the kiss in a steady rhythm allowing himself to get to know what she likes. It feels like coming home, and he wonders how he went so long without tasting her. He knows one will never be enough; he wants more. Harry wants all her kisses. 

Y/N pulls away breathless, one look at her face, and Harry knows she’s panicking. It’s settling in quick, but Harry has always been able to calm her, a special trick he’s learned for years of knowing her. His take will be slightly different tonight.

“Y/N I l–” Y/N stops him. 

“Please,” she pleads. Begging him not to say it. Harry sighs, taking a step back.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promises. 

Harry walks her back to the hotel for the night with the promise of breakfast together. He hopes breakfast happens, but part of him knows it won’t happen. The following day he was informed she had checked out. All that was left was a note saying she was sorry and that she would call him soon. That same night he was on a flight to Japan. 

After all, there’s an album to finish. 

+

Two weeks in Japan weren’t enough to heal his heartbreak, but it was the perfect place to meet friends, try good food, and write new songs. He had written five new ones, and though he knew some might not make it to the album now, maybe they would for the next one. 

His birthday had come along, and he spent it alone reading in a cafe. Harry got endless texts from his family wishing him a happy day, but there was one person he hoped would call. Except that she didn’t. Everyone told him to move on, but he wanted to grieve this love because Y/N wasn’t just anybody to him. She was the one. He’s willing to fight for her because he knows what it’s like to live without her and hates it. Harry misses her, but he’s also hurt. 

It was early morning when there was a loud knock on his door. He stumbled out of bed in no rush to open his door. After a surprise party last night, he allowed himself to have one too many shots and now is paying the price for it. Y/N always reminded him to have some water and a Tylenol before bed on nights they went drinking.

Harry swung his door open, expecting to see Tom or Tyler but standing in front of him was Y/N. A timid smile was on her face, a large duffel hanging off her shoulder and a gift bag in her hand. 

“Hi, Harry,” she broke the silence after a few seconds (minutes, he couldn’t be sure.) “I-I’m sorry to show up announced. Uh–Gems convinced me it would be a good idea.” 

He has no idea why he’s here, and he can’t even ask her why she’s here because it seems he has lost the ability to speak. He never imagined her coming to Japan for him.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for stopping you from saying something you probably have held in for a long time.” She pauses, looking around her, nervous someone could overhear her. That’s when Harry realizes they’re standing at his doorway.

Wordlessly he moves aside to let her in. Harry locks the door behind her as she drops her bag and presents by the door. Y/N takes her time slipping off her shoes. He can spot her hands shaking but doesn’t dare comment on it. 

“Harry,” she says his name with so much love it gives him a glimmer of hope. “I love you,” she shouts. 

Harry was not prepared for her confession. He wasn’t prepared for her. “And I think you love me?” She questions. 

Harry doesn’t answer. 

Y/N looks around the room nervously. This is not how she pictured the moment on the flight here. Sure, she wasn’t expecting the warmest greeting, but she also didn’t expect silence. Y/N was not sure how to go from here. Before she can begin to think about how bad of an idea this is, Harry takes a step forward; she doesn’t dare move away. He stops until there is no space between them. 

There are two things he could tell her: one would make her the happiest person alive, and the other has the possibility of breaking her. Except, there’s a third option she wasn’t thinking about because Harry was never good with his words. He always thought actions speak louder than words, so he leaned in and kissed her. This kiss was soft and full of love, nothing like their first kiss. Harry was gentle with her, like if he was rougher, she’d break or disappear. Y/N lets herself fall into Harry as he explores her mouth, their mouths moving in perfect unison until he breaks away, giving her a chance to catch her breath. Even then, he doesn’t move far away; he kisses every inch of her face until Y/N breaks into a fit of laughter due to the brush of his stubble on her skin, something he was letting grow during his time here. 

“I love you,” Harry tells her. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, but it doesn’t feel like the first time, not when he’s loved her for years. “I have loved you from the very first day.” 

Y/N slaps his shoulder playfully, “shut up, Harry.” She doesn’t believe him. Why would she? Y/N was a stranger, but the first time he saw her, Harry felt like he had arrived home. He was united with someone who had been missing from him all his life. 

“Will never shut up,” Harry promises. “Not when I get to tell you I love you every day, every hour, every minute.” 

“I’m sorry for the wait,” she holds his face in her hands, taking in his beautiful green eyes staring at her with so much love that she feels she might explode.

“You will always be worth the wait. Always, Y/N.”

+

December 13th had finally arrived. 

“Are you really doing this?” Harry asks nervously on the chair next to her. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I told you I would.” 

“Tattoos are forever,” he reminds her. 

Mateo, her tattoo artist, places the stencil on her ribs as Harry checks in for the tenth time to see if she really wants to be tattooed. “The cherries on my ass are a good reminder I know what I’m doing.”

Harry sinks back in his chair, defeated. “It’s just this is permanent. These are my lyrics going into your skin forever.” 

“Oi, give me some credit, would you? Worked on these songs with you. This one is special. I want it with me forever,” Y/N vows.

Today, his second album Fine Line was released for the world to hear. Every time he released music, he gave a bit of himself away from Lights up to Cherry; these were his stories on love, identity, and heartbreak.  Harry knows he didn’t do it alone, but his fans don’t care for the process; they want the stories and meanings of each song. He won’t give them that, not now, not ever. Y/N, his guitar player and now also his girlfriend, was getting a tattoo in honor of the second album they have written together being released. 

“I thought you’d get a sunflower tattooed or even a watermelon,” he smirks at the last suggestion. 

Y/N scoffs, “you dirty-minded lover.” 

“You love it,” he tells her.

She does. She really does. “Doesn’t matter. I love you. I want to know that no matter what, we’ll be alright. I would go through hell and back for you, so what better way than to get those words that mean so much to me.” 

Harry knows there’s no chance she’s leaving without the tattoo, so he relents letting Mateo begin. “I love you.” And that’s enough for now. It seems he will have to get a new tattoo for her seeing as she’d have his handwriting etched in her skin forever. 

He was going crazy and set to go on stage in twenty minutes, yet no one could find Y/N. Harry had called her again and again, yet no answer. He knew she hadn’t left the venue, but somehow everyone on staff could not find her. It wasn’t until he found Y/N in a small green room sitting with his special guest of the night, Stevie Nicks. They were lost in conversation and didn’t even hear him come in. 

“Y/N,” he breathed out, relieved. He shoots a text to Jeff that he found her. 

Y/N grins up at him, and simple as that, all his worry evaporates. “Hi, pretty.” 

To no surprise, Harry’s face heats up at the compliment. “Poppet went crazy searching for you.”

Stevie stands up, “oh, that’s my fault. I just had to steal her away. It’s been some time since we’ve been able to catch up. Nice to know you took my advice.” 

“Actually, Stevie–” Y/N begins, but Harry interrupts her. 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We’ve got to get Y/N ready to stage soon.” Harry pushes her towards the door. 

Y/N makes a show of rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically. “Bye, Stevie, always an honor.” 

Harry promises Stevie to see her soon, all while Y/N mutters how she can’t believe he embarrassed her in front of Stevie Nicks. He knows she’s joking but never makes anything easy for him. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm…”

“I love you,” and like magic, she melts into him, allowing him to take her towards his dressing room as he grabs her in-ears and prepares her to head out on stage. 

“Love you, Harry. Proud of you. It’s your big day.” She’s been telling him all week, from listening parties to the Spotify event to last night at 9pm when the album dropped on the West Coast to this very moment. 

“Our, our special day,” he reminds her.

Y/N waves him off, “your album. I’m just the guitar player.”

Harry won’t have that. He approaches Y/N, gently lifting her face to look at him. She’s staring at him with those glimmering eyes full of love. “You’re the muse of this album, but you’re also the co-writer. You play a killer solo in She that Mitch is begging for you to let him play. This album is ours, but it is also entirely yours. I am entirely yours.” 

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “Ours,” she repeats. 

It ends up being a perfect night. A show they’ll go on to share with friends, family, and future generations for years to come. 

+

Gearing up for tour after a successful album had everyone buzzing, except everything came to a halt because of a pandemic affecting the entire world. Everyone was taking the needed precautions to keep the safety of others in mind. Harry and Y/N decided to stay with Mitch and Sarah because it was better to be with others during this challenging time.

As awful as everything was in the world, Harry was grateful for the time to flourish his relationship with Y/N. 

It gave them a chance to fall more in love with each other. He learned all her childhood stories, and she learned that he was an early riser and liked his coffee dark. They used this time to write an album full of love, longing, and heartbreak. It was their love story in the strangest of ways. He knew the album might not be well received, but he loved it. Most importantly, Y/N loved it, and that’s all that mattered. 

They stayed in California with friends for nearly a year until it was safe to fly home. It was then that they knew they would have to split a way to stay with family. Harry was not ready to let her go, not when he had her for all this time. Instead, he followed along to where she called home. Her baby sister was overjoyed to have Y/N home. Lila got to show Y/N all the knitting supplies she had gotten. Even all the plushies she made Y/N because they reminded Lila of her. (The bunny was his favorite, he got to keep it because he asked nicely.) Harry would never forget meeting Lila for the first time, seven years old, and worshiping the ground Y/N walked on. He understood the feeling very well. Y/N had brought her along for a rehearsal and, by the end of the day, had a meltdown because Harry mentioned them leaving for months. Lila begged Y/N not to go, to quit saying that she’d be able to take care of her if she stayed. Harry saw Y/N’s heartbreak and was tempted to step in, but he knew it wasn’t his place. 

“I hate you,” the young girl whispered when Y/N rushed off to get tissues. His heart broke knowing he was the reason she was hurting so much. “Fire her, fire my sister,” she pleaded.

Y/N returned with sympathy in her eyes, and Harry knew nothing he could say would make her feel better. “Poppet, you know those are harsh words. We don’t say them unless we mean them.”

“I do. I mean it,” Lila sniffled.

Y/N shook her head, wiping her younger sister’s tears away. “No, you don’t. You know how I know?” Lila shook her head. “Because you’ve got the biggest heart in the entire world. I know there is no way you can hold any darkness in there.” 

Lila wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck, and Harry knows he should leave and give them space, but he’s in awe at how well Y/N is validating her sister’s feelings. There’s no telling her to stop crying, only trying to make her understand. 

“I’m leaving, poppet. It’s my dream,” Y/N whispered. “I told you stories about being on stage that it’s my second favorite thing to do.” 

“First is painting with me?” Lila questions.

Y/N laughs, “you know it.” 

“Okay,” Lila hides her face in Y/N’s neck. “I love you.” 

Y/N kissed her sister’s cheek. “I love you too.” They squeeze each other tight, relishing in being together. “Now I think you owe someone an apology.” 

Lila sighed but did as Y/N requested. She walked towards Harry with Y/N standing behind her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Styles. You have to promise to care for her. She loves tea in the morning with lemon poppy muffins.” Lila shares making Harry and Y/N laugh. He keeps a mental note to make sure it’s always available for her during tours and meetings.

Harry kneels down to be at Lila’s level, knowing it will make them at an even level. “I promise to look after her. If you ever need her home, all you have to do is call, and I’ll have her on the first flight back to you.” 

Lila's eyes widen in surprise, “you can do that?” 

“I’m the boss,” he whispers. 

Y/N rolls her eyes at him, but mouths thank you. 

Harry kept true to his word, there was only one time when Lila called, and that’s all Y/N needed to say for him to assure her that it was okay to go. He went as far as buying her a first-class plane ticket. Lila fell, broke her arm, and needed her sister home. She was gone for five days, the longest days of his life, but when she returned, Y/N gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. It’s something he will never forget. 

Now at twelve years old, Lila “tolerated” Harry. Y/N told him Lila was joking, but a part of him knew it was true he had taken her favorite person away. Harry knew he’d be heartbroken having Y/N leave him and hated that he made Lila experience that time and time again. 

“You break her heart, Harry, and I break you,” she threatened with her fist in the air.

“Woah, there, Rambo. No need to defend my honor,” Y/N giggled. “Just because you’re doing kickboxing classes doesn’t mean you need to go punching anyone.” 

“I will if he makes you cry,” Lila tells her while keeping her eyes on Harry.

He found this amazing because Harry was the younger sibling. He knew what it was like wanting to defend his older sister, not that she ever let him. He knew Gemma didn’t need protecting. “If anyone will do any crying, it’s Harry,” Y/N tells her sister. Y/N winks at him before turning her attention back to Lila. “He cries at The Lion King.”

“He does?” Lila says in disbelief. 

Harry scoffs playfully, “that was a secret.” 

Lila steps forward and taps his hand twice in what he assumes is her way of showing sympathy. “There, there. I understand. Scar is the worst villain. Let’s watch it now.” 

She pulls him away as Y/N mouths for him to remember to cry. Harry knew Y/N wanted her favorite people to get along, and if he had to cry during Mufasa’s death to get on a young girl’s good side, then so be it. Harry knows he would do anything for Y/N.

After a few months with Y/N’s family, they traveled to his family. When his mum saw him, she burst into tears and did not let him go for over ten minutes. Y/N got reacquainted with the cats then it was her turn for a long cuddle. His mother was in good hands, but returning home always made him realize how much he has missed. 

“Gems has gotten into a puzzle,” Anne shares as she serves them.

Harry laughs, “not surprised.” 

“H got really good at poker,” Y/N chimes in.” 

“And you miss paint by number,” he teases. 

Anne smiled fondly, seeing them tease each other as she took in the love clearly displayed on his face. “I can’t believe you’ve filmed movies.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “oh, Anne, he’s such a drama queen. Oh, that’s not what I ordered. It was a green smoothie, not pink,” Y/N mimics his accent awfully, making Anne burst out laughing. 

“Mum, you’re supposed to be on my side.” 

Anne shrugs, “she’s always been my favorite.” 

Y/N sticks her tongue at him, happy to return to conversing with Anne. Harry knew his mum was right; she had always been his favorite too.

+

With filming complete and the world a bit safer. It was time to get back on the road. Harry had a completed album that he was not ready to share yet. He wanted to enjoy singing songs from Fine Line before adding more to his setlist. Prepping for this tour, there were many new changes. For one, he hired Pauli Lovegood as his musical director, and the band had never sounded better. 

Harry was not surprised to see how well Pauli and Y/N got on. They were two people who instantly clicked when first meeting. Harry had many conversations with Pauli about the band and the chemistry and trust he liked to have on stage. Pauli stated that Y/N was the heart of the band and didn’t even realize it. Harry knew every time he got on stage because she kept him calm and safe each night. Sure, everyone raved about Sarah calling it Sarah’s band, and he didn’t doubt it for a second, but there was a special energy Y/N brought that no one was able to replicate. 

“Y/N goes out on stage every night like it might be her last,” Pauli shared after a rehearsal. They just didn’t realize Y/N was behind him listening.

“Is that a bad thing?” Y/N asks.

Pauli shakes their head. “Not at all. It makes your performance special.” He points back to the stage. “Because that was sound check. You played as if the crowd was already here.”

Y/N ducks her head, flustered, not realizing that Pauli was complimenting her. 

“Does that mean he won't ever fire me?” Y/N laughs, knowing it’s a dumb question.

Harry swings his hand over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “I’d be an idiot to let you go. You know the only reason you’ll leave this job is if you decide that.” 

His words are true. Y/N has had many opportunities and offers to join another band or become a songwriter working with different artists, but it’s not what she wants.

During the tour, Y/N and Harry celebrate two years of dating. It’s a significant milestone for both of them because they had always had a slight fear of commitment, but together forever doesn’t seem long enough. It’s a cold day in November for Los Angeles, but Y/N doesn’t seem to mind since she dragged Harry to Malibu beach with her. 

They held hands as they walked down the shore, seagulls flying high and the beach vacant. No one is brave enough to visit the ocean during this cold season. Y/N had told him that water calms her; it reminds her there is so much more to life, and though she might never have the chance to learn about it, the world keeps turning.

“We’re almost going home,” Harry comments.

Home is London, in her small flat, while Harry goes to his large mansion. There are small details they have to work through, seeing as during this entire tour, they have never slept apart, even when Harry manages to push her buttons. 

“I’m excited to see Lila,” Y/N tells Harry. She talked to her sister as much as possible, but time zones made it difficult. “She’s grown two more inches, mum said.” 

Harry kisses her temple, there is so much they sacrifice for the life they live, but he wouldn’t change it for the world because it led him to Y/N. 

“Soon, you’ll see her soon,” he promises. Little does she know that in a few days, time in New York, Y/N will be hugging her sister, and Harry will happily share her because nothing makes him happier than seeing her happy. “I love you, Y/N.” 

Y/N nudges his shoulder playfully, “alright, you sap. I love you too. Come on, I'm getting hungry.” 

Harry stops walking. She doesn't notice until he has let go of her hand. She looks back at him confused but finds him kneeling on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. Y/N doesn’t give him a chance to open it when she’s jumping on him, knocking him back into the sand. She’s crying against his chest, whispering yes over and over again. 

He laughs, “I haven’t even asked, love.”

She sniffles, “what are you waiting for?” 

Harry sits up, but Y/N doesn’t move from her place on his lap, sandy ring box back in his hand. He knows her answer, but his nerves are back, making his hands shake. Y/N notices and grabs his hands, pulling them to her chest. “Y/N, meeting you in 2015, I knew you were special. From our first conversation, I knew I could fall in love with you, and fall I did. It seems I’m still falling even now. You’re the reason the sun rises every morning and why the moon shines bright at night. You’re the reason why I wake up with a smile every day. You make the hard times bearable and the good times memorable. Y/N Y/LN, will you do me the biggest honor and marry me?” 

Y/N has endless tears running down her face, but her smile is bright. “Yes, Harry. I will marry you. Forever with you is all I want.” 

Harry leans in and kisses his fiancé. 

His fiancé.

Y/N is his fiancé. 

Anthony and a few friends gather somewhere in the distance, taking photos and videos for them. Y/N lets herself get lost in the feeling of his lips against hers. It’s slow and passionate. They are pouring every ounce of love into each other. This is the start of forever. 

“We’re getting married,” she laughs against his lips. 

“We are. Today, tomorrow, in a month, a year. Whenever you want, I will marry you,” Harry promises her. He hopes it’s sooner rather than later. 

“Let’s go home. I want to celebrate.” 

Their family could wait on the news. Tonight was all theirs. 

+

On April 29th, 2022, Harry married the love of his life in a private villa in Italy with their closest friends and family. It was the perfect day, the sun shining bright, and the Amalfi ocean gave them a wonderful breeze. 

“Today’s the day,” he whispered as Y/N sat in his lap out on the balcony of their room. Everyone told them it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding, but Y/N didn’t believe in superstitions, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to say goodnight to her after their rehearsal dinner. 

Y/N sighs, leaning back into him. “Feels like I’ve been waiting for you all my life.” 

Harry laughs, “I think I did all the waiting.” From the start, he always thought she’d never see him as anything more, but he is hours away from making her his wife. 

“Mhm…you’re right. Sorry for the wait.” 

Harry kisses her exposed shoulder. “I’d wait forever for you, my heart.” 

Y/N turns, taking in his expressions. Glimmering eyes and a shining smile, he was about to become her husband. “Let’s go get married, Mr. Styles.” 

“After you, Mrs. Styles.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Styles, it was music to his ears. 

After getting married with Sarah as their officiant, and Lila as their flower girl, they had a beautiful reception. There were speeches from Jeff quoting that Harry knew he would marry Y/N from the minute he set eyes on her to Y/N’s mum, Roslyn entrusting Harry to make her little girl happy for the rest of their life. Even Lila got up to the microphone making Harry promise to share Y/N with her still because she was her’s first. Harry assured the young girl he'd do anything Lila asked of him if it made Y/N happy. It was the most beautiful day, one he would never forget. 

They went on a month-long honeymoon and returned blissfully happy, ready to perform to thousands of people each night. 

The tour began in Glasgow. A sold-out stadium all for him. Harry was ready to share the stage with his wife and best friends. He was prepared to go out and have the time of his life with his fans, but he could not stop crying. Y/N tried her best to comfort him and was doing well, but she was buzzing, wanting to take it all in. He had done this many years ago with four other boys, his brothers. Harry was okay never doing anything at that level again, but here he was about to play his first stadium of many in Europe. 

“Y/N does not want to leave the stage,” Luis rushes in, exhausted, knowing it’s a bit of a walk from the dressing room to the stage. 

Harry laughs, shaking his head. She told him she loved the stage and didn’t want to be elsewhere. He didn’t really believe her, but Y/N kept true to her words. 

“Let’s go get her.” 

It turns out Harry had to carry her out. He threw her over his shoulder as she screamed to let her stay. They knew it wasn’t possible with fans about to be let in and the opener set to perform in a few hours. Harry was happy to share these moments with her. 

They were preparing for their third sold-out night in Wembley, and Harry was happy because he and Y/N had many friends and family coming out to support them. Harry knows that through the years, the audience has come to love his band, also known as the “Love Band,” while Mitch and Sarah were crowd favorites, and Pauli’s dance move always had the fans screaming it was Y/N who managed to steal everyone’s hearts. She didn’t have to try hard. Y/N had that charm about her, from smiling at fans who locked eyes with her to signs made for her to pose for a fan's camera and especially when she handed out guitar picks at the end of the night. Y/N loved walking down the side to reach the middle, and Harry got to see how each interaction she had with a fan only made her shine brighter. 

Today was different; Y/N and Harry sang together during soundcheck. Lila was there and begged for Y/N to sing, then two sisters with similar pouts stared at him, begging him to say yes. There was no telling them no, and Harry sang Sweet Creature with his wife to a young girl who could not stop smiling. Harry was thankful to have Anthony here capturing everything because he knew he wanted to remember this for years to come. 

“I’m pretty sure fans heard us,” Y/N tells him as she plays with her ears.

Harry shrugs, “they’ve never heard you sing before.” 

“Heyy,” she frowns. “Be nice to your wife.” 

He smirks. He will never get tired of hearing that. “My dear wife, I apologize for hurting your feelings. Will you forgive me?”

She taps her lips twice, “kiss?” 

He leans in, happy to comply with her wishes. She hums against his lips. Harry is tempted to take it farther but knows there is no time for that now.

“Love you, Y/N. Thank you for sharing the stage with me,” he whispers, feeling overwhelmed. 

Y/N grins, “thanks for paying me the big bucks to be here,” she teases. 

Harry groans, giving her a loving tap on her butt. “You’re a menace.” 

“Yeah, but you love me,” she sing-songs.

“I do. I always will.” 

He doesn’t know where life will take him and Y/N, but he knows it will all be alright as long as they are together. 

+

A year ago, he played at Wembley stadium and was freshly married. Now he has celebrated his first anniversary and was back to play four sold-out nights. Harry’s House is out to the world and has received so much love from fans to the Grammys. He remembers winning album of the year, the most prestigious award of the night, and how tempted, he was to kiss Y/N there because this album is a love letter to each other. The new album gifted him so much, but there will be nothing better to Harry than sharing the stage with Y/N as he sings songs they wrote together. 

“Wembley, the last time I was here wasn’t long ago, but things have changed in my life.” A dramatic pause. “For the better,” he assures the audience. “Thank you for having me back. Now let’s dance.” 

The night moves on with Harry coming to bother Y/N more than ever, but she doesn’t mind. She gives it right back before sending him off to bother Mitch, who stays stoic, not letting Harry’s antics bother him. “Now, Wembley, you have been the most amazing crowd tonight.” The screams get louder as they listen to him talk. “But I couldn’t have done this alone.”

Harry introduces the band, going through everyone, purposely skipping Y/N. The band looked around, confused, but Y/N did not take her eyes off Harry, who was stepping closer to her. “Now you all know and love her, give it up for Y/N Styles!” Harry kneels down on a knee gesturing to Y/N. 

Y/N smirks as the crowd falls silent, taking in the confession Harry dropped on them. The cameras pan over to her, and she gives a wave with her right hand, her left stays resting on her guitar where she’s sure the fans can see the engagement ring and wedding ring resting on her fourth finger, no longer on a chain around her neck but on display for everyone to see. Harry talked to her about the plan earlier in the day and decided to wear it to show it off.

After a moment, the fans seemed to have processed his words and began to scream and cheer. It’s louder and overwhelming, but Y/N takes it in stride as Harry laughs, looking out at the crowd. Harry brings his microphone up to speak, but the screams get even louder. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief, unable to understand if it’s excitement or shock.

“Sorry,” Harry giggles into the microphone. “I know her as Y/N Styles. Give it up for Y/N Y/LN. But please address her as Y/N Styles. The paperwork was endless,” he jokes to the audience of 90,000. 

Sarah gives Y/N a crazed look, but Y/N shrugs. It was bound to come out, but she was glad they had the power to choose how and when. No better place than on stage doing what they both love. 

“Alright, alright,” Harry begins trying to settle the cheers, but they are not stopping. It’s been going on for minutes, and Y/N’s just taking it all in, loving the support they are receiving. “Thought you came here for me,” he tries. 

Y/N laughs into her microphone, making Harry look at her with a fake pout. “Oh, enjoy this, Y/N. You’re fired.” 

She rolls her eyes, knowing he’s joking. The entire band knows he wouldn’t dream of doing this every night without her.

“Do you want a song?” Harry asks his crazed fans. 

“Together?” Y/N asks into the microphone. The fans have no idea how to react anymore. This show will be going down in history; that’s all Y/N knows.

She steps close to Harry, who welcomes her in a hug, careful with her guitar.

“Which one, love?” Harry inquires, even though he already knows the song she will pick.

Y/N flashes him a pearled smile, “love of my life.” 

Harry looks out at the audience and then turns back to Y/N. He takes her ring hand and kisses her wedding band. “Seems only fitting.” 

+

liked by mitchrowland, harrystyles, and 233,804 others

pillowpersonpp she’s a rockstar and a wife 

view all 641 comments

yourinstagram I LOVE YOU! Thank you for marrying us 

pillowpersonpp its the least i could do since you're the reason i met my husband 

harryfan1 pause…i did not know this

harryfan2 i would marry her too 

mitchrowland the best guitarist!

harryfan3 I love her friendship with y/n

liked by yelyahwilliams, harrystyles and 4,534,266 others

yourinstagram officially the better styles 

view all 34,554 comments

annetwist a wonderful addition to the family

gemmastyles you know what…you’re absolutely right. 

_basselin oh my friend! Lovely photos 💗

fan1 wedding photos dropping! pray for me

fan2 the most beautiful couple congrats 

fan3 rockstar marries rockstar

harryfan I really thought he was never going to marry 😭

liked by anthonypham, harrystyles, and 322,456 others

lloyddddddddddddddddd the (not so) newley weds 🤍

view all 344 comments 

annetwist I have these framed at home 

anthonypham had the absolute joy of capturing our friends wedding with you

yourinstagram forever grateful! h and i love you boys

yourinstagram 🫶

harrystyles thank you for capturing our special day 

jefezoff they really spent the entire day in their own bubble 

fan1 STOPPPPPP he shot the wedding! Oh i'm so jealous

liked by niallhoran, shaniatwain, and 9,672,655 others

harrystyles every moment on stage is special when i get to share it with you, my heart

view all 43,667 comments

glenne_azoff the prettiest girl!

yourinstgram i love you! thanks for falling in love with me back in 2015, baby

harrystyles thank you for joining my band in 2015

paulithepsm y/n the heart of the band 

jefezoff I'll take credit for introducing you to y/n by you naming your first born after me

harrystyles fuck off

liked by fan1, fan2, and 42,333 others

lovebandupdates HARRY AND Y/N SINGING LOML AT WEMBLEY AFTER ANNOUNCING THEIR MARRIAGE

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fan1 all i can do is cry 

fan2 it really is the love band *cries*

fan3 how long do we think he’s been married 

fan4 I was there tonight 😭😭😭 harry is so in love

fan1 spill babes spill

fan4 okay so they sing right and it's the most perfect duet. y/n has a perfect voice that fits harry's perfectly. the song finishes and harry holds her in an embrace for a long time. they come back out and harry has a new ring on his left hand but he basically spends the last of the show kissing her cheek and dancing with her. harry is so in and y/n looks at him with so much love in her eyes. a perfect match

fan3 why you got to say all that. 🥺😭 I am never recovering from this

[immoralimmortals]

I READ THEM TAGS OFFER EM UP MY LEIGE I NEED MARRIAGE HEADCANONS FOR THE AKATSUKI

You water my crops and put the stars in the sky. I'm madly in love with you. I'm bringing this post to your feet much like a cat does their favorite toy. I have caught it. Be proud of me, mother.

Even if it's less about the whole life of being married and more about the actual act of marrying, hope that's ok!

Akatsuki Marriage Headcanons, for real this time:

Pain:

I am a huge proponent of the popular fanon opinion that if this man takes you so seriously as to express a label for it (love, spouse, etc.), he is at the brink of worshiping your feet. Don't get me wrong, in terms of the arrangement of proposal and marriage ceremony, the leader is still in charge; however, he is dictating with every detail painstakingly about you. If there is decor, it is your favorite color. If you expressed you like a certain gemstone, he tracks it down for proposal and gets the finest cut upon your finger. You don't want an actual wedding? No problem, you're just going to come home to several thousand lit candles and a profession of commitment as deep from his heart as a corpse is in the grave.

The idea is that it is necessary for this bond to be formalized, at least for his own sake. Pain would refer to it as something you need to hear. If he is nothing else, he is serious about whatever he experiences emotionally; that goes for both his immense suffering and his most delicate of joys. He declares you his, neigh: commands...but only after you assure him yes.

If a traditional proposal is done, it must be in private. He dares not be too exposed. It's already so much that he has become vulnerable to you.

It is a hard privilege to earn. And so, the Akatsuki leader pays you back in kind. As long as you both shall live, you are his deity. You will never want, not as long as he is allowed to bask in you.

Pain kisses you firmly, one hand on your wrist and one on your back. You are to feel both his presence and his commitment.

A wedding song for you: Take me to Church by Hozier (yes I am a sucker for this song, yes yes and yes) or Ship in a Bottle by fin

Konan:

All at once, her heart aches in the best and worst ways, as it is such a curse of the Akatsuki to have had their loves taken too soon. Up till this point, she has been passive, letting you lead the relationship, but now- despite how much she yearns for the same- the angel stands her ground.

"Why?" you ask her in retaliation. She's thin-lipped as she refuses the real answer. It takes a couple tries over a few, staggered moments in private for the truth to tumble out:

She does not want another person she loves to die because of her. It's irrational; your death is not predetermined by the commitment. And yet it remains. She is scared, and the closer you get the more she stings.

But you have to press closer. You have to assure, promise, fight your way back into her heart as it tries to close you out in self protection. You succeed, thanks to one of the reasons you adore Konan: her capacity to hope, no matter the circumstance. Reminder her of that, and she can only be yours.

The wedding is small, the two of you and whomever you deem precious enough to witness. (I imagine probably not even a full handful). It is twilight and the color of the world is shaded blue. Blue as her hair, blue as she feels whenever you're away, blue in the same way the purest of whites are to the human eye. You are pristine. The paper that folds the bouquets that drape around you are spotless and glow in the moonlight in such a way they're almost lanterns. Their starkly pale and crisply folded nature surround as if it is her prayer that everything that is good may stay that way.

Konan kisses you in such a way that no part of you but your lips touch one another. It is chaste, it is soft, it is a seal.

A wedding song for you: Saturn by Sleeping at Last (I cry every single time I hear this in full. I sincerely think there are few songs that have so viscerally touched me like this one has.) or Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie

Obito:

You cannot get his single-mindedness off of Rin. There is no way around it, and anything meant as distraction will not only fail but backfire on you. Therefore, if you are this deep into a partnership, you are there not in spite of her but thanks to her. You will be compared and contrasted to no end; this is not cruel, it is merely how he shapes his worldview in regards to goodness and love. You are his second chance. You are his solitude.

You don't get opportunity to propose. He will tell you first.

It is every definition of a ceremony, almost ritualistic, almost like they're crowning a king/queen. The ceilings are tall and decorated with the visage of ancestors and gods. Incense is lit and the setting sun sets the room on fire with orange and red. You are presented to him, ornate in the way he demands. A masked face cannot hide the lust and satisfaction in his voice. His hand reaches out, and you take it. For perhaps the first time, the mask is tilted to hide from their audience while still showing his scarred face to you.

His kiss is hard. Not sloppy, but hard. His hand is on the back of your head, and he going to press you into him until your soul enters his body.

A wedding song for you: Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake or Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie

Bad relationship songs because I can't control myself: Anybody Else by Dom Fera (THE song of all time for me, I love it) or Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Zetsu:

Marriage? That's a fascinating concept. He's never had the desire for this kind of relationship before, but as you talk more and more of it, the more he grasps. In the end, it is a concept that matters to you, and he can appreciate the sentiment of it.

The weirdest part, honestly, is that you reserved such a thing for him.

Though he follows along (you must guide the entire arrangement), he quietly, curiously doubts the whole time. But your guiding hand is so soft as you take him and lead, so nice onto his skin as you select two rings and slide one on each color of hand. You make no mistake: it is both you are marrying. It is both you are committing to. That recognition is his first step into a hesitant acceptance of your eternal love.

When the time comes, you walk him to the first place you met, beside a large tree in a clearing with no human settlement in sight. None of the "don't see the bride/groom" tradition, it has no room here. Any amount of people you want are there, regardless of if it is everyone or no one. (He would prefer no one, but this is all for you, after all). As you're about to kiss him, he makes one request. It is the only thing Zetsu has asked for in all of this time:

Let him taste you.

How can you tell him no?

So his bi-colored lips part, taking your bottom lip into his first, and then rounded teeth gently drag the flesh into his mouth. Pressure is applied and you taste your blood, though fleetingly as he drinks it in. In all the time you've known him, this is the closest Zetsu has ever been to you. In this symbolic action, you have finally gained his full and complete trust.

Zetsu's kiss is metallic but it is not cold. It is pensive, meditative, doing his best to understand that which you crave, and so he does his best to crave you. He cups your face in both of his ringed hands so he need not focus on anything but your taste.

A wedding song for you: & by Tally Hall or Yes to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood

Hidan:

At first he's going to make fun of you. He's going to tell you that this is the dumbest idea he's ever heard. And when you go quiet and don't bring it up again, he is going to pin you down and demand to be told why you changed your mind.

This man wants you so much, he can't fathom it. What is marriage if you must slaughter your neighbor? Well...a lover is a step above neighbor, isn't it?

Thank Jashin he doesn't need to kill you to get married.

If you do a traditional wedding, he will drag his feet but he will do it. It's to your detriment alone, really, how obnoxious he'd be. If you pin a flower to his lapel, he'll rip it off. He'll spit to the side in disgust at any mushy gushy talk done in front of others in this bastardization of another religion's ritual. This isn't a real ceremony. Let him show you what a wedding really is:

It's going to end up with your blood on his body and his blood on yours. He makes you straddle his lap, in the middle of the symbol of his lord that he's drawn upon the floor. The same sigil is dangled from a chain, his necklace held between you, from your view right between his intense violet eyes. The metal is cold as it plays a barrier between your lips and his.

Hidan's kiss is reverent. If this Jashinist is marrying you, he fucking means it. Do more than tolerate the cut a knife makes into your palm; pray to it.

...And then he will pray to you.

A wedding song for you: I Wanna Be Your Slave by Maneskin or Misanthrapologist by Will Wood

Bad relationship song I can't help but add: This is Love by Air Traffic Controller

Kakuzu:

Despite popular belief, this is not a man who fusses over money the way Scrooge does over every last coin. By the contrary, it is that he is a man that does not have much to give. This is in every sense, it turns out. Kakuzu is a man that has had all hope in humanity and for himself beat the hell out of him, so it's a shock to him if you hint at a desire for marriage. A mistake, that's what you're trying to make, here. At first he'll rebuff with few words but still sure, but it'll hitch onto him like a tick. A traditional man at heart, you know best to let him propose himself.

And so he does. It is the only time you've ever seen him doubt himself, but of course you tell him yes. As you throw your arms around him, that's when reality hits in the best of ways.

He does not wait, not if you don't oppose him. He takes you to a temple, middle of nowhere with no one either of you or your nations will know. For an old man, it's such a romantic, young man's task to arrange to elope. The priest marries you, as you sit side by side at the break of dawn upon his stoop. He wears his mask, still wears long robes to cover his stitches, but his silky brown hair drifts so beautifully with the wind; he will say this compliment is one he had of you and yours, when he looks back upon today. You are his world, intertwined in an immortal and mortal life.

Kakuzu does not kiss you at the wedding. That comes later, when no one else is there. He pulls down his mask and takes your mouth upon his, tangled until one of you can't breathe anymore.

A wedding song for you: Vanilla Curls by Teddy Hyde or Budapest by George Ezra

Deidara:

A flirt he may be, but a guy of commitment? Hell no. At first he's really flattered, chuckling and letting a large smirk trail up one side of his face. It falls when he realizes you're being serious. "Wait, really?" You nod, and his always-intense stare seems a bit closer to concerned.

"My dear...you're getting carried away, aren't you?" he offers like a second chance to not embarrass yourself.

Everything, as it always has for Deidara, has happened so fast it hits him before he recognizes what it is. Love is included, even and up until the point he's in this deep. Honestly? It terrifies him. He'll laugh and walk away, but it'll fucking haunt him.

A couple days of flying on a bird, all by his lonesome, and he returns with a bit of a different view. Life is short, beauty is fleeting: the opportunity is here and damned if he don't take it. He offers your hand- both in marriage and for a ride- and you soar into the sky.

There's no such thing as a traditional wedding, no need for it when the most beautiful things in the world are you and his art. Explosions and fireworks alike light up the night sky and he leans over to whisper his dedication upon your lips.

Deidara's kiss is, of course, bombastic. It's intense and with tongue and repeats, over and over, never lasting too long as he can't keep his love-drunk words to himself for longer than two seconds. Streamers and confetti flutter around your heads, grander than any parade for any newly wed prince or princess.

A wedding song for you: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience or Fear and Delight by The Correspondents

Sasori:

Only someone who knows him as well as you will pick up the subtlest shifts of the scorpion's expression, the way brown eyes barely widen. You bring it up, nearly like a dream you had, nearly like you're talking to yourself in your sleep, but he hears it. Sasori continues with his work, the monotony of woodwork allowing him to chew on the idea. A marriage isn't necessary, of course...but he also will lie to himself about how downright alluring the symbolism of a wedding is.

If the most beautiful things are eternal, why not your love?

If you've gotten him so far that Sasori will consider whatever form of affection he can manage in his barely organic heart, then he will make every second of your life never-ending bliss.

He decorates you, almost like one of his dolls, in the finest patterns of fabric and sleekest of jewelry. He pains over every inch of skin on top of muscle and bone, the way the ring slips on your finger and the way your wrist bends to do it. The ritual is an art piece, and you gaze upon him so marvelously... Your lips part with such slight but sure poise...

The venue is silent and you both are alone. Not even a bird caws, no insect chirps. Pure, clear as glass silence. You are the only two beings in all of existence. You will ascend time itself. A single candle is lit as you sit in the deepest depths of this cave, where no one may interrupt.

Where no one can hear him confess to you.

Sasori's kiss is soft, far too soft. He holds both of your hands so delicately, like they're on a string. Lines of chakra help you move into him in a way that is just right, just utterly perfect.

A wedding song for you: Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert or Dark of the Matinee by Franz Ferdinand

Kisame:

Shockingly enough, this guy is going to be your hardest sell. Perhaps predictably, it isn't because he dislikes marriage, settling down, falling in love. Disliking and opposing are very different things.

He panics, at least just a little the first time you mention it. "I'm a shinobi, you know. You won't see me very much." Time passes on, and your desire appears again:

"I'm a rough guy. Just take a second to think about what you're asking for, alright?"

More time, and more desperation on his part with your persistence:

"I am meant to die alone," he finally tells you outright. "Don't bother with me. You could be spending your time so much better than fussing over someone who isn't going to last."

But you do, and he does last. Unfortunately, he does last. It gnaws him to the bone.

"Alright," he'll ask you, a long time since you first expressed your wants, "Are you certain?" You say yes, of course you say yes. Bittersweet, sharp teeth smile. "Very well," the swordsman concedes.

You marry traditionally, though very small. A hood drapes over him, hiding his face as the priest speaks the seal of marriage. His hand clings to yours, so very afraid of losing you. Or worse: making you lose him.

With the formalities out of the way, his own way begins. Finally alone, you both plunge into deep water, a loud splash quickly muting to flooded ears. He holds your face as your hair drifts past him in strands noses nearly touching. Kisame gets a good look at you before he changes everything forever, closing his eyes.

Kisame's kiss is a leap of faith. It tastes like lake water and seaweed and his love. He presses all of you into him like a shell holds a pearl, limbs climbing around you as you suspend in water and sink. Breathe into him, breathe deep. Every last breath in his lungs is just for you.

A wedding song for you: Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood or If I'm Being Honest by dodie

Itachi:

The implications of this circumstance are astounding. He loves you- yes, of course he does- but what's more is that he loves you enough to be so selfish as to gift himself to you, even knowing the fate he's reserved. It is both impressive and heartbreaking. Have hope, you ask of him. That is all you ask of him. Give it a chance. It is what he wants, isn't it?

Of course it is. But are you okay if the inevitable comes true?

You pause, and he studies your naive, innocent eyes. But you know more than perhaps Itachi has realized. You know it is okay to treasure. It is okay to enjoy. The journey matters more than the destination. Yes, it is okay, you tell him, you love to love him all the same.

Dark eyes close. Then he will give you what is desired.

Kisame is present, of course, as well as the ancestors of the Uchiha clan in spirit. You are radiant, and he tells you so. You return the compliment in soft earnest. A single hand cups your cheek as he approaches, pausing to feel and taste your breath as it drifts into his mouth.

Itachi's kiss is barely there, like he's afraid of breaking glass. If you want to kiss deeper, you'll need to go in and get it yourself. Just don't mistake delicacy for a lack of interest. This is the most of his body he has ever given in his entire life. Just give him time.

A wedding song for you: Herbal Tea by Velvet Moon or Here For You by Good Co

[inbloomwriting]

a kiss that I kept II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of Jamie's dad. Notes: Friends to idiots to lovers. Inspired by "Simple Song" by the Shins Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

When I was just nine years old I swear that I dreamed Your face on a football field And a kiss that I kept Under my vest Apart from everything But the heart in my chest

There’s something cathartic about being back home in Manchester. Not as a footballer, just as Jamie. When he doesn’t have to be phenomenal, when he doesn’t have to perform and win. When he doesn’t have to try so damn hard to give his dad a reason to be proud of him.

Without those expectations and without the pressure, it feels good to be home. It’s a part of his childhood that is untouched by his father’s malice. It’s pure and joyful and precious.

He’s not Jamie Tartt, golden child and footballer extraordinaire. He’s cousin Jamie. He’s Jamie from down the road. He’s Georgie’s boy. 

It’s been a while since he’s been back, been even longer since he’s seen any of his extended family but being back now, it feels like hardly any time has passed. Millie has always been his favorite cousin so when the envelope showed up in his mailbox, all fancy paper and swirly font, there was no hesitation in him. Nothing could keep him from attending her wedding.

She’s a beautiful bride, all flowy dress and flowers in her hair. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same kid that used to run around the neighborhood with Jamie, getting into trouble wherever they could find it. But somewhere between chiffon and carnations that little girl still exists. He wonders if the little boy he used to be is still alive somewhere inside of him. He hopes he’s proud of who he grew up to be. Sometimes he doubts it. 

His eyes wander across the room, the reception is in full swing, people are talking, laughing, celebrating. Love is radiating from every smile. Though Jamie doesn’t really care all too much about that if he’s being completely honest, he only cares about one particular smile. 

And when he catches sight of her, leaning against the bar with a glass of champagne in hand, wearing a gorgeous powder pink dress and daisies in her hair, he’s certain his heart misses a beat. 

It would be an understatement to call (Y/N) his best childhood friend. Friend was never a big enough word to describe what she meant to Jamie — what she still means to him. 

Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. 

“Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon or do you just want to stare at me all day, Tartt?” 

She says it with the same sense of mischief she’s always held. Like a silent promise of adventure perpetually hidden in her words. 

“I was going to — eventually.” 

“Well, eventually is not good enough for me. I missed you, Jamie.” 

It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he realizes just how much that sentiment is reciprocated. The familiar scent of lavender and the feel of her body against his, it all brings up so many memories of times long gone. This, Jamie thinks, is as close to time travel as humans will ever get.

He is suddenly 9 years old, playing soccer on the field just down the road from his house. His football is old and slightly inflated and some of the hexagons are flaking off, just holding on by a single tread. His goal is no real goal and all but two plastic bottles functioning as make-believe goalposts.

 The air smells like sunscreen and summer and dust and life is easy for a moment. He gets to do what he loves without having to prove anything to anyone. Football is just a game here, something to pass the time. It’s fun.

He does kicks and jumps and trick shots and it doesn’t matter if he messes up. He can fail without having to fear any repercussions. There is no one there to judge him for it. Failure is a byproduct of trying not a sign of weakness. 

Just as he is about to line up another shot at the makeshift goal, he sees her across the football field. At 9 years old, Jamie doesn’t know a lot of things but he’s quite certain she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. For a moment he wonders if she’s a dream, an illusion. Then she steps closer, comes walking towards him with that bright smile of hers and the glimmer of excitement shining in her eyes. 

“You’re really good,” she says. He’s heard that a few times before, it never mattered then because he wasn’t good enough, not to his father at least. It matters when this stranger says it though, because she’s pretty and because she has no reason to lie to him. 

“Thanks. I’m Jamie.”

“You’re bleeding.” 

His eyes follow to where she points at his right knee and sure enough, it’s scraped up, a drop of blood running down his leg.

“Does it hurt?” 

Jamie shrugs as if to let her know that it’s not a big deal. It does sting quite a bit now that she pointed it out to him. He’s not gonna let her know that though, girls don’t like soft boys who whine about scraped knees.

“I have a plaster if you want one. So you don’t get any dirt in the wound.” 

She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just rummages through her purse that’s shaped like a little poodle, and pulls out a plaster. Jamie holds out his hand though she doesn’t pay it any attention, just kneels down and softly, so fucking softly, put the plaster over his wound. It’s the first time he smells her lavender shampoo, the first time she smiles at him, and the first time she sends his heart racing. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.” 

And his life has not been the same since.

“ I missed you too.” 

It’s the truth. He missed her terribly. But sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who he is with who he used to be. Who he is now with the person she used to love.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t even answer my insta DMs, you ass.” 

Even when she curses him out, she regards him with infinite affection. 

The girl that put a plaster on his bleeding knee is now a whole woman, but the kindness is still the exact same. The softness she holds for him is still there.

“To be fair I hardly check those. They scare me, honestly.” 

“At least your mum updates me on your life. She was always my favorite Tartt anyway.” 

He loves how much she loves his mum and how much mum loves her. There is something so inexplicably comforting in knowing the people you love most share a bond. 

“Think you’re her favorite too.” 

“Oh yeah, I know I am.” 

Her laughter rings through the air like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. It’s so awfully cheesy, his own thoughts almost make him barf. But she just has that effect on him. 

“You look beautiful today, (Y/N).” 

“Today?” she asks in mock offense and though he knows it’s really just a joke, he feels the need to explain himself.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re always proper fit but that dress? You look like a fucking angel.” 

The way she bites her lip slightly and bashfully averts her eyes for a second, is a success in his book. 

She really does look gorgeous, a whole vision of perfection. The pink dress, the flowers — the necklace. 

A shiny rose gold charm sparkles in the light, resting gently against her skin. Heart-shaped like his feelings for her. He knows the pendant opens up and he knows exactly what he’ll find if he were to open it. 

His lips lift in an involuntary smirk.

“What’s that look for, Jam?” 

“You still got the necklace.”

She places a gentle hand against her chest, against the heart-shaped charm.

“Obviously. I will never ever ever get rid of it. I love it. You stole this for me!”

He was 14 and stupid and head-over-heels in love. He still remembers the sticky heat of the summer clinging to his skin, the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and the thought of her on his mind. 

They spent all day riding their bikes around town with nowhere to be and everywhere to go. It was a good day, a phenomenal day. She shared her ice cream cup with him and held his hand on the way back to their bikes. It was a phenomenal day and Jamie was not ready to let it end just yet. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she looked at that necklace in the shop window. 

In retrospect, it was an extraordinarily dumb idea, one of his worst to date, but it made her smile. The way she smiled at him when he gave her the necklace that he stole for her, that made it all worth it. The yelling from mum and the being grounded and the having to pay back the money by working at the store for 3 whole months that summer. 

Her smile made it all worth it.

“Mum was so mad at me that day.”

“Well, you did commit theft, so —” 

“Worth it though. Made you smile.” 

“Oh, Jam you— “ 

The nickname gives him shaky knees, the interruption by the DJ gives him a fucking headache.

“May all the unmarried ladies please report to the dance floor, it’s time for the bouquet toss.” 

“That’s my queue, I guess. Save me a dance, Jamie Tartt.” 

He will save her every damn dance in his life. They are all hers if she wants them.

She stands in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by a bunch of other women, a flicker of friendly competitiveness shining in her eyes. If she’s joining in on the bouquet toss, that means she’s not married, does that mean she’s single? 

Of course, he could’ve asked mum, she knows for sure, but that would just open a whole different can of worms. You don’t ask your own mum if the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 9 years old, is single. You just don’t, no matter how badly you want to know.

The DJ starts playing Girls just wanna have fun, (Y/N) hated that song. “It’s awfully overplayed”, she said one time they were driving in his car, before changing the station. 

She must still hate it judging by the grimace that falls over her face for a mere second before she catches herself and puts another polite smile back on her lips. 

Millie stands before the group of women, back towards her friends, and bouquet raised in the air before counting down.

One 

Two

Three

The flowers fly through the air and land in the hands of a girl whose name Jamie can’t recall but she’s definitely one of the bridesmaids. Chelsea? Cristy? Something like that. She looks elated, a guy leaning against the bar looks mortified. 

(Y/N) seems thoroughly unbothered by it all as she strolls back across the dance floor toward Jamie. 

“Do you want me to congratulate you or give you my condolences?” 

She just laughs and shakes her head “It’s not like I have any suitors waiting for me to offer them my hand in marriage anyway.” 

So she is single. Not that it matters or anything. It’s good to know though.

His eyes sweep across her face, then her hair, where one of the daisies is barely holding on and just about to fall off. Without giving it another thought, as if moving on autopilot, Jamie gingerly plucks the flower from her hair and places it behind her ear. There’s something about her that makes him want to be soft, that allows him to be soft. 

“Almost lost one.” 

“Thank you, Jamie.” 

The tenderness in her words almost sends him to his knees. When you’re used to words being sharp and bitter it’s hard to accept when they are silky and delicate. 

“You have the saddest eyes, Jam. What’s bothering you?” 

There is a big long metaphorical list of all the things that rest so heavy on his heart. The pressure of having to be the best version of himself at all times. The feeling of failure always creeping up on him. The fear of messing up. The idea of not being good enough. 

The reminder of what could’ve been and of all that isn’t.

He has a whole big list of things that make him sad — he doesn’t say any of that though. Just shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance. 

“Don’t know what you mean, I’m chuffed. Doing fan-fucking-tastic.” 

She can read him like a book, always could. Jamie doesn’t know why he even tries to fool her, it’s not going to work either way.

“I know that’s a lie,” (Y/N) scoffs then regards him with a look he can’t place. It’s a mix between pity and something else, something warm and comforting. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me about it. I’m aware we aren’t as close as we used to be but I just want you to know that I am always in your corner, Jamie. Always.” 

He has no doubt she means what she says but Jamie isn’t sure she really knows what she’s talking about. She knew him as a little kid, an awkward teenager, a misguided 20-year-old. She doesn’t know this new version of him. Bitter and a little lost — or maybe a lot.

Jamie isn’t sure this new him deserves her loyalty.

"There's something that does make me sad, actually."

"What's that?"

"The fact that I’ve not had a single slice of cake yet. That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“And I thought you were here to celebrate your cousin getting married.” 

“Common misconception, really. I mean I am — but mostly it’s about the cake. Technically I’m on a diet but it's a wedding, that doesn’t count. We all know that.” 

They both know he’s just talking out of his ass. Of course, he’s here for Millie. For the wedding and the family get together and all of it. And even a little for (Y/N). Because he really did miss her … so fucking badly.

“Oh well, let’s go get us some cake then. Can’t have you starving, not Jamie Tartt — the island’s top scorer.” 

Jamie has done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t particularly proud of. He tries to see them all as learning opportunities, cautionary tales for a future him. Doesn’t mean he likes to think about them. Especially not his short but quite memorable stint on the dating show Lust conquers all. All the worst parts of him put on display for everyone to see and discuss and judge, every night at 8pm. 

“You watched that then?”

“Uh, obviously?! What’s a best friend’s job if not to laugh about you while you make a fool of yourself on a dating reality tv show?” 

It warms him from the inside out, to hear that she still considers him her best friend. He’s not sure he’s been very good at it in the last few years. Has barely talked to her. But then again, who makes the rules? Maybe some people are bound together so tightly from the very beginning that neither time nor distance can break them apart. 

“I’ll have you know that I was number one on famous birthdays the day after I got eliminated from the show. So, who’s laughing now?” 

“Were you? How long did that last?” 

“Like a day, maybe 2. Then it went back to John Krasinsky, fucking wanker.” 

“Aw babe, well you’ll always be my favorite person born on October 20th. “ she says as they both come to stand by the table decked out in cakes and other desserts. “ I do like the office though, hmm…” 

"Oh, sod off. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”

He likes the way she hugs his arm in mock apology. She’s not sorry, in fact, she’s still laughing. It doesn’t matter if she’s laughing with or about him though. As long as there is a smile on her face, that’s good enough for him.

“Sorry. Can I make it up to you?” 

Jamie nudges her shoulder with his, the way they always did when they were kids. That little boy that was so in love with her, he’s slowly but surely clawing his way to the surface again. Breaking free from Jamie’s ribcage where he has been kept hidden for such a long time now.

“Well, what about that cake then?” 

The neon lights dip her in shades of blues and pinks and purples as she twirls on the dancefloor, weaving in and out of the crowd. Jamie is sure he’s seen this very moment in a dream of his before. 

“Oh, you look so handsome, my baby. Are you having a good time?” 

His mother’s voice cuts through his hazy daydreams as she plops down on the chair next to him. No matter how old he gets, Jamie doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of his mother’s affection. Her unshaken faith in him and her unwavering belief that he is a good man, after all.

“You’re my mum, you have to say that.”

“Absolutely not! Remember when you had that dangly earring? I told you right out you looked like a muppet.” 

“Yeah you did,” he nods and takes a sip of his beer “Crushed me, honestly. Loved that earring. Thought I looked well cool.” 

“Well, you know who didn’t hate it? (Y/N).” 

That gets his attention. Eyebrows raised he takes his eyes off of the girl in question and turns fully towards his mother.

“How would she know? She didn’t see it.” 

“Yes, she did. I showed her a picture when we had girls night.” 

It's a nice image, his mum and (Y/N) having girls night. Sure, having them team up on him is terrifying, but he can't help but relish in the fact that his loves love each other so dearly. 

"Girls night, huh? You ladies talk about me a lot then?"

"Are you joking?" 

The way his mum raises her eyebrow is so familiar. It's the same damn expression he sees in himself all the time.

"That girl has been in love with you since you were kids. Of course, we talk about you a lot. You're all we talk about, Jamie. "

As a kid, Jamie always wondered what it felt like to put your finger straight into an electrical outlet. He never did it, obviously. But there was some strong curiosity there.

This is what it must feel like. Hearing his mother say that (Y/N) is in love with him, that's what it must feel like

Electric shocks straight to the heart.

“What?” 

His mum just shakes her head, there’s that smile pulling at her lips. That typical mother's smile that tells you that they know you so much better than you know yourself.

“Come on now, Jamie. You know this is how she feels, everyone does. She adores you. Same way you adore her. That is how you feel, isn’t it?” 

Of course, it is. She’s everything. She feels like an ocean being warmed by the sun. Warm and inviting and comforting. Beautiful. Tender. Soft.

“Don’t matter really, does it? We haven’t talked in so long. Doubt she even knows me well enough anymore.” 

“She watches every match, goes to most of them if she can. She even bought that video game you’re on. Girl is almost as proud of you as I am. Look love, “ Mum rests a gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t know half the things that are bothering you right now but I do know that you’re struggling. I just want you to know that you are not a bad person, Jamie. The little boy you used to be deserved to be loved and so does the man you are now. You made bad choices but you still deserve love. We all make bad decisions sometimes. I know I made a lot of them when I was younger.” 

“Hah, like having me.”

He passes it off as a joke but there’s a hint of truth swinging along. She was really young when she had him and while he knows she doesn’t resent him for it, he wonders if maybe her life would’ve turned out better had he not come along. Mum loves him unconditionally and she always makes sure he knows it so it’s a silly thing to think about really. It’s a fleeting thought and it really only shows itself when he’s already deep in his thoughts but when it does, it sends him spiraling. 

The slap to the arm is not friendly or in good humor, that one is meant to sting.

“Don’t you ever say that again. You are my life, Jamie. I love you. Having you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You hear me?” 

It’s dumb really, he knows Mum loves him. It’s always been them against the world (or well, them against dad, really). But sometimes his head gets so loud and fills itself with stupid thoughts.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I love you, mama.” 

“Love you too, my baby boy. And I am so proud of everything you ever did, okay? Except maybe the earring.” 

A chuckle falls from Jamie’s lips. “The earring was a bad idea, I got it.”

“Good. Now go dance with your girl, yeah? You two are driving me crazy.” 

His girl. His girl wraps her arms around his neck when he walks up to her on the dancefloor. His girl looks up at him with the most radiant smile. His girl who feels like the sun and smells like lavender and wraps his heart in silk and sweet memories.

“Finally, thought I was going to have to drag you onto the dancefloor. You still owe me a dance.” 

“Sorry. Not much of a slow dancer, yeah? I do know some great boy band choreographies though, and the cha-cha slide.” 

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Coach made us learn a full N'sync routine for Doctor Sharon's going away party. She didn't show up but I was fucking ace. I’m sure Keeley has a video of it somewhere.” 

She grants him a smile though it doesn't reach her eyes.

"How is Keeley? How are you guys?"

There's an edge to her words and if he didn't know better he'd call it jealousy. But that doesn't make sense … right?

There's no him and Keeley, at least not in the way she's asking about. There never will be. Keeley is one of his favorite people but her friendship means so much more than any fickle try on upholding a relationship doomed to fail. Jamie thinks there's something brave and mature about that realization.

"She's good. We're good. Friends I mean. Good friends."

"No more dating?"

"Nah she's dating one of my best friends. Hated it at first but they're kinda perfect for each other. It's a bit disgusting, really."

Those words manage to pull the smile all the way up to reach her eyes. It's magnificent. Spectacular. A laugh tumbles from her lips, a sound so sweet if he were to taste it, he's sure it would put the most delicious honey to shame.

"You know," Jamie speaks and pulls her closer as they absentmindedly sway along to the music " I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For the phone call that one night."

It was just after Manchester had kicked him out. No one wanted to sign him. He had burned bridges with everyone who ever stood by him and gave him a chance and Jamie had never felt more lost and more alone.

He just needed someone. A piece of home. A reminder of the 9-year-old boy who loved football for the fun of it all. He needed her. 

He hadn't expected her to pick up that night, he really didn’t deserve it. But she did. Of course, she did. She always did.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Jamie. You are you and I am me and I will always pick up the phone for you."

It's such a simple thought. The most basic of all concepts. You are you and I am me and there will always be a space for us in my life and yours.

"I just - I felt very alone and lost and I hated the person I was then. It was like I was some boat or something, stuck on a cliff. And then when I talked to you and you had my back anyway it was like all my fears that I told you about suddenly disappeared, you know? Like you sent me a wave, a flood and gave my boat a lift over the rocks. I know it sounds fucking silly but Ted has me reading all these books with the big words. Making me feel all smart and philosophical."

She's so gentle when she combs her fingers through his hair, tugging some strands back behind his ear. He will never grow tired of soft touches and even softer looks.

"Jamie, even if I didn't like the person you were then, I loved you anyway. I don't have to like you to love you. Loving someone means accepting that they make mistakes but giving them room to become the person you know they can be. You wanted to change for the better and honestly, I think you turned out pretty spectacular."

Jamie isn’t quite sure if he will ever grow used to receiving love in the form of comforting words and soft touches but he truly relishes in it, always. 

"Do you wanna get out of here? Party is about to wind down anyway. Don't think anyone's gonna miss us."

The night feels heavy with possibility. 

"Sure, Jam. Where do you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."

The glimmer in her eyes tells him she has an idea.

The bench by the side of the field looks the exact same it did when he was a kid. Chipping red paint and rotting wood. Initials in permanent marker forever immortalizing past versions of whoever wrote them down. Time forever frozen.

Jamie is 9 years old again and he is also 11 and 13 and 16 and 25. It’s all the same. It’s all so different.

The field is no field anymore, it’s now a proper little football pitch with a goal on each side. 

“What happened here then? That wasn’t there when we were little.” 

(Y/N) strolls across the field, twirling in her dress illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps. She looks like something out of a movie. He’s sure if he was a smarter man, more poetic, he’d be writing songs about her, poems, books.

 In that book Ted made him read, there’s this one line that Jamie suddenly remembers.

“She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance”

He thought those were just big words for saying some girl was well fit. He thinks he might get it now.

“Yeah well, some of us put together some money and convinced the neighborhood council to finally turn it into a proper pitch.” 

“Some of you?"

“Mostly your mum, Simon, and I”

She meets his eyes across the field and his heart still does the same silly shimmy it did when he first saw her face. 

“Why?” 

“So another little 9-year-old kid gets to play with actual goals and doesn’t have to use plastic bottles.”

They did it for the kids, the community. But they mostly did it for him, for the child in his heart that never grew up. That is clinging to his insides and that only gets to live in his memories and in the hearts of the people he loves. The people that love him.

(Y/N) leans against one of the goalposts, a smile playing on her lips as Jamie strolls up to stand in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His jacket is long forgotten on some chair back at the wedding venue.

“You know”, she says and lets her gaze drift upwards towards the sky. There is too much light to see the stars but Jamie thinks there’s still some kind of comfort knowing they are up there even when you can’t see them. The authors of the books Ted gives him, they’d have some flowery pretentious allegory to tell about all of this. He is no author, he's just a fool in love.

“This is where I had my very first kiss. Right here.” 

Jamie wonders if she knows of the little electric shocks she sends straight to his heart when she lowers her head and looks straight at him while speaking those words.

It’s not news to him. Of course, it’s not. 

He was there. 

“Oh, was it?”

“Yup.” 

“Hope the lad was alright.” 

“He was perfect — for a twelve-year-old. I was also 12 though so I had nothing to compare, really.” 

“What was he like? Lucky kid.” 

“He had this really badly bleached blond hair. Tried to do it at home with a cheap box dye. Didn’t listen when I told him it was a bad idea.” 

“I bet he looked fucking cool.” 

“Had a bit of an ego, that one. Still does. Bit misplaced for someone who looked like Draco Malfoy.” 

“You had a big fat crush on Draco Malfoy.” 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t know when it happens. One moment they’re joking around, strolling down memory lane and the next her hand is in his hair, his hand on her waist, noses almost touching. “I did.” 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“That was my first kiss too.” 

There’s a flicker of surprise shining in her eyes.

“Huh? You said your first kiss was with Emma behind the playground.” 

“Well I was lying, wasn’t I? Wanted you to think I’m cool and experienced.” 

“We were 12 you dum dum. And I always thought you were cool.” 

He was not cool at 12. No one is cool at 12. It still makes him weirdly proud to hear her say it. 12-year-old Jamie would be positively buzzing at that revelation.

“I um — Jamie, why did we never talk about it again? I know we were 12 and whatever but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you?” 

Some memories, Jamie thinks, are meant to be shared. You want to tell everyone about them over and over again and it feels like you might burst if you don’t share them with others. 

And then there are memories that are meant just for you. Beautiful places to escape to. So you keep them hidden in your chest, apart from everything else but your heart when they beat in sync. And they become part of you. And they keep you alive. That’s where he keeps this kiss. The first one. The only one that ever mattered.

“It means everything to me. But I — I wanted to keep that kiss to myself. That was mine and yours and I didn’t want anyone or anything to ruin that or turn it into something bitter and sad. “

“If I were to kiss you again, would you also want to keep that a secret?” 

He shakes his head, his nose gently nudging her’s with the movement.

“Nah, I’d wanna scream it from the fucking rooftops.” 

When she kisses him he is 9 years old again, seeing his future staring right back at him through the face of a little girl. He is 12 years old kissing her in the field, a kiss he’d kept with his heart ever since. He is 14 crying on the floor of her room the night he got back from the Amsterdam trip with his dad. He is 16 and a prick to everyone but her. 

He is 25 and more in love than he’s ever been.

“50 fucking pence? Are you joking?”

“Nope. Dead serious.” 

“That’s fucking mental.” 

Her laughter echoes through the night as they walk down the familiar streets paved with countless memories. He#s holding her hand and he’s never felt more delighted about anything so simple. 

“They still taste fucking great though.” 

“They do, don’t they?” 

Leave it to (Y/N) to continuously surprise him. As they started their walk back towards her house, she pulled two Cadbury Freddos from her sparkly purse. Jamie can almost feel the sun on his skin from all the walks they did to the corner shop during summer holidays to get some Freddos and a smarties pop-up ice.

“Don’t tell Roy I ate chocolate though, he’s gonna kick me ass.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Her childhood home is coming into view just down the road and with it the end of this night. The door is a deep red color, he remembers (Y/N) helping her dad paint it when she was maybe 10 or 11 and her parents never seemed to have changed it since. 

“Soooo what’s happening now?” 

It feels a little silly to ask but Jamie has spent so much time keeping his questions inside of his head and not voicing them to her and he wonders just how much time he wasted because of that. Time he could’ve spent with (Y/N).

“I — I don’t know, Jamie. I want this to be. I want us to be, always did. Probably always will. But I don’t want you to choose me because being home pushed you into some kind of nostalgia-induced stupor or something. I want you to be sure about us. So, how about you sleep on it and tomorrow morning you pick me up for breakfast and we’ll talk? “

If he’s being entirely honest, he doesn’t want to talk. All he wants is to kiss her and then kiss her some more. To make up for every second that he wasted not telling her how he felt. But she is being rational and sensible as always and he has to respect that. Out of the two of them, she was always the reasonable one while Jamie did first and then thought about it later.

“Okay yeah. I’ll see you in the morning then.” 

“Goodnight, Jam.” 

“Night, (Y/N). You look beautiful by the way, not sure I said it.” 

“Thanks, you look very handsome too.” 

There’s an I love you on the tip of his tongue and he so desperately wants to say it but when she places a kiss on his cheek and opens the red door, all his thoughts just slip from his mind.

“Bye, Jamie.” 

“Bye.” 

He stays stuck for a moment or two before his legs slowly carry him down the road. The night is inky black and the street lamps' horrid orange-hued light reflects against the asphalt. 

So many times he’s walked down this exact road wondering what could be. Wondering how to show her how much he loved her. Wondering if someday, somehow they would end up together. 

9-year-old Jamie knew she was his destiny from the moment their eyes met across the football field. What would he think seeing him now, walking away from all he ever wanted? 

What’s that quote from that romcom the team watched together the other day?

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

The shiny black shoes he’s wearing are not meant for running. He figures that out as he turns on the spot and rushes back down the street toward the red door. There is no need for him to sleep on anything. He has never been more sure about anything in his life. Ever.

His heart is racing as he reaches the house, as he knocks on the door, and as he rings the doorbell — for good measure. 

His heart stops when she opens the door, her dress gone and exchanged for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

“Jamie? You forgot something?” 

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“What?” 

“I don’t need to sleep on it. I know what I want. I want us, I want you. Always did. Always will. You’re the only person I want to talk to when I feel shit and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good’s happened. I want to ride my bike with you the way we did when we were kids and eat freddos with you even if they’re 50 fucking pence now, which is insane. I want to go to weddings with you and dress up fancy and I want to sit on the couch and watch movies with you we’ve both seen a million times. I want you to make fun of my stupid earring and have you help me dye my hair and I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are every single fucking day. I want everything and anything as long as it involves you. And I don’t need to sleep on it. I am sure.” 

“Jamie?” 

“Yeah?!”

“Kiss me!” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

It feels right, to hold her and to kiss her. Like all his life has been leading up to this moment. To her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist.

And he thinks she might just feel the same. She doesn’t need to say it to let him know. She tells him with his tongue, with the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin, with her breath in his lungs. 

He is 9 years old and also 12 and also 14 and 16 and 20 and 25. He is all those versions of himself and each of them was and is in love with (Y/N).

[oceaneyesinla]

This was written in honour of Softie Sunday, thank you for the inspiration Rei!!!! <3 @peachsukii

Never Stop (Wedding Version) by SafetySuit was running through my head when I wrote that ending - it's such a sweet song 🥹

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Shoto knows you're working on ... something; he can hear your happy little giggles every so often, and he can practically feel the joy radiating off you from across the garden. You asked him not to peek, though, and so he doesn't - content to bask in your presence from afar while he builds the new garden table you both picked out the week before.

Of course you had offered to help him, sweet eyes worried as you fretted over him and lips slipping into a little pout. He insisted you rest though - you're still sporting an ankle brace after a nasty fall during a villain fight, and he's determined to make sure that you don't lift a single finger while you're recovering. He can still remember the sheer terror that shot through him as he watched you fall; eyes closed and limbs limp. It was only minutes until Denki confirmed he had you and you were alive, but it felt like a lifetime when he was waiting to hear whether his world was falling apart or not.

He pushes the memory aside - there's no need to focus on what could have happened, when he has everything he ever wanted right here. You're safe, humming to yourself in the garden of the house you bought together, and he can't help the smile that lifts up his lips as he thinks about you and the future the two of you are building.

He doesn't need to be facing you to know when you move; after this long, he has a sixth sense when it comes to you. You're coming closer, and he can picture your pretty smile in his mind - it's the one you always wear when you look his way, sweet and soft and full of all the love he knows in his soul you feel for him. He's doubted a lot in his life, but he'll never doubt your devotion - not when he's equally as adoring.

He's crouched down, screwing one of the wood sections into place and he feels you press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head before you place something on top of his head, your fingers brushing ever so gently against his hair. Placing his tools down on the grass, he twists to look up at you, falling in love all over again with the bright spark in your eyes and the happy grin splitting your face. You look beautiful, the afternoon sunlight surrounding you in a golden glow.

Pushing up to standing, he leans in to press a kiss to the tip of your nose then your forehead, relishing the little giggle it pulls out of you. Your arms wrap around him and he swears he can see hearts in your eyes as you look at him - probably reflecting the ones in his own.

A few stray strands of hair are falling into your face, and he brushes them away with a featherlight touch, "Are you planning to tell me what you put on my head, or should I start guessing?"

You look delighted, "I made you a little present. You look so pretty!"

You're pulling out your phone and a few taps later, you hold it out to him, camera open so he can see himself. His head is adorned with a crown of wildflowers - you must have been sitting in the patch of them next to the house. It's your favourite part of the garden, and he can just imagine you there, legs criss crossed and bathed in sunlight.

"It's beautiful, love. It would suit you better, though." It always makes his chest feel ready to burst when you do things like this - treating him like he's a masterpiece created by an artisan, like he's something to be cherished.

"Nuh uh! It suits you, Sho!" Your smile is brighter than the sunlight surrounding you both, "How is the table going? Do you need anything?"

He reaches up to his head, lifting the flower crown with infinite care, as if he's holding the most delicate pottery, and placing it on your head, pressing another kiss to the skin just underneath where it sits when he's done, "Only you."

His heart speeds up when you smile up at him, and he will never get used to you. He doesn't want to, either. He wants to feel this way about you every single day for the rest of his life. Under the sunlight, in the garden of your new home, he's certain he always will.

@pixelcafe-network

[jacesvelaryons]

valentines

tom blyth x kpopidol!fem!reader

fc: jennie kim of blackpink

part two to english love affair

notes: and i’m back! you must’ve feared i’d never post again but i’m more inspired than ever. thank you for someone suggesting a valentines post, and for once im early. most posts will be coming from me soon!

please request, send me anons, talk to me, suggestions and what not. i do soc med aus and also written blurbs and have plans for stories about tom and his characters. ♥️

hope you enjoy! again please like, follow, share, and most especially reblog with your lovely comments to reach more and send me feedback/comments on anything.

divider by @cafekitsune

yourusername

liked by hunterschafer and 5,009,656 likes

happy valentines to my heart of heart, the soul of my soul, my best friend, the light of my life and more. my life has never been the same since you’ve been it, and i wouldn’t want it any other way. i love you @/tomblyth

user145 THEYRE SO CUTE

randomuser8 oh i’m so single 🤒

tomblyth i love you too, my sweet 🩷

↪️ yourusername i love you so much

↪️ tomholland2013 oh get a room guys 🙄

↪️ yourusername @/zendaya go get your man please

↪️ zendaya 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️i don’t know what you mean

↪️ tomholland2013 HEY! 😭😭

jessicalxander dream couple!

hallebailey you guys are so perfect together

tayrussell send the wedding invites please 🙏

↪️ user7 HUH?

↪️ ynfan she’s playing we know y/n and tom are so busy to even think of it lol

tomblyth

liked by alexademie and 2.8m others

my siren, my muse. as another valentines rolls in, i never wish to take this for granted as another milestone simply and enjoy everyday i’ve had with you, my angel. my brilliant, talented, gorgeous, intelligent girl. i love you @/yourusername

jenaissante treating my girl right as you should 😌

↪️ yourusername love youu girlie pop 🫂

↪️ ynfan6 tom found dead in a ditch who?

user197 aww him following her in the studios to watch her produce so cute

johnnyjsuh and when are we getting that solo song y/n? 🤨

↪️onyourm__ark yeah @/yourusername where’s all that studio time going

↪️ yourusername trust it’s coming soon 🙏🙏

↪️ user67 she said this last time i hate ___ entertainment 😭

username9 she’s so pretty i wish to be like her when i grew up

antifan8 get this ugly off tom’s profile

↪️ tomblyth you have no right to insult my girlfriend like that. get out my page otherwise.

↪️ randomuser5 tom defending his girl as he should

user77 nobody send a truck in front her company she ain’t leaving her man

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by tomblyth and others

oh how i love love.

usernamehere her apron is so cute does anyone know where it’s from?

↪️ random8 probably couture or something at this point or goop lol

↪️ user7 probably my mom made this

↪️ ynfan725 who’s momma?

↪️ user7 that’s the brand 😭

↪️ ynfan725 oh my bad ignore me lol 😅

user86 she’s so spoiled by him and he in turn manifesting this for me

random9 me next year

user7775 that cake must be so good and easy to make

↪️ fan721 i’m a pastry chef and make these and they ain’t easy lol

kpopfan421 ynnie what’s the name of your bear?

↪️ yourusername not sure 🤔 any suggestions?

↪️ user8 how about tommy!

↪️ yourusername lets go with that 😁

tomblyth

liked by mayahawke and 7.8m others

ynfan856 oh y/n you are so loved

random1002 the daily love notes in the mirror and countdown oh i’m sick

melissabarrera 🩷

oliviarodrigo how romantic!

rachelzegler putting in the effort blyth!

↪️ tomblyth anything for my girl

↪️ rachelzegler ofc because i’d steal her from you if you don’t 😝

austinbutler great job man

yourusername

liked by taylorswift and 10.5m likes

so grateful, i’m speechless.

alexconsani OKAY GIRLL GET THE BAG

↪️ yourusername learned from you sis 😍

user86 this has to be the most liked post on ig in a while

kpopfan454 do they have this on amazon lol

↪️ user1111 you checked craigslist or something i’ve given up 😭😭

random723 oh he has to be rich rich to give her that

↪️ user913 GOOD FOR HER!

hunterschafer you deserve this and more my angel

↪️ yourusername love you so much hunty im going to cry

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I told my partner want to be their wife but not their bride?

INFO: I'm not even dating anyone yet.

I'm a queer adult (37F) dating for the first time. I'm an only child with one living blood relation I still speak to (my mom; she's great. everyone else is bigoted), and I've been clinically, life-ruiningly shy for my entire life.

I have twelve people that I could invite to a wedding, including the 3 plus ones. Of those, maybe 8 would make an effort to attend, and maybe 6 of them would have the means to travel to my city.

The thought of doing the whole wedding song and dance makes me feel nothing but pathetically alone. It makes me want to crawl in a hole.

And that's before we get into how much I hate parties, crowds, dancing, weird lighting, weird auditory ambiance.

Greeting the usual dozens of guests on my partner's list (and my single digit single table) with a customer service smile has me on the edge of an anxiety attack just writing it down.

When I think of weddings all I can see is how little I matter and how unimportant I am. How rarely I'm thought of or remembered. I've been invited to five weddings in my life. I've attended three. For two I was an afterthought invitation and for one I had to ask whether I made the list at all because I needed to start saving money to attend.

I'm not even dating anyone right now, and my dating pool is already so small. (Wants me, wants a long-term serious relationship, wants kids, but is ideally queer and polyam or polycurious, doesn't smoke or use weed or other drugs, nonreligious, politically liberal.)

But weddings are such a Big Fucking Deal, for so many people; if I throw this on too I think I might just reduce my options to 0.

Is it ever ok to ask someone to give up having a wedding for me? Because I can't do it.

I can't, I know what happens if I try, and it's me freezing up in the bridal suite and not being able to come out until everyone has left. Not in a "lol the nerves" way. In an "I am about to be killed and eaten alive by a bear but if I dissociate then having my organs torn from my body will hurt less until the shock kicks in and I die" way.

Except without the relief of being dead at the end.

And with the social consequences of ruining my hypothetical spouse's wedding for them and for their family and their friends and embarrassing them in front of their obligation guests.

And if it even is an ok thing to need, is there ever an ok time and place and way to drop the bombshell?

INFO: Repeat, I am not dating anyone at this time

What are these acronyms?

[kaalboishakhi]

love isnt what they say but what they choose to do. somethings they dont "have" to do but nonetheless simply choose to because that's what love is about. love is , my best friend choosing to go to his college 1672kms away in chennai a day before his semester starts because he doesn't want to miss my birthday. love is, the friend who hasn't even seen me in real, choosing to send me a voice note in the middle of a very chaotic family dinner because i have my entrance tomorrow and she wants to assure me in her own voice ill be okay because she thinks im special. love is, my friend who's only ever spent a single day with me calling me over phone 2 times a day because i make him happy. love is, my friend choosing to post me to her favorite love song because we cannot dance to it like a married couple due to geographic division. love is, my sister choosing to boast to all her friends about me even though she's 10 times more amazing than i am. love is, my favourite junior choosing to dance to ambarsariya even tho she hasn't ever before danced in her life because she wabted to make my farewell special. love is, my friend choosing to bake a cake for my birthday even though im 514kms away and sending me videos of it while singing happy birthday to me. love is, my cousin choosing to send a rakhi to me he made with his own hands because i couldn't go for raksha bandhan, even though i shouldve be the one sending him a rakhi. love is, my brother choosing to get me a cat because he thinks i deserve it after 12 years of torture in school. love is, my friend running over to my house with roses and lotuses and daisies because my parents were being mean and not letting me out. love is, my friend choosing to show up at the goddamn hospital in 15 minutes' time from her uncle's wedding because my sister pranked her saying i broke my arm. love is, my friend choosing to stand up to the teacher infront of the whole class because i was being berated for something i didn't do. love is, my friend from 2000kms away choosing to fly to kolkata just to see me. love is, my friend telling the school librarian how im fond of books so she would let me into the restricted section.love is, my friend choosing to go to the mandir to pray for me because i got sick during exams. maybe the love we've been searching all along, has been here the whole time.

[agendabymooner]

mamma mia (again) ! daniel r. x ofc (måneskin member! ofc)

“they ask me why i’m so hot, ‘cause i’m italiano.”

summary: a series of video clips, but it’s only just danny ric being in love with a certain lester alessandro.

content warning: hint or two of suggestive comments (nothing detailed or graphic), use of explicit language, filler blurb or something, danny being a simp for few videos straight (“have my kids” type beat), lester being an etsy and pinterest enthusiast, literally posted this blurb from my phone so they’re crazy about their image limits 😩

note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE 105 FOLLOWERS?! UHM? seriously, i’ve never been so happy. i honestly only started posting these because i have them ingrained in my brain and won’t let go until i write or make something. just indulging my imagination you know? enjoy xx

masterlist

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏

【VIDEO ONE — daniel ricciardo is a gatekeeper】

[1st image: yeah, i dunno. everyone just found out that i made it official with my girlfriend and i’m pretty sure i just saw lando weeping in his room. max was the second to react to it and i’m so sure he recoiled. he did say that he didn't want to know what happened in imola few months ago.]

[2nd: interviewer: what happened in imola few months ago? daniel: *chuckles* wouldn’t you like to know - nah, i’m messing about. nothing happened in imola besides from me retiring to my bed early. i think we were both drunk when i posted that photo and i know it looks lewd but there's no way we could've done anything questionable.]

[3rd: d: but yeah. we didn't really want to catch that much attention until maybe i don't know... when we're married or something *chuckles* i: keep it a secret until the wedding? d: yeah. but charles, the absolute fool, posted videos during the concert with me in the background. It would've been real nice if no one caught onto it until we had a mini ric running and racing, you know? just to wreak havoc.]

【VIDEO TWO — daniel ricciardo talks about lester’s love language in his gq video】

[1st: i got this journal from lori. it has my initials "DR" on it for daniel ricciardo*laughs* it's one of those many first gifts that i’ve gotten from her throughout our first few months of dating. her love language isn't just shitting on my life -she has every single aspect of love language within her and this is one of them.]

[2nd: when she gave this to me, all she said was "you can write out your thoughts if you can't let them out through your mouth. *giggles* "she clearly had her thoughts sorted out that time especially when she showed me a page with an embossed phrase or nickname, "tasso di miele" - it means honey badger. she apparently bought the custom embosser from etsy and almost fought tooth and nail just to get it in time. *laughs even more* i love her so much, i honestly wanted to cry that day.]

[3rd: lori actually has a laptop with *laughs* itunes on it and she still got some playlists from 2010-2014? yeah. she’s put a lot of old taylor swift songs in my ipod during the christmas break. my favourite album right now is speak now. she loves red.]

【VIDEO THREE — lester hates ashy hands confirmed】

[1st: daniel: i think i should just cover my hands with gloves all the time. lando: that literally has nothing to do with anything that we're about to do. d: lori tells me that my hands are rough whenever she holds them.]

[2nd: l: or you know... you can just use a hand lotion all the time because your hands dry up real fast? d: ah that's true. i wonder if that's why lori just casually put a bottle of hand cream on my travel bag. the thing smells nice though. it’s chamomile.]

【VIDEO FOUR — it’s okay to spoil your partner; even if it’s an accent chair from her pinterest board】

[1st: d: lori just sent me a picture of an armchair from ikea. l: why was she randomly in ikea, by the way? I saw the text. d: window shopping. but anyway, she saw this armchair that she had on her pinterest board. she asked "pretty or no?" with the green velvet chair. l: what did you tell her?]

[2nd: word to word? I texted her "LOL you should see the accent chair I've gotten you for our flat in monaco." l: are you serious? *laughs* d: she wouldn't tell me what she wanted for her birthday. I only got a brief idea when she left her phone in my pocket once and gave me a free access to her pinterest boards.]