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therealityhelix · 1 year

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By Talos, This Can’t be Happening pt 16

It’s Tamriel Tuesday! Helix is good at the things she does.

Rated PG13 for: Blood, violence, sexual situations, bad puns, and other poor life choices.

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

?~?~?~?~?

He groaned into his encroaching awareness, begging it to retreat once again. Even after an admittedly amateur, yet earnest massage, he was still just so, so sore.

It made sense, of course. They'd spent the last however many days climbing mountains, running from monsters, fighting bandits and undead, sleeping outside on the ground, stressing out, and just moving nonstop.

Swag was pretty healthy nowadays, considering the circumstances, but...damn, it was a lot.

And Helix...Helix had been far too stoic about it all. It wasn't normal, not for her. How badly was she hurting, if he felt like this?

He nuzzled the back of her head, and heard the pain in her slurred mumbling. Oh yeah, he had been right. He just hadn't been listening close enough before.

“Baby? We're taking a bed day today, okay? We've both earned it, and ain't nobody gonna be out and about today.”

She moaned an affirmative and rolled over to face him, her gray eyes bleary without her glasses.

Half her sight, huh? Was there a limit to how much one could sacrifice for magic like that? The cost seemed way too high to him, but she'd had really good reasons for her decisions. He didn't like those eyes any less for it, with their marks and striations like clouds reflected off a stormy sea.

His own nearsightedness was nowhere near as severe, merely smoothing out the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, smearing the scattering of white hairs back into the milk chocolate curls.

“Cutie.” he smooched the tip of her nose, and she snorted.

“M' a mess, and you know it.”

“Me too. We can be messy today, it's no big deal. Don't know bout you, but I need like, a week of relaxation after all that.”

“Won't get it. But...today for sure. I don't wanna move at all.”

“Got anymore of that oil?”

“Yup. It's next to the water jug. You still smell nice.”

“Yeah, this stuff has some staying power. Not to mention it's all over the bedding now. This room is gonna smell like flowers forever. Oh well, could be worse.”

He stretched like a long cat, all stiff sinews and cracking joints, and she mimicked the action with a huge yawn. Purple bruises dotted them both, minor scrapes and cuts decorating their bodies in forbidden colors.

They gathered breakfast, freshened themselves up a bit, then retired to their borrowed room once more to enjoy themselves.

Swag snagged the little vial of oil, and worked the floral scent into every inch of her skin. He could feel the stiffness and tension in her legs, so much shorter than his own, and paid special attention to her rounded calves. Her bitten lip stifled soft noises, masking her pain in the way a cat might. She wasn't about to drag him all over the country while complaining about her own discomfort.

Helix was pretty used to traveling, and was clearly fairly good at living off the land as well, but she, like himself, had been mostly sedentary for the past near decade or so. They were neither of them in their twenties any longer, and some of their old activities were simply behind them. He sure as shit wasn't parkouring his ass across rooftops nowadays, and not just because he wasn't suuuuuuper fond of heights anymore. And he had long suspected that part of Helix's supernatural grace was just that-supernatural. She used her magic to lighten her steps without even thinking about it. Magic was so ingrained into her everyday life, every breathing moment...

This must really be like losing a limb. And she had barely let any of that pain and frustration show. His Starlight was fuckin' crazy sometimes but also...goddamn. Every now and then he recognized how much steel was in her bones.

“So I'm thinking,” he started, kneading into the tight muscle. “That I might look into the Fighter's Guild soon. Now I don't think I'm ever gonna be the kind of killdozer I've seen walkin' around town, but I could use a brush up on my skills anyhow. And maybe I can pick up some needlework in the downtime. If there's one thing I know we'll need wandering all over the damn place during political unrest, it's cash. Oh, and Teekie says he wants to see your potions. Might be able to get good money off them too.”

“Might, yeah.” She leaned her head against the wall. “We'll want to keep some back for ourselves though. Um, how do you feel about poison?”

“Uh...Not a way I'd like to go. Why?”

“I'm very good at making them. Narci, uh, disapproves, so I keep it all out of sight, but they're useful, and I wanted to know what your thoughts were before I started making any.”

“Oh. Well. Narci's got a really personal reason for all that, and I don't, so I guess it's not a big deal to me. You mean like food, or-?”

“Contact or injection, technically. You put them on a weapon, or throw them at the eyes. Or into food, if you've got that opportunity. I can make all kinds. Bottled bear spray. Things that can make you susceptible to certain kinds of magic. Purgatives. Things that target the vocal chords, paralyze, send you to sleep. All kinds of things.”

She'd left something out, but then, she usually did. But it was practical, wasn't it? To weaken an enemy in any possible way? To take any advantage you had? Refusing to use every resource available to you might seem noble, but just as often left you foolishly dead.

“Seems like a good idea, actually. Give us a leg up on the bears and trolls.”

She brightened up a little at his approval. So she was proud of this skill, even if multiple worlds decried it as something evil.

Poisoncraft and the art of the cane. This wasn't backsliding, was it? Surely not; Helix at least had nowhere to backslide to. She'd never been like him.

At least, he didn't think so.

He'd said that the day was for relaxing, but they were both of the type of personality that couldn't sit still for all that long. Back home, there were movies to watch, conspiracy theory videos to make fun of, video games to play. Their beautiful collaborative farming simulator wasn't gonna curate itself. Sometimes, when he was feeling especially spicy, he would throw on true crime documentaries and entertain her by bitching about how much of an idiot nearly everybody involved actually was.

She really loved it when U.S. got involved with that. Claimed she found it both hilarious and enlightening, but both he and his acidic half-self figured she just liked hearing them agree on things sometimes.

They made sure to 'coincidentally' have free time together for it occasionally. Ever-growing differences aside, they actually were almost always in accord about one thing.

He got restless just a bit before she did, but his fidgeting affected her, and soon they were up and looking for something to do. Swag had spotted what he was sure was a chess board upstairs, but that was a total no go. Helix and strategy games went together like Bligh Reef and the Exxon Valdez. She was so bad at them that it looped from endearing, to frustrating, back to endearing.

Instead, he invited her to show him how she intended to make these poisons for them, and was treated to a goddamn interactive thesis on alchemical theory, as it pertained to this world. He even got to help!

Things were extracted, crystallized, and distilled right before his eyes, and he got to squeeze juice out of mushrooms which was a new and gross experience. And finally, he got confirmation of what the little bottles actually were. Helix formed them directly out of what she called pure 'aetheric energy', which she told him was necessary to hold the magically infused final product. That was why the bottles disappeared after use; once empty, there was nothing to hold the solidified energy in place.

She pulled their misty forms right out of the air, and they sparkled like something from an eighties fantasy movie. She whispered the words of magic over them as they dripped into containment, various oils, tinctures, and decoctions taking on brilliant colors.

It was beautiful. But...

“Is there an easy way to tell these apart from the other potions?”

“Carry them on opposite sides of your belt.” she suggested. “Make sure you always know what you've got.”

“Living dangerously, I see. Okay, what's this one do?” He held up a thin, lime green vial.

“That one paralyzes you for a short time. Whole lifetime, if you're really unlucky. Wanna see? It doesn't hurt.”

She covered the opening with her fingertip and splashed it like a perfume bottle. Then she held her finger out to his lips.

Was she serious? She had that mischievous shine in her face, but he also knew she wouldn't do anything that would hurt him. He licked her fingertip.

And his body stopped moving.

She was right; it didn't hurt at all. He simply couldn't budge. It was a lot like when her natural magic enveloped him in rigidified atoms, and no amount of straining could make him move a micron. Only this was coming from inside, so no straining was even possible.

His eyes were locked on hers, tongue only partially back into his mouth in an expression he was sure must be goofy as hell, while she kept her hand outstretched. A few moments of that unblinking stare revealed that she was as frozen as he was. A few moments more, and the hold on him was broken.

“You knew it was gonna get you too.” he accused.

“Of course! It's a contact poison. But it can also be administered orally, or through the bloodstream. Really versatile. I just thought it would be funny. Consider it a show of my appreciation for your trust in me. I wouldn't do to you what I wouldn't do to myself.”

He grinned as she stoppered the bottle.

“We're both fuckin' crazy.”

“We're in good company then.”

She had her potions in a wide, shallow basket, all neatly organized-by her standards anyway. She definitely had a system, but it was clearly all her own. They hauled the basket upstairs to show their curious Guildmaster.

Teekeeus held the bottles up to the light, swirling them around, making thoughtful sounds. He handed them off to Alberic, who did the same, and then the rest, one by one.

“You have a gift for this.” Teekeeus mused. The others agreed.

“They're very clear. And very bright.” Angalmo said. “You put a lot of effort into preparing the materials, didn't you?”

Swag puffed up at the praise, even if it wasn't for him. Helix deserved it. She always put in so much work, and her results were always spectacular. He sometimes felt he couldn't provide the right kinds of compliments, since he just didn't know the minutiae of magic, and couldn't tell why something she did was great, just that it was.

Just saying 'wow that was neat', didn't seem adequate when he knew she was probably putting in all kinds of details and shit that he wasn't seeing. He should probably stuff his nose back into those philosophy of magic books upstairs. It was a good opportunity to understand her better.

“Would you, perhaps, be open to a trade?” Teekeeus asked, and a frenzy of items began changing hands. Swag saw a big chunk of crystal, some hard to come by alchemy ingredients, some jewelry, and even a few of those precious spellbooks. Everyone seemed in good spirits, which was a sight better than yesterday.

Helix divided up what was left between what she wanted to keep for them, and what she wanted sold, looking deeply satisfied. She'd said they might get a good price for them, but if the endorsement of the entire Mage's Guild was an indication, she could probably build a potion business empire that would sweep the continent. Maybe she didn't have the ruthlessness for that, but he certainly did.

That was why he was in charge of the finances.

They wandered their way into the library, but Helix declined to cuddle in one of the big overstuffed chairs.

“Need to concentrate in order to get this right.” she said, holding up her new spellbooks. She set herself up on the floor, snagging a cushion off one of the chairs instead. He grabbed a book full of magical debates and tried to understand.

He was seriously going to have to rewire his whole brain to get some of this stuff. The magic of this world had stiff rules, had been studied and recorded for thousands of years, and still...what the actual fuck did any of these words mean?

All he was really able to glean from this particular set of debates, was that Necromancy had been banned outright from the Mage's Guild, which, like, good. But wasn't actually illegal in Cyrodiil, which, bad. All that really did was drive Necromancers out of places where they might be easily watched, and out into the countryside, where they might form into groups, where the locals wouldn't be able to handle them, and where their experiments went completely unregulated.

Swag actually agreed with the orc sorceress who proposed that the basics of the school should be known to Guild mages, in order to more actively recognize and fight back against it, and he even felt betrayed when the afternote pointed out that she had been a Necromancer all along. Guess that's why he wasn't a mage. He never felt things should be so black and white, and figured mages would be more flexible, but the Guild was a government body, and had to put its foot down occasionally, it seemed.

But a Necromancy ban was something that would please Helix, and Helix was-

Helix was glowing.

He'd seen it before, the lights in her eyes, leaking from her mouth, and sometimes it evaporated from her body like sweat, but this time the glow was a mist cloud, surrounding her kneeling form, the book she was studying sublimating into it, page by page. The covers disintegrated, and the mist constricted to her body, a magical electroplating. With a burst of light, it was gone, and Helix leaned, disoriented, against the sturdy wood of the bookcase next to her.

So that was why she had chosen the floor. He put his book down and knelt beside her.

“So...was that supposed to happen?”

She mumbled something he didn't quite catch, as he righted her on her pillow, held her hand out, and a net of faint filaments formed to her.

“Take a swing at me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It doesn't have to be hard or anything. I just want to make sure I've got this right.”

He flapped his hand in her general direction. It would have contacted her shoulder, but glanced off to the side instead. She heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I can't tell you how glad I am to be able to do that again! I've felt so naked without my shields!”

The invisible armor that emboldened her to shove into the lives of such dangerous people as they. One step closer to her previous power. He hugged her, and felt the weird, wiggly magic trying to throw him off.

Helix wore those shields on most worlds, and even around most Riddlers, though she'd taken to dropping them on his world. It was a sign of precious and treasured trust, but if she'd kept up that habit, they might not even be here.

“I'm glad for you. Are there spells that can mimic all your magic?”

“Nothing perfect.” she said. “Even this shield is only temporary, and some things could still get through. It's going to be a long time before I can fly again, I'm afraid. And there's nothing that can replicate my bottomless purse. But this is a start. A good start. I really didn't want to have to wear armor. It feels so heavy and clunky on me.”

“I used to have a vest...eh, but I got rid of it a long time ago. After the first time U.S. showed up, actually. I realized it was kinda stupid to keep so much of my old stuff around where anyone...especially me...could get ahold of it.”

“Burned it?”

Swag scoffed.

“Nah, donated it all to a museum! Hell of a tax write-off.”

She laughed, retrieving her other book.

“Okay, you big brain. I'm gonna do this other one outside. It's uh...it's fire.”

Swag glanced around at all the extremely flammable things in the library.

“Yyyyuuuup! Let's go outside. I bet it's a beautiful day.”

?~?~?~?~?

#sartorial sorcery #Swag!Riddler #Riddler Family #elder scrolls

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lilmaravilla · 3 years

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Little Mistakes (The Front Man x Reader)

warnings: mentions of death and some swear words. there are also mentions of a weapon so keep those in mind. key: Y/n = your name. E/c = eye color. H/l = hair length. H/c = hair color.

When y/n heard her work partner Jun-Ho talk about finding his brother, they had never imagined that it would be a dangerous adventure. A dangerous adventure in a place in which people played games and got eliminated by getting killed.

"We're playing with fire here! We can't just come in here pretending we're two guards who know exactly what the fuck they are doing!" y/n exclaimed as they walked next to their partner. Their voice distorted by a mask they had stolen off a dead guard. Well, the mask that Jun-Ho had to steal.

"I told you it was going to be dangerous, did I not? So far we've been doing great and you're only complaining? May I remind you that you were the one who chose to come with me? Listen, everything is going to be okay. I just want us to split up and look for more clues," answered Jun-Ho as he looked down at a masked y/n with a serious look on his face.

"Whatever. Your brother better be here and he better be hot in person, ya hear me?" with a roll of their eyes, y/n nodded at Jun-Ho's request.

"Hot? Why's that?" confusion was written on the poor man's face.

"Yes! I want him to be hot so he can take me out on a date because I helped you look for him. Look at it as some sort of payment," they answered as they began to walk away to another side of the large room. Archives being the only 'decorations' there.

The room was eerily quiet, making y/n feel more uneasy walking down those corridors. A flashlight in their hand as they searched for the certain file of Jun-Ho's brother. The thought, 'Don't get caught' present in their mind.

Ring...Ring... "Front Man speaking. I'm happy to hear you enjoy the game, sir. Yes, sir. The host is currently waiting for the VIPs to arrive," a different distorted voice was heard as a telephone was placed down. Footsteps then began to echo closer to where y/n was standing.

Quickly crouching down, y/n began to look around to find somewhere else to hide. The footsteps only coming closer as they then halted. The room only growing quiet once again until the sound of a gun cocking was heard. "Are you in here right now? You're good but you made one mistake," came the distorted voice once again. "I always put the receiver down the other way."

'The receiver?' y/n thought as it then came to their mind. 'The fucking phone that Jun-Ho touched! I swear if we make it out alive, I will be the one to kill you!'

The Front Man continued to speak about the type of weapon y/n was using and what they had shot with it. Y/n was only distracted by the fact that most of the bullets were from Jun-Ho's gun. At least the Front Man didn't know two cops were roaming around here.

"I got you. Move and it will be the last thing you will ever do." Shit. While y/n was distracted with thoughts about her revolver, she had been caught trying to hide. "Breaking the mask rules was the reason for your death if I am not mistaken. So tell me, Guard, how does it feel to be a ghost?"

Y/n didn't answer as they felt the barrel of a gun pressing against the back of their head. The only movement coming from their body was that of a shiver going down their spine. Other than that, at that moment, not a single limb was moved.

"Turn around and take off your mask. Let me look your ghost in the eyes, Guard," the Front Man spoke with a soft tone. The distortion of the mask making him sound more menacingly. "I want to see the same eyes I saw when my bullet went straight into your head. Show me now!" he yelled with patience not evident in his voice.

With a sudden flinch and lots of hesitation, y/n turned to face the masked man. Gloved hands slowly began to reach towards the mask and in a swift movement, y/n's e/c eyes were revealed.

"Take it all off. I want to see your whole face," the impatient man said as he brought the barrel of the gun towards y/n's forehead.

Quickly, y/n began to take the rest of the suit's mask off. Now revealing their h/l h/c hair, they let out a breath they did not know they were holding in.

The Front Man's eyes were, without a doubt, glued onto the small figure's face, taking in all of their features. Some sort of attraction for them instantly growing.

"There is no doubt you were a great police officer, but your little mistakes were your ruin. Showing up here without a partner was the worst one you could make. Your second mistake was being distracted while trying to hide," the Front Man said as his gun traveled from the top of y/n's forehead to her cheek and then down to underneath her chin. "Or am I wrong, police officer?" he asked and lifted y/n's head with the gun to look into their eyes.

"Keep in mind that I make mistakes but very rarely. You know nothing about me nor how I work, so I advise you to stop talking already. Your mask does not scare me and neither does your gun. Do you want to kill me? Do it, but you have also made a mistake. The mistake of trusting your instincts without having all the information. I hope you figure out why you committed that mistake," y/n said as they had finally gotten the courage to speak to the masked figure. Consequences no longer being a fear of theirs.

"You think I am going to let you off the hook so easily, my dear? Killing you is too easy but not very satisfying. I am going to punish you. I will teach you how to respect me and show you who you are messing with," he said as he began to take his mask off with his free hand. "Does that not sound splendid to you?"

Y/n's eyes widened at the attractive man standing before them. A blush was certainly visible on their cheeks. Their heartbeat was now abnormally fast and their breath hitching at such a fine man. This has got to be a joke. There is no way this man is this handsome.

"What will my punishment be? I am sure I can take it!"

The Front Man only chuckled, a smirk evident on their lips. He slowly leaned in towards Y/n's ear and let out a soft breath.

"You'll see. . . little police officer," he whispered ever so smoothly into their ear.

Author's Note: What do you think should happen next? should i make a part two? what should y/n's punishment be? let me know your ideas <3

#squid game netflix #squid game x reader #squidgame #the front man #front man x reader #hwang jun ho #hwang inho #self insert #x reader #netflix #squid game imagines #squid game guard

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

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white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

“Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit… you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

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spencer-reid-in-a-pool · 3 years

Text

It Was You All Along (Part 7)

Author’s note: So that wasn’t much of a break, but I couldn’t resist! Here is the next installment of the series, featuring a meme I made myself to reflect the vibes of the first half of this part! And yes, it is supposed to be that pixely. It adds spice. Also, I tried to be as vague as possible describing reader’s outfit towards the end so that you could imagine it the way you wanted! As always, feedback is appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy! Link to my ask box!

Tags: @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods @blackjay04 @weaselbee04 @bravelittlesunflower @mxsmwndr

A voice called for me, but I didn’t quite process it. I was too busy trying to fix this gigantic, gaping hole in Geralt’s trousers. Melitele knows if I don’t do it, he would just walk around with it decorating his attire.

The voice called for me again, but this time I ignored it on purpose. If I lost concentration, I would prick myself with the needle...again. And I didn’t really want to turn my fingers into more of a bloody mess than they already were.

I heard footsteps beside me, but I didn’t realize how close they were until a rush of coldness surrounded my body. Not only coldness, but wetness. A bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on me, causing me to scream and drop what I was doing as I stood up in shock.

“Julian!”

His real name still felt unfamiliar on my lips. I had taken to calling him that every so often, usually when I was angry with him, or when I was messing with him. It was for that reason, I think, that he froze so suddenly when I spoke. He wasn’t used to it either, even though he was the one that suggested I start using it more.

The bucket made a small thump sound as it hit the ground beneath us, and Jaskier raised his hands up in an apology. But he also backed away like a scared animal. I almost felt bad for him. Almost, but not quite.

“Now, (Y/N)...I was just trying to get your attention is all. It’s quite important, you see.”

I gathered my skirts in my hands and stomped towards him, scowling and shivering the whole way.

“What could possibly be so important that you couldn’t wait until I was finished? And what made you think dumping cold water on me was a good idea?”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I starting running towards him, my clothes making a sloshing noise against my skin. A string of curse words left his mouth as he took off trying to get away from me. He could be quite fast when he wanted to be. But no way was I going to let him get away from me that easily.

As soon as he picked up speed, so did I. He wove through the trees surrounding our campsite, going in between them like a maze. Eventually we made it back to where we started. My spot was near a tree and the pants I had been working on were visibly in a bunch on the ground. But behind that was the river that I’m assuming the idiot got the water in the first place. I wonder if I could lead him back there... and “accidentally” knock him in.

As luck would have it, I didn’t even have to put that thought into action. He had made his way to the edge of the river, and turned quickly on his heel trying to run away from me again. But he slipped on the muddy bank, and fell right into the water himself.

Coming to a stop, a sharp laugh came from my chest suddenly. And I laughed even harder when he bobbed above the surface, hair sticking to his forehead and his fancy doublet soaked.

“That’s what you get!” I yelled to him between bouts of laughter.

While Jaskier pulled himself out of the water unceremoniously, I heard more footsteps behind me followed by a thud. Geralt must be back. Only one man I know could walk and sit down that heavily.

I turned towards the sound, and sure enough, Geralt was sitting down on the log he had claimed as his earlier. He took one look at me and one look at Jaskier who was now standing on the bank of the river, shivering like his life depended on it.

“I don’t even want to know,” said Geralt with a twitch of his eyebrow and a roll of his eyes.

Night had fallen now. I couldn’t help but reflect on the past few months since that attack at our camp. Things had been pretty boring since then honestly. But I guess I couldn’t complain. Being bored was better than being in danger.

Geralt was asleep and snoring at an unholy volume. This of course caused a glance between Jaskier and I, and sent us into a fit of silent laughter together. The kind of laughter that had your stomach hurting and your mouth open with no sound. The kind that had you grabbing onto your friend for dear life. Which is precisely what the two of us were doing right now. I had such a grip on Jaskier’s arm, I thought he surely must be in pain. But if he was, he made no mention of it and kept laughing with me.

However much time had passed, it seemed to only be a few minutes. And I still had my hand on his arm, although my grip definitely lessened. He didn’t notice this either, and simply looked into the dying flames with dried tears from his laughter on his cheeks. My gaze lingered a moment too long on his cheeks, and I began to think about how gentle his eyelashes looked against his skin as he blinked.

Heat rose in my cheeks and I silently withdrew my hand from his arm. This seemed to catch his attention though.

“Composed yourself now? Don’t need to steady yourself from anymore laughter?”

There was a glint in his eye as he asked me the questions. I had to keep from smiling.

“That depends. Got any jokes?”

He stood suddenly and rested a hand on his chin, making it seem like he was deep in thought.

“You look as if you are composing a new song, Julian.”

“I’m a musician, my dear, I am always composing.”

He paced around the fire, which was even lower than before. The way he took everything so seriously was something that entertained me, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself because of it.

Suddenly, he opened his mouth in a silent “Aha!”

“(Y/N), why must you never use a broken pen?”

I paused for a moment and scrunched my face in thought, trying to come up with an answer. But before I could, he delivered the punch line.

“It’s pointless, darling.”

I snorted at the same time Geralt groaned. The fucker was awake.

Jaskier almost jumped out of his boots at the sudden noise, which only caused me to laugh again. The pain in my stomach from earlier was back, but I couldn’t keep from laughing.

“Have you been awake this whole time, Geralt?” Jaskier yelled in surprise.

“Long enough. Don’t you have anything better to do? Like sleep?”

Jaskier open and closed his mouth a few times before settling on a simple, “Right,” in response. He then took his spot a few feet away from Geralt and laid down for the night.

“Goodnight, Geralt.” Jaskier said with a stifled yawn.

Geralt simply grunted in return, rolling over so his back was facing Jaskier.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Jaskier called in my direction.

“Goodnight, Jaskier. And goodnight Geralt!”

“Hmph,” was all I got in response.

There was a silence over our camp now. But it was too quiet. The kind of quiet that felt like it would be broken at any moment now. Jaskier’s voice was what broke it, of course.

“Goodnight, Roach.”

“Oh, yeah! Goodnight, Roach and Lily!” I called out excitedly.

“How could I forget Lily? Goodnight, Lily!” Jaskier parroted.

“Oh, for the love of-” Geralt groaned loudly, sitting up and gathering his things. He promptly moved farther and farther away from us, settling on a spot under the cover of darkness in the trees.

I snickered to myself as I got my things ready to lay down. Annoying Geralt had become one of our favorite things to do together over the past few months.

It became silent again, and I could hear Jaskier’s even breathing now, signalling that he was asleep. I had the feeling I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Call it instinct, I guess.

I laid down on my back and stared up at the sky. Jaskier and I were closer than ever, and it was so nice. But I needed more. I craved more. They say time heals all wounds, but my heart was still shattered after all these months had gone by. I was still so in love with my best friend that it hurt. Even more than it did before.

Jaskier had been acting differently lately though. He called me more nicknames, and he was even more of a flamboyant disaster than when I first met him. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him with any random women in bars or taverns anymore. Could he-? No. No way. I must be out of my mind.

My fingers instinctively went to the dagger Geralt had given me a while ago. Sometimes I would run my hands along the inscription, trying to remind myself to be brave like it said. I could almost laugh at myself right now. I was being anything but brave when it came to Jaskier.

“Could you please calm your nerves down? I can feel them from over here,” a gruff voice said in the distance. Geralt. Of course.

“Sorry to disturb you. Maybe you should move to another new spot, even farther away. Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. How is Yennefer?”

I didn’t have to have Witcher senses to feel how that comment landed.

Morning came much more quickly than I was hoping it would. It meant today was the day we had to get moving, which meant we would be moving closer to the situation I had been trying to avoid thinking about. The ball.

I seemed to be the last one awake, and I could feel the energy as soon as I had rubbed the sleepiness from my reluctant eyes. Geralt sad brooding in the corner of our camp, and Jaskier was flitting about getting everyone’s things together. It was easy to see who was excited and who was not.

“Today is the day, you sad sack of...sadness,” Jaskier vocalized in regards to Geralt.

“I know. Don’t remind me.”

I almost laughed as I sat up from my spot on the ground. Geralt wasn’t looking forward to this, and truth be told, I wasn’t either. At least part of me wasn’t. The other part couldn’t help being excited in a childlike way. I had never been in a castle before, let alone a ballroom. Although I couldn’t help but feel like I would be out of place, and painfully so.

“Don’t look so excited, Geralt.”

“You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened at the last one.”

I winced and realized that he was right. Although Jaskier had told me some of what happened, I was almost certain that he watered down the events of Pavetta’s betrothal ball in doing so.

The man in question turned to look at me, apparently just now realizing I was awake.

“There you are! Come on, we are losing daylight!”

“Jaskier, do I even really need to come? Geralt is only going to be your body guard, so I don’t really have a purpose.”

“Don’t be silly. You must come! We couldn’t just leave you by yourself for hours at a time. These things do tend to take a while.”

I rolled my eyes and stood, stretching as I did so.

“I am a grown up, you know. I can take care of myself. Afraid I might get kidnapped?”

Jaskier scoffed and continued packing, mostly ignoring my comment. But it was true, I could take care of myself. Geralt had taught me some things with the dagger over the past few weeks, and I felt confident in my abilities.

“Well if I must go, at least be careful with my dress and things. I’m sure Yennefer paid good money for them.”

“The witch probably stole them, more like.”

I watched as Jaskier carefully started packing my things, and tried not to cackle when Geralt made a comment about shoving his foot somewhere it didn’t belong in reference to Jaskier.

Today was going to be quite...something.

Since we had done most of the travelling yesterday, what was left for today didn’t take long. We made it to the castle in no time it seemed.

Lily and Roach were tied up in the stables, in the same stall actually. I was quite happy that the stable master was willing to do that. They always seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

I sat in my borrowed room getting ready, and I was assuming that Geralt and Jaskier were in their own rooms doing the same thing. But that thought was at the back of my mind now as I looked at myself in the mirror. Or at least, what I think was myself. I didn’t really recognize the woman staring back at me.

Yennefer had picked out the most beautiful, elegant, and intricate floor-length ballgown I could ever imagine. It was sleeved as well, with lace adorning them to match the bodice. The skirt was made of layers on layers, it seemed, and with every move I made it swished gently to follow. It was even in my favorite color. I wonder how she knew? I don’t remember telling her...

She had also gotten me some jewelry to match, and the metals and gems complimented my skin tone perfectly. How did she know all this? I had only met her once, and it was very briefly. I would have to thank her for all this later.

Not long after I had finished getting dressed, jeweled, and made up, a knock sounded at my door.

“Come in,” I called.

Jaskier entered in his outfit for the night. It was a dark, silky purple with golden accents along the doublet’s center, and my breath hitched in my throat when I saw him in the reflection of the mirror I sat in front of.

“You look breathtaking, darling,” he said in a whisper as he approached me.

Hopefully he didn’t notice the blush creeping up the sides of my neck. I don’t think I would ever get used to his names for me.

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Compare that to when you fell into the water yesterday and looked like a dying animal, you basically are a different person.”

Jaskier feigned anger, but I could tell he was amused.

“Do you like your clothes? I made sure to tell Yennefer all your favorite colors and shiny things.”

My heart skipped a beat. He had told her all of that? I didn’t even know that he knew those things about me.

I stood before really thinking about what I was doing, and turned to face him, the shock evident on my face.

“You told her all that? I didn’t know that you knew such trivial facts about me...Thank you.”

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“Of course I know. And it was no problem. I had to make sure she didn’t dress you in an unflattering way.”

I tilted my head in thought, almost as a reflex, and it caught his attention.

“What are you thinking about, (Y/N)?” Jaskier asked me quietly with a crooked smile.

“I seem to be thinking about everything and nothing at once...but I am mostly wondering how you convinced the people hosting this ball to let me in. Geralt is your security, of course, I get that. But how did you get me in? I’m no one special.”

He was silent for a moment and stared at a spot past me, for almost so long I didn’t think he would reply. But then he did, with an odd look on his face that showed happiness and some other emotion I didn’t recognize.

“I told them you were my muse. A musician cannot perform without their muse.”

My mouth twitched as if to fall open in shock. but I didn’t let it. I didn’t want him to see how this affected me.

“I’m your what?”

“My muse. You know, inspiration?”

I shook my head furiously, matching the speed at which my heart was beating.

“I know what it means. But why did you tell them that? You couldn’t have come up with a better excuse to get me in here? You didn’t have to lie to them.”

You couldn’t have come up with a better excuse in order to keep me from getting my hopes up?

He looked at me with a smile. But it was a pained smile. Then for a second, it looked like he might speak. Until Geralt passed by the open door way and told Jaskier it was time to go. The crowd was waiting on him.

I stood frozen in the same spot I had been in, and I watched them leave. First Geralt, then Jaskier following behind him. At the last second before leaving the doorway, he stopped, placing a hand on the frame.

Finally he turned to me, and looking over his shoulder, he simply said:

“I didn’t lie.”

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nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I sit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So have I.”

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

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

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

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

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry?”

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

“Why are you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And which ones are those?”

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

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

“Did she really?”

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

“I’m sure that's not true.”

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

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

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

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

“I’ll try my best.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So do I, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

He left his door open all day everyday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years

Text

Our Time || One shot

Summary: Douxie’s remembering the good old times.

Warnings: angst, mention of character death, that's it I think?

Word count: 1,735

Everything was set. The lanterns were hung up on the trees nearby, providing light to Douxie for the night. The campfire was crackling just a couple of feet away from the round dining table and chairs that Douxie had set up not too long ago. The plates were also ready on the table, waiting to be filled with food.

Douxie magicked up a bouquet of roses, and placed them in the vase that was in the middle of the table.

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap behind him. He quickly spun around, staff and bracelet ready, only to see Archie looking up at him in his cat form.

"You seriously thought that I was danger?" Archie questioned with an eyebrow raised.

Douxie magicked his staff away and deactivated his bracelet, "Hehe… yes."

Archie rolled his eyes at his familiar's response, "Do you not remember that you put a ward around this whole area?"

Douxie just shrugged and went back to doing last minute preparations.

After a few minutes of silence, Archie cleared his throat to gain Douxie's attention.

"Yes, Arch?" Douxie asked, turning his gaze to the cat.

Archie pointed to the two figures in the distance heading towards them.

Douxie's eyes widened at how time flew by quickly. He didn't even have time to get changed!

He quickly got behind a tree and used a spell he had recently learned, and changed into a black dress shirt (sleeves rolled up of course), black pants and shoes, keeping his signature skull necklace.

He stepped out from the tree to see Archie fly away. His eyes wandered around until they landed on both you and Jim getting closer. You were wearing a stunning black A-line lace dress that went down to your knees with half laced sleeves and beige heels.

You were blindfolded as Douxie had requested Jim to do to you so you had a surprise.

Douxie could hear you complain to Jim how you didn't like being blindfolded. Jim just rolled his eyes at your antics and told you that all would be revealed in a matter of moments.

Douxie walked up to you two siblings and took you from Jim.

"Thank you, Jim. I'll take her from here," Douxie smiled and took your shoulders.

"No problem, Doux! Tell me the end result!" Jim waved and walked off.

"Douxie, where in the world am I?" you asked.

"Shhh. Be patient, love. All will be revealed," Douxie reassured.

After a few moments, the blindfold on your eyes was taken off.

You took in your surroundings. The trees were decorated with lanterns, a dining table was set and a campfire was already lit. Everything was beautiful.

You spun around to see Douxie holding out a rose for you to take, which you, without a doubt, accepted.

"Shall we, m'lady?" Douxie inquired, holding his arm out.

You nodded and you let him take you to the table.

~~~~~

Douxie had prepared f/f for dinner, and for dessert, an apple pie.

Now, the two of you were quietly sitting on a blanket at the campfire, leaning on each other.

"Love?" Douxie asked.

You hummed in response, letting him know he had your attention.

"Remember the first time we met? I had spilled a drink on the ground in the cafe and you rushed to help," Douxie remembered.

"Yeah," you nodded, memories flooding back.

~~~~~

You anxiously tapped your feet on the ground, waiting for your order to arrive.

You were in a big rush.

Mom had called to tell you that Jim was in the hospital. You knew that he was the Trollhunter, so he had gotten a lot of injuries, though, he didn't need to go to the hospital to get them treated, so you knew that this was serious.

Abruptly, you heard a crash from behind you. You turned around to see a drink had spilled all over the floor. The waiter was already on his knees, trying to clean it up.

You got up from your seat and ran over to help him. You kneeled in front of the guy to hear him faintly say, "Fuzzbuckets". You saw a faint sky blue spark come from his hand.

A wizard.

You placed a hand on his arm, making him look up into your e/c eyes. You mouthed ‘no’ and shook your head, telling him not to perform the spell. He stopped and sighed before cleaning up the mess the old fashioned way with your help.

After helping him, you returned to your seat.

Just when you were about to leave, getting fed up of the wait, the same waiter you had helped rushed up to you, order in hand.

"Hey! You were the one who helped me with the spill a couple of minutes ago, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," you nodded and then added quietly, "And the one who stopped you from using magic as a shortcut."

You smiled and took your order from him. You headed out but got stopped by the same guy.

"Hey, I never got your name. I'm Hisirdoux Casperan, but you can call me Douxie," Douxie winked and held out his hand for a handshake.

"Y/n, Y/n Lake," you replied, shaking his hand. "I'm really sorry, but I really need to go."

He nodded understandingly and waved goodbye.

As you walked to the hospital, you opened the bag that had your food in it, as well as a note. You took it out and read it:

Hey, stranger, who I probably got the name of!

I was wondering if you would grab a bite with me tomorrow at the cafe. 4 pm sharp.

Don't be late.

Yours truly,

Hisirdoux Casperan.

You smiled. You had finally found a fellow magic wielder.

~~~~~

"Then, the time when Jim got a bit overprotective of you when you were at the bookstore."

"A bit?"

"Okay, extremely overprotective of you."

~~~~~

The sun was shining high in the sky, your hair moving along with the gentle breeze, and a nice cup of coffee in your hands while you and Jim made your way to GDT Arcane Books.

Jim opened the door to reveal Archie, Douxie's familiar lying on the ground near the fireplace.

"Hey, Archie!" you greeted.

"Hello," Archie called.

You turned your attention away from the cat and to Jim, who was looking around in suspicion.

"Jim, what is it now?" you asked, placing your hand on your brother's shoulder.

"It's just… why does this store seem so… magical?" Jim inquired.

"Because a magical being owns the bookstore," you replied.

Jim nodded in response.

"Hello!" a new voice spoke.

You turned around to see Douxie coming out of the back. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jim's gaze harden at the sight of the wizard. He pulled you a bit closer to him.

Overprotective brother mode switched on.

"Hey, Doux. Did you call us in for some help?" you inquired.

"Yep! There's only so much a 900 year old wizard can do by himself," Douxie nodded.

Douxie told you and Jim what he needed help with.

Jim was sent off to get some supplies from around town, to his dismay. He wanted to keep an eye on you and Douxie, but alas, he had to go shopping.

Before Jim had left, you heard him send a death threat to Douxie.

"Don't do anything funny with my sister, Casperan. I won't hesitate to slice your head off with Daylight."

Your eyes widened. You knew Jim didn't like Douxie, but you didn't know that he hated him so much to actually threatened him.

Geez. He's way too overprotective.

You made your way over to Douxie as soon as Jim left the store.

"Don't mind him. He's just overprotective," you told Douxie.

"Uh-huh," Douxie nodded slowly.

~~~~~

"We know each other so well, made so many wonderful memories, we've spent so much time together," Douxie sighed. "And I want to spend more time with you."

You turned your head towards him, silently asking him to elaborate.

Douxie moved away and got up. He lent you his hand, which you accepted and followed suit. He took a deep breath and got down on one knee.

"Y/n, love, we've been through so much together. Good and bad. Sad and happy. And I'll continue to. You made me the most happiest man when you became my girlfriend and I thought I couldn't be any happier. But today may prove me wrong," Douxie expressed.

You gasped and clasped your hand over your mouth as Douxie took out a golden ring with embroidery and held it out.

"Y/n Lake… make me the happiest man in the world. Will you marry me?"

You had tears in your eyes at this point. Douxie looked at you with hope, love, admiration, and so much more as he waited for your answer.

"Yes."

Douxie's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, and quickly got up. He grabbed your waist and brought you close. He leaned down and softly kissed you as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

~~~~~

Douxie stared at the photo of you two on your wedding day. You were wearing a short lace white dress and beige ankle strap heels and Douxie was wearing a white dress shirt, black tuxedo, black tie, black pants and a rose attached on the left as you two stood in front of each other, hand in hand while Douxie was kissing your forehead.

Douxie placed the photo back and glanced down at his wedding ring. It was simple, a silver band with swirl embroidery as you had the same, but gold. He remembered the feeling of your hand in his. Your giggling. Everything. But alas, ever since you had passed in battle, he couldn't seem to bring any of those memories back.

Tears formed in Douxie's eyes as he remembered the good times.

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Jim and Claire.

"Hey, Teach. What were you--" Claire started before she noticed the tears streaming down his face.

Douxie wasn't going to cry but as soon as he saw the wedded couple, he couldn't help himself.

Jim and Claire rushed over to Douxie and enveloped the wizard in a hug, attempting to comfort him. He sobbed into Jim's chest as Jim ran his hand through his hair and Claire rubbing Douxie's back.

Nothing was going to be the same without you.

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willowcrowned · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Time Travel AU - Flavor: Anakin and Obi-Wan, from ROTJ to TPM

I asked, you guys answered. Here it is: Obi-Wan and Anakin get sent back to TPM after ROTJ, and proceed to confuse everyone. In everyone’s defense, Anakin and Obi-Wan have a lot of confusing trauma.

The thing about being dead is that it’s not quite as restful as everyone made it out to be.

Oh, Obi-Wan is sure that if he’d done the irresponsible thing and ignored Qui-Gon and passed properly into the netherworlds of the Force instead of following his bloody Path of the Whills, he would be perfectly happy floating along as part of the larger universe. And alright, he doesn’t regret doing it because Luke desperately needed the help, what with Yoda’s isolation having made him only more reticent, but it’s still annoying. Because even though he watched Anakin toss Sidious down a reactor shaft and die peacefully in his sons arms before moving on, the next phase of existence looks a whole lot like the Healer’s Ward at the Jedi temple forty years ago, and he’s being stared at by one very alive-looking Mace Windu.

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan says, because being dead is no excuse for being impolite. “Whose idea was it to decorate like this? I find it rather gauche.”

One also very alive looking Vokara Che sends him a warning look. “Large windows and pale colors are beneficial to the health of patients.”

“Oh, I think we’re rather past the need for worrying about our health,” Obi-Wan jokes.

Vokara just gives him a confused and suspicious look. “Are you alright, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan feels hysterical laughter bubble up inside him. He’s dead. He watched the Jedi fall, felt their deaths like they were his own and heard the Force crying out at the pain and wrongness of it all; he disfigured— attempted to kill— one of the few people he had ever loved, fully and unconditionally, and felt the attempt rend him further apart in the process, and then he watched as that person twisted themself into a horrible facsimile of what they once were; he hid for twenty years on a desert planet while slowly detaching himself from his physical body so he could train and advise a child on whom he pinned nearly all his hopes; he was killed by Vader, and then watched Luke save him— save the man Obi-Wan couldn’t— and saw Vader kill Sidious, and then die. And now— now— he has finally passed on, expecting rest and peace, only to wake up in the healer’s ward of a temple that was destroyed.

Obi-Wan laughs, sharp and harsh and slightly deranged. “No,” he says, “I am not.”

“Yeah,” says a voice from next to him, “I get that.”

Obi-Wan turns to see Anakin— wait, no. Obi-Wan turns to see an unharmed Anakin— well, not quite. Obi-Wan turns to see Anakin, alive, unharmed, whole... and all of nine years old.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised. He’d assumed that this odd make-believe healer’s ward was a result of the Path of the Whills— a journey that Anakin had decidedly not undertaken.

“Yep,” Anakin says crossing his arms. “So, this is what being dead is like? I’d assumed it would be less, uh,” he searches for the word, “medical.”

“It could be a construct,” Obi-Wan suggests, “while our consciousnesses slowly dissipate— a waystation of sorts. Of course,” he frowns, “that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Excuse me,” Mace Windu says, very on-edge, “but what exactly are you two talking about?”

“Ugh,” Anakin complains, lying back, “why is he here?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, acerbic, “I wonder why he could be here, what with that fall you gave him.”

Anakin flushes, embarrassed. “Fair point.”

“So,” Obi-Wan turns to Mace Windu, “where are we exactly?”

Windu raises an extremely suspect eyebrow. “You’re in the Healer’s Ward at the Jedi temple on Coruscant.”

“Well, yes,” Obi-Wan says, a touch exasperated, “but where are we?”

Windu frowns at him.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says, “I don’t think he knows what you mean.”

Windu casts an evaluating glance at Anakin. “No, I don’t.”

Obi-Wan gives him a curious look before turning back to Anakin. “Perhaps he’s part of the construct.” He pauses. “Speaking of, why have you chosen to look like that?”

“Like what?” Anakin blinks confused.

“Like—” Obi-Wan huffs. “Does anyone have a mirror?”

“There’s one in the fresher,” Vokara Che says.

Anakin hops out of bed, and after a moment, Obi-Wan follows him to the fresher.

“Oh sweet stars and suns,” Anakin breathes, looking at his ten year old face. “I really used to look like this?”

Obi-Wan looks in the mirror as well, shocked to find that he looks as he did when he was twenty, padawan braid and all. “You know, I’m actually very glad that I’m never going to have to try to unpack the psychological implications of this,” he remarks.

Anakin snorts. “Yeah, why’d you choose to look like that?”

“I... didn’t,” Obi-Wan realizes. Before, he’d been able to change his appearance to living beings. He hadn’t for Luke, partially because Luke probably wouldn’t have taken very well to a thirty year old Obi-Wan, and partially because there wasn’t a point, given that Force ghosts didn’t get creaky knees.

“Weird,” Anakin says.

They head out of the fresher to see that Vokara Che and Mace Windu are looking at them as if they’ve grown second heads.

“So let me unpack this,” Windu says, “you both think you’re dead.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan look at each other.

“We have reason to believe so, yes,” Obi-Wan replies, amused. “Are you going to try to convince us that we’re not?”

Windu raises one very unimpressed eyebrow. “I would think that even a padawan would be able to look into the Force to see that they’re not dead.”

Obi-Wan looks at Anakin, who shrugs. It seems that neither of them have allowed themselves to be very connected to the Force. It must be a force of habit— Obi-Wan had been careful on Tatooine to never let too much of the outside filter in, for fear of Vader finding him, and for fear that the dark currents in the Force would sweep him away. Perhaps Vader had done a similar thing.

“Shall we?” Obi-Wan suggests to Anakin. At this point, it’s likely that this is the construct telling them both that they need to connect to the Force to finally relinquish their consciousnesses.

Anakin shrugs. “Can’t make things worse, right?”

Obi-Wan snorts. “On three?”

Anakin nods.

“One, two, three.”

Obi-Wan drops his outer shielding, letting the Force filter through.

What he feels isn’t the ethereal, ineffable currents of the Force, calling him to drift among them as they had during his time as a Force ghost. What he feels is thousands of bright lights, sparks where there should be void, and a darkness that has surrounded everything but not yet consumed it.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathes. “Anakin, I’m not sure we’re dead.”

Anakin doesn’t say anything back, and Obi-Wan turns to see him crying.

“They’re alive,” Anakin whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, face frozen in wonder and horror and guilt. “They’re all alive.”

Obi-Wan can feel them— every single one— and a lump rises in his throat. “It’s—” he starts, but he can’t finish the sentence. “We—”

Anakin nods, face still frozen. “How?”

“I—” Obi-Wan shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

“We were— you were—”

“I know.”

“And now they’re—” Anakin takes a deep breath, small body shuddering, and Obi-Wan instinctively gathers him up in his arms, holding him close.

“It’s impossible,” Obi-Wan says. “You were dead. I was dead. I felt it.”

“Luke,” Anakin chokes, “We—”

“We’re alive,” Obi-Wan says hoarsely. “The Jedi are alive— none of it has to happen.”

“Mustafar,” Anakin adds, hoarse. “Padmé.”

“The Death Star. Alderaan.” Obi-Wan says in a dark undertone. Then, louder, “I will be very cross if I get chopped in half again.”

Anakin frowns at him, momentarily distracted. “The blow didn’t hit. I should know. You have nothing to complain about.”

“I have nothing to complain about?” Obi-Wan replies, indignant. “I was on Tatooine for twenty years!”

“You cut off my arms and legs!” Anakin shouts.

Obi-Wan huffs. “Only three!”

“I was stuck in a stupid life-support suit for twenty! Fucking! Years!” Anakin retorts. “Do you know how much that sucked? I couldn’t eat real food! I fucking suffocated just because I took off my helmet to see my son in my last breaths!”

“You killed me!” Obi-Wan shouts indignantly.

There’s a cough from beside him, and a silence as Vokara Che, Mace Windu, and several very nosy padawans stare at him.

Obi-Wan looks at them, slightly embarrassed by his outburst. “I got better.”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan, the rage in his eyes not Vader’s, but Anakin’s, and then slowly, slowly, it dissipates.

Anakin snorts. “Fuck, we made a mess of things.”

A small, sad, smile creeps on to Obi-Wan's face. “We really did.” He sighs. “I suppose we’ll have to fix everything.”

Anakin shrugs. “Well, Sith Lords are our specialty.” He sighs. “And then I’m retiring on Naboo and learning to fish.”

#i know at first glance this looks like a very normal AU #but keep an eye out for the next post #which is about what happens AFTER they get rid of sidious #it devolves into my usual brand of nonsense VERY quickly #obi-wan and anakin ignore their trauma by quipping (as usual)#don't worry i'm sure they start going to therapy off screen #sugar baby ben au #star wars #willow's aus #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

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ronnie-azumane · 3 years

Text

Rebound

Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader 18+

NSFW, IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

Warning: mentions of breakup, cunnilingus, 1 photo taken (nature of which is slightly nonconsensual), aftercare

A/N: So, uhh, these past few months have been wack in regards to my love life. I went from breaking off an almost 2-year long distance relationship, to proclaiming that I’m gonna have a hoe phase on Tinder, to actually meeting a guy who I actually like (who knew I would have a successful Tinder relationship?!?!)…….. soooooooo

ALSO-- this is my first (serious) smut I've ever written. Please be kind.

ALSO ALSO-- if this gets enough love, I might make this concept into a full-blown fic

You did everything right. You made time for him. You gave him gifts. You sent him both a good morning and a goodnight text every day. You fulfilled his needs, even when it didn't necessarily benefit you.

Or so you thought.

If you didn't answer that butt-dial from him and heard the pants and moans coming from his end, you would have lived happily in ignorant bliss. If you didn't go to check on him to see if he was ok, you wouldn't be in the predicament you found yourself in currently.

Now you find yourself, wrapped in blankets, crying on his neighbor's couch.

Your boyfriend would always complain about his next door neighbor Tetsurou Kuroo, how he would be the reason your boyfriend got in trouble with loud music and smoking with the landlord. However, despite your boyfriend's hatred of him, you grew close to the rooster head, becoming proper friends and not the girl who apologizes after every night she gets a little loud. He didn't approve of this friendship, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

Now that he's your ex, there is absolutely nothing he could do about it.

"So you walked in and saw him banging his coworker?" Tetsurou asked, placing a glass of cold water into your hand. Your body shook as you lifted the glass up to your lips to take a sip. You then set the glass down on the side table.

"Yes, and it was the one he told me not to worry about." you stuttered. You didn't care much for that coworker. She always seemed to weasel her way into your relationship. Date nights were cut short by her calling your [now ex] boyfriend to help her with a problem. He always seemed to be texting or calling her, and when you would ask why, he would just say 'work' and close his phone so you couldn't see. You would express your concern, but he would assure you that he only had eyes for you.

What bullshit.

Your wails of agony have since subsided to small sniffles. Your breathing was still rapid and without control, but for the most part you were calming down.

Then your phone went off, sounding a text tone that you had specifically saved for your now ex boyfriend.

As you reach for your phone, Tetsurou grabs a hold of it.

"Gimmie that," you whine.

"Password," Tetsurou demands.

"W-what? I'm not just gonna give-"

"Password!" Tetsurou demands even louder. Sighing, you tell him your password and he unlocks your phone. He reads over the text your ex sent you, talking about how you didn't know the whole story and scoffs. He taps on your phone a bit and gently tosses it on the couch cushion next to you as she sits himself down.

"Blocked him for you. He was going on about how you don't know the whole story and that this was the first and only time he messed up. Newsflash, I'm his neighbor, and the girl he has been with the last few weeks definitely wasn't you."

"Oh," you sniffle. So your suspicions were correct. This had been going on for quite a bit. "If you knew, why didn't you tell me earlier?" you asked Tetsurou.

"Well, honestly, I just put the pieces together this morning," Tetsurou replies. The walls are thin, so he could hear every gasp and moan that happened on the other side. He figured it was you, since you were his girlfriend after all. He would just turn on a show and watch it to tune out the love making on the other side of the wall. However, when he didn't receive the usual sorry note under the door that you would write, he knew something was up. The amount of times he would have to turn on his show wasn't going down, but the amount of the little notes he received was.

"You know, I don't think he ever loved me," you say, turning away from Tetsurou. "I honestly think he only liked the idea of me." The waterworks started to flow again.

"I tried so hard, you know? I know he didn't treat me the best, but I stuck with it because I thought he truly loved me," you sob into your hands. You smash your palms into your eyes as you cry out, as if you are trying to stop the tears coming out of your eyes. But they don't stop. If anything, they start to flow out faster.

"What did I do wrong?"

As soon as that question escaped your lips, Tetsurou pulled you into his lap and pressed you head against his chest. You cried even harder, balling his tear-soaked t-shirt in your clenched fists. He ran his nails across your scalp, lightly scratching it in an attempt to calm you down. Usually you would tell him to stop so as to not mess up your hair, but hair was the last thing on your mind at the moment. His other hand was rubbing your back, grounding you from the emotions racking your body at the moment.

"You did nothing wrong," he whispered over and over again in your ear, repeating until you calmed back down. He reached across from you and grabbed the glass of cold water and placed you off of his lap.

"Please drink up, I think you cried half of your water weight in the past 30 minutes alone," he joked, earning a small giggle from you. "I hate to leave you alone, but I'm going to change real fast and get you some bubble tea from that place down the street you like. Sound like a plan?" He asked, earning a nod from you.

With that, he stood up and left to go change and get some tea. You sat back on the couch and watched the door close shut. Now you were alone.

You had been in his apartment a couple times before, but now you were truly looking around at his décor. He didn't have much hanging on his walls, but he had a few pictures here and there. One was of his old volleyball team from high school. He stood in the middle with his red number 1 jersey sticking out for all to see that he was the captain.

Another picture he had on the wall was a picture of a small girl in his arms. After recalling a couple of conversations the two of you had, you remembered that he did have an older sister who had a daughter of her own. His niece.

Her short black hair was sticking up into two little pigtails, each decorated with a small pink bow. Her fluffy pink dress contrasted beautifully with the black dress shirt Tetsurou was wearing. Both of their smiles reached their ears.

He looked pretty good.

You sit there thinking, realizing only now that Tetsurou, the 'nasty neighbor' of your ex boyfriend, your friend, was pretty attractive. How come he didn't have a girlfriend of his own? Did he maybe swing the other way? You shook that thought out of your head when you remembered the stories he would tell of his high school sweetheart.

What happened to her?

While you're lost in thought, you don't hear the front door opening up.

"Here!" Tetsurou shouts, scaring the living daylights out of you. In one hand he's holding two cups of tea with the little tapioca balls at the bottom, and in the other are two straws. You sigh in relief as he sits down next to you, handing you your tea and straw.

"Tetsurou, what ever happened to that girl you dated in high school?" you ask as you stab the straw through the plastic.

"Oh, Alisa? It wasn't too brutal. Our futures were going in different directions and we just fell out of love," he shrugged as you sipped some tea and a few balls of tapioca.

The silence is deafening. Every time you glance at him, you shutter. 'How did I not see how hot he is earlier?' you scold to yourself.

The longer you look at him, the more you get worked up. Your eyes travel downwards to his neck. His Adams apple is sticking out, not too much, but just the perfect amount. They continue downward to his arms, which are framed beautifully by the cotton t-shirt he's wearing. His veins twist across his muscular arm and down to his hands.

Oh god his hands! The roughness of the veins popping out contrast with the smooth, even coloring of his skin. light callouses dot his palms, but for the most part, his hands are soft. perfect for caressing-

Not paying attention, you start to choke on a tapioca pearl. Coughing and wheezing, and with a little help from Tetsurou, you get it out of your windpipe. You pull the straw a little higher to avoid any more tapioca at the moment to catch your breath.

"You alright?" Tetsurou asks, and you nod a little too frantically. He squints his eyes and stares at you for a little bit, seeking confirmation that you're actually ok and not lying to him. Pursing your lips together in a sort-of smile, he takes that as the confirmation he needs and moves back to his drink.

The way he sips on the straw, how his soft, supple lips form around the straw and suck. The way the tea he's drinking dribbles down his chin just a little bit. The way he moves his thumb over his chin to wipe it up.

It shouldn't be getting you this worked up.

"So, is there anything you want to do now?" Tetsurou asked, reaching for the remote as if to imply that they should watch something on the TV. The way his arm flexes as he reaches across you.

You can't take it anymore.

"I want you to fuck me!" you blurt. As soon as the words left your lips, your hands shot up to cover your mouth.

Now it is his turn to choke on his tea. He drops the remote and it breaks apart on the wooden floor. Your hands migrate from your mouth to cover your face. This has to be the most embarrassing moment in your life.

"W-what?" Tetsurou asked, finally catching his breath. You keep your hands on your face, as if they are glued in place. The last thing you want is to look at him, much less in the eye.

"Ju-just ignore what I said! It's not important!" you frantically wave your hands around, hoping maybe they can help you fly away from the current situation.

Alas, you are merely human, and must suffer through the consequences of your actions.

Frantically, you shoot up from your seat, mumbling a string of farewells as you walk toward the door. However, you do not make it far, as you find your hand encapsulated in Tetsurou's as he yanks you back onto your spot on the couch.

"You can't just leave after saying something like that," Tetsurou mumbles. His ears are burning bright red while his cheeks are dusting a soft pink.

"Don't worry about it, I'll just download tinder and relive my frustrations there," you stutter, trying to stand up. However, under Tetsurou's grip and stare, your attempts are rendered futile. Fully realizing the situation, you sigh and throw your head back against the back of the couch.

"Fine," you mumble, blushing, "sorry for making you uncomfortable, I definitely did not mean to say that out loud."

Silence.

Unsure of what to do, you start to explain yourself.

"I'm just so frustrated, and I just wanted to... you know... get him back, like an eye for an eye type of deal," yo ramble on.

Tetsurou dropped his head into the palms of his hands, nodding his head left and right.

"And while you were gone, I kinda realized how attractive you were and i-"

"I never said I wouldn't, did I?" Tetsurou asked, not lifting his face out of his hands.

With that statement, the air is sucked out of your lungs. Your heart beats faster in your chest, while simultaneously wrapping itself tight within your body.

"No, uh, you don't have t-"

""Honestly, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to... for a while now," Tetsurou admitted, "So I'll do it, my only rule being that we won't go all the way today."

You press your fists into your plush thighs. "Why not? You literally just admitted that you were attracted to me," you ask.

"Because I don't want to give myself false hope."

"Why would fucking give y-" you tried to ask before Tetsurou interrupted your interruption.

"You just broke up with your long time boyfriend, a messy break-up I may add. Your emotions are all over the place. I really like you, (y/n), I just don't want to be your rebound. I want to be with you because you truly like me, not to get back at your shitty ex next door." He let out, like a breath held underwater.

"Oh," you whisper. He made a great point. What were your intentions right now? Was this all a ploy to get revenge on your ex? Did you actually like Tetsurou that way?

Did it really matter?

"So what?" you ask, stunning Tetsurou into silence.

Tetsurou swallows the lump in his throat and asks you to clarify.

"Well, there is a mutual attraction, and we both clearly want this, why don't we just go for it and see what happens?" you ask.

The pause is long and silent. Tetsurou’s eyes were looking everywhere but at you. Did he actually want this? Yes, but in this way? He took a glance in your direction and saw you still staring down at your tea, swiveling the ice around in circles.

You were definitely a sight for sore eyes in Tetsurou’s ever so humble opinion. The way your face was tinted the slightest red color made his heart melt. He would never forgive his neighbor for what he did to you, making your larger than life personality look small and meek.

Overwhelmed with feelings of both attraction and adoration, he simply couldn’t help himself. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this, but after all this time of him secretly crushing on her from a distance, he just couldn’t hold out anymore.

He grabbed your face and turned it toward him, crashing his lips onto yours.

The kiss became more feverish as the seconds passed. A simple peck turned into moments of locking lips, trying to taste each other.

His lips were thin, however soft, with the slight sting of mint chapstick tingling your tongue. You decided to take initiative and slipped your tongue out to taste his bottom lip. He took the signal and included his tongue in the dance, the two muscles stroking together as he grasped the hair on the back of your head and pulled you closer.

As the make-out session continued, the two of you started to position yourselves on the couch; you lying against the armrest and him balancing himself on top of you. Once in this position, his hands started to wander across your body.

Every curve of yours was not left without attention. His hands traveled from behind your head to your chest, from your chest to down your stomach, from your stomach to your thighs, and finally spread your thighs apart to gain access to your covered core, where you wanted to feel his hands the most.

His kisses started trailing south to the crook of your neck, moving from kissing to sucking as he started to rub your clothed slit. An airy gasp escaped your lips, enjoying all the sensations you were feeling at the moment. Once he was satisfied by the purple bruise left just above your collarbone, he started to sit up, causing you to whine from the loss of contact.

Your whining soon stopped however when you noticed him grabbing at your shorts, working to pull them down. As he started to pull down, your breath got caught in your throat, causing it to be held in. Flinging your shorts and panties behind him, he gently kissed your thigh and asked, “Do you still want this, you seem a little tense?”

“Yes!” you gasp a little too fast. His breath was so warm against your wet pussy, teasing you to the point of no return.

“Ok, you have to let me know if you get too overwhelmed or want to stop at any point,” he says before diving down. You are about to acknowledge him until a heavy gasp escapes your lips before you can give your confirmation.

Tetsurou didn’t hesitate going down on you. He simply couldn’t wait any longer. Simply pumping his fist wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

He started to kiss, flick, and suck at your clit, making you breathe harder with the rising pleasure. His movements were soft and light, but they were shaking your very core. He grabbed your thighs and placed them over his shoulders, giving him more access.

His movement was simple, something you could easily replicate with your fingers and maybe a quality toy, but that didn’t change how it was working on you. Your heavy breaths turned into soft whimpers as the pleasure began to bubble up.

You were progressing nicely, but Kuroo didn’t think it was progressing fast enough. To remedy his frustrations, he rubbed his fingers against your wetness, slicking it up to start thrusting into you.

The anticipation of his fingers slipping into you made your whimpers louder. He switched up his mouth to sucking your clit between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue and slowly inserted a finger. He pressed the pad of his finger against the ceiling and started to thrust in and out, rubbing against the entirety of your g-spot softly.

This new sensation had you bucking your hips and bubbling over with pleasure, pretty much ripping the orgasm out of you. Tetsurou smiled as you rode out your orgasm, moaning and whimpering small vowel sounds.

The orgasm was nice, but Tetsurou knows you can be louder, he's definitely heard you get louder at least.

Before you can fully recover from your high, his lips reattach to your clit and insert two fingers into you. The moan that escaped your lips was loud and almost pornographic. He smirked, knowing your shit ex next store most likely heard it.

Although, he knew that the fun this round was only just beginning.

Instead of thrusting his fingers in and out, he started to press his fingers up against you, as if he was motioning for you to come here.

The new motion of his fingers mixed with his lips sucking and tongue flicking at your clit was causing you to sprint to the edge way too fast. You couldn’t hold back your moans by control alone, so you bit the back of your hand in an attempt to suppress the noise.

Tetsurou was having none of that today. Using his other hand, he rips your arm away from you, silently implying that he wants to hear how loud you were being.

You try to ground yourself by grasping the armrest behind you, although that doesn’t do much to stop yourself from the orgasm that's rising far too quickly.

Your moans are getting louder and louder as you get closer and closer. Tetsurou has you teetering on the edge as his movement gets faster and faster. Soon your coil snaps and you find yourself cumming harder than you ever have before.

You thrash your head side to side as your hips buck up toward his fingers. He removes his lips and fingers and starts to quickly rub his fingers back and forth on your clit as you ride out your orgasm, extending the peak longer than what you're used to.

As you start to once again come down from your high, you hear soft chuckling coming from Tetsurou. You look up to find his shirt soaking wet.

“Di-did i-i do that?” You ask, afraid of the answer.

“If you’re referring to the squirting, yes, you just did. Hard,” Kuroo smirks, causing your already flushed face to burst even more red in embarrassment. Instinctively, you hide your face behind your hands, as if you could magically disappear if you couldn’t see him.

“Pretty hot,” he mutters to himself before beginning to suckle on your inner thigh, allowing you to completely come down before going back at it. Beyond your blissful sighs, Tetsurou heard your phone buzzing in the background.

Blocked Number.

An evil smirk came to his face as a sinister idea popped into his mind. While you were blissfully unaware of your phone buzzing, Tetsurou opened your phone and unblocked your ex, just to see if he was reacting to the pretty sounds you were making.

And reacted, he did.

Countless messages flooded your phone after Tetsurou unblocked his number, with messages ranging from ‘come back, let’s talk baby,’ to ‘you better not be with Kuroo right now.’ The final message read, “I know that’s you at Kuroo’s apartment, you fucking bitch.”

“Tetsurou, what are you doing?” you ask, finally in grip with reality.

“Just giving your ex a bit of a show,” he replied, diving right back in.

Breathlessly, you grasp his bed head, trying to get a grip on your once again slipping reality. In the heat of the moment, he pushed your thighs down to each side, revealing your flushed pussy. While flicking his tongue on your clit once again, he snapped a selfie. In the frame was his face, smirking with his tongue out flicking your clit. To make the picture even better, your manicured hands were in view, gripping his hair in pleasure.

Perfect for a porn twitter account.

Tetsurou typed out ‘your loss, pal,’ and sent the text, blocked your ex’s number once again, and tossed your phone to the side, getting back to work, soon bringing you to your third and final orgasm.

After cleaning you up and bringing you a glass of water, Tetsurou snuggled up to you under a cozy blanket. As your endorphins went down, the pure dread of what your ex did came back.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N), do you regret what we did?” Tetsurou asked, the expression of pure concern expressed on his face.

“No, I’m just angry about this whole thing! Three years gone!” you shutter, trying to hold back tears. Tetsurou held you tighter.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face.

For the next ten minutes, you were crying into his chest as he rubbed you back and whispered soothing words.

As you calm down and sip your water, Tetsurou breaks the silence saying, “We need to talk about what just happened and what we are.”

You don’t reply, instead, you stare off to the side past Tetsurou’s shoulder.

“I kinda like you, but I’m not sure,” you meekly reply.

“Understandable. I want you to sleep on the idea of us. After you think of it, I want you to call me. Then we can get dinner.”

Space is what she needs, and space is what Tetsurou is willing to give her.

“Sounds great, but can I stay a little longer?” you ask, nuzzling seemingly closer into his warmth.

“Stay as long as you need, sweetie.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurō #tetsurou kuroo smut #kuroo x you #kuroo x reader smut #smut #lemon #do people still use lemon?#oh well im using it #cheating

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ms-starflower · 3 years

Text

Spook-tober Day 1 — Decorating

@maribat-october-rarepairs

So, technically, it’s October 2nd for almost two hour here, but it’s probably still the 1rst somewhere, right? Well, I don’t care anyway.

It’s my first time writing for an event (Maribat or otherwise) and I wanted to write both prompts for Spook-tober - Maribat Month and the Maribat Rare Pairs Month, but didn’t have time to start writing before 11pm.

This one's for Spook-tober, though it could also qualify as rarepair since it's a Stephinette (is that the correct shop name???), because Steph is my Queen (Cass too, but I wanted Steph today). Though they don't interact (yet) but I think I’ll write a follow up for other days' prompt, maybe (day 9 and 21, I’m looking at you,).

Anyway, let’s start.

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

“You sure you got the right address, miss?” The cab driver asked her with a skeptic expression. It would have been alright if the man hadn’t asked the same thing in at least twenty different ways during the ride.

“Yes, thank you Monsieur. I’m exactly where I wanted to be,” Marinette answered with a tight smile, like the twenty previous times. Giving him the money she owed him, she got out of the car to stand in front of the gigantic gate of Wayne’s Manor. The place was kind of intimidating.

Still hearing the car behind her when she reached the intercom, she turned toward it. The driver was shamelessly looking at her, probably waiting for her to get refused access.

“Are you waiting for something, sir?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“You’re gonna need a ride back, don’t ya? I’m already here, might as well,” he smiled at her with condescending amusement. Marinette was tempted to tell him that she would prefer to go back to the city on foot than to get into his car again. But her parents raised her better than that, so she only smiled politely.

“There is no need, sir, I really don’t know how long I’m going to stay here.”

“Yeah, right,” the man huffed, still staring at her.

Deciding to just ignore him, Marinette turned to push on the intercom’s only button. It took a minute before an elegant and accented voice responded.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Ah, hello sir. I’m Marinette, Jason asked me to come?”

“Indeed, Master Jason warned me to expect you.”

When the gate opened, Marinette made a point to turn around to smile and wave goodbye at the cab driver. She would cherish his dumbstruck expression for a long time.

Her victory was short lived, though, when she saw how long the march from the gate to the house was going to be. Jason better be on the brink of death. Or the world, she wasn’t picky.

When she finally got there, an old gentleman she thought might be Alfred was waiting for her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m Alfred, the family’s butler, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alfred said with a kind smile and a nod.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. And just Marinette is fine,” she told him kindly, walking into the house. “Jason is okay, right? He didn’t say why he wanted me here, and I have to admit that he got me worried.”

Jason had been determined to keep her as far away from his family as he could manage before, and the sudden change was really odd.

“I see,” Alfred said slowly, closing his eyes for a second. “Master Jason is alright, Miss Marinette, do not worry. He just… Well, why not let Master Jason explain the situation to you himself. If you would follow me.”

Marinette followed him for a couple minutes through a couple of corridors, before he opened the doors to… a battlefield.

She thought that, maybe, it was supposed to be a living room, but it was hard to say, under all those decorations. They were literally everywhere. Throwing on the couches, a couple of boxes were overturned in a corner, a couple of garlands of little cartoon ghosts hanging hazradly from the chandelier. It was a mess, but she could see that someone probably tried to… decorate? Maybe? It was a really bad job, though.

Jason and a man she assumed to be his brother were battling with a plastic pumpkin and a skeleton respectively, while two more men and a woman—probably also Jason’s siblings, she heard Bruce Wayne was kind of a serial adopter— were cheering on the sidelines and a brooding teenager was glaring at them. Everyone froze as soon as they realized that they weren’t alone anymore. Alfred only sighed, nodded at her before going back to where they came from.

“Hey! Pixie! Great, you’re here,” Jason exclaimed excitedly, letting go of the pumpkin he was shoving into his brother’s face and stauttered toward her.

“Jason, in the name of everything that’s holy, what the hell?” Marinette asked with a voice deceptively calm. She could see the woman and one of the men behind Jason wince at her tone. Good.

“Well, see, we wanna decorate the house for Halloween, now that it’s time—”

“Jason,” she interrupted incredulously. “We are in September!”

“Well, technically, it’s already October in Russia,” the man that had been fighting with Jason piped up.

“Yeah, what Timbers said,” Jason said with a serious nod while Marinette could only look at him in astonishment. “Anyway, Bruce said we can decorate all the room in the Manor like we wish if we can make this one presentable, without the help of Alfred. And I really want to make a cat theme for his bedroom, so I thought; hey, you know a designer…”

“I’m a fashion designer, Jason, not an interior designer!”

“Same difference, Pixie. You’re my only hope, all of them are hopeless in terms of good taste.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the various protests from Jason’s sibling, before taking out her phone.

“So you proceeded to send me ‘Hey Pix,” she said, reading the message he sent her earlier with a bad imitation of his voice. “‘Need you at the manor asap, urgence lvl 3’ before ignoring me, making me think that the world was probably ending—”

“World ending is at least a lvl 5, Pix, come on,” Jason interrupted with an offended expression. She ignored him.

“—Forcing me to take a cab with a absolute jerk driver—”

“Why did you take a cab? You have a car!”

“Adrien took the car, he is visiting Chloé in New York. But that’s not the point. The point, Jason, is that all of that was because you needed me to help you decorate for a day that is literally in a month?”

“Hey, Halloween is a very important celebration,” Jason’s brother, the one that had been cheering the loudest, told her with a solemn expression.

“I’m French, I don’t care about Halloween,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, what?” The one Jason had called Timbers, probably Tim Drake, looked pained at the very idea that someone could not be obsessed by Halloween.

“I mean, we used to make speciales and sales at the bakery, and I’ve been to a couple of costume parties, but we don’t really pay attention to Halloween until around the 25 of October.”

“That’s sacrilegious,” Jason said, and almost all the others agreed in a way or another.

“Maybe for you, Americans,” she told him with amusement. “But it doesn't change the fact that I’m not going to help you.”

What? Why?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“Because, one, I don’t have anything to gain from it,” she said, showing him one of her fingers before adding a second. “And two, do you know how long the walk between the cab and the door had been? And all of it just for decorations?”

“Aw, come on, Pix! Bruce is going to make Alfred judge, and I have projects for the cat theme!”

“There is nothing you can say that is going to make me change my—”

“Hey guys!” A cheerful voice suddenly interrupted her, the owner barging into the room like a whirlwind. The woman was slightly taller than her, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a beautiful smile that brightened the room and Marinette could feel the hearts that were making their way in her eyes. The girl was cute. Uh oh. “You are decorating already?! Cool! Be right back, let me just grab my stuff!”

Then she was gone, and Marinette could only blink slowly, before turning back toward Jason.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“What? Why— Oh, no, no, no! You’re not going to crush on Steph—”

“Oh, her name is Steph? What a lovely name,” she mumbled, looking back in the direction she disappeared. “But if you don’t want my help, I can just ask for her number and let you fend for yourself with the decorations, you know.”

“Pixie!” Jason complained, making his sibling laugh or snicker at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fun fact: when Marinette says that France doesn't care about Halloween until around October 25th, I’m talking from personal experience. I don’t know if it’s the same in all of France, but I grew up in Paris’ region (It’s not Paris Paris, but it’s like, the places all around and we call it régions parisienne) and they don’t care about it. Where I live, the shops don’t start selling Halloween themed candy before, like a week (maybe two?? when they start early) before Halloween and the children rarely go trick or treating. (I lived in this house for ~five/six years, and I’ve never got a child knocking for candy on Halloween.)

Again, I’m not saying it was like that for everyone in France, maybe it was only my city, but I thought it funny to have this opposition between Marinette and the Batkids.

#MaribatHalloween21 #maribat #mlb x dc #platonic jasonette #stephinette

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chrizbang · 3 years

Photo

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader

Genre: Romance, eventual smut, slow burn

Warnings: Idol!Chan, awkward date, mentions of food, suggestive (just a mention of penis, lol)

Word count: 1.702

Chapters: 1, 2

"Are you an idol?"

"What are you going to wear?" Mia asked. She was sitting on your bed, next to a pile of clothes. You were trying to choose the perfect outfit but nothing looked good enough. Yeah, you were panicking. "I don't know," you whined, defeated. "Why don't you wear a cute dress? Like this one?" Mia raised a white tight dress in the air.

"Mia, it's a date at his house. I need to wear something casual but it still needs to make me look hot. I need new clothes." "Nope." Mia got up, gathering some clothes from the mess on your bed. "You need to get your shit together. Here." She handed you a white long sleeve shirt and a leather skirt that made your ass look amazing. "Use it with some vans and boom! Hot and cozy." "I think that will do." "And for your make-up?" "I want something soft since I'm only going to his house." "Makes sense. Get ready already so I can take you there." "Are you really going to do this for me, bestie?" You made a silly face. Mia rolled her eyes. "Just get dressed."

Mia stopped her car at the address that Chan sent you. She asked you if you wanted her to get you when you left, but you assured her that you would take an uber. On the way, you messaged Chan telling him that you were close. When you arrived, he was waiting for you at the door. "Hi," you waved at him. For a moment you realized that you looked like an excited teenager and you had to fight the urge to laugh at yourself. "Hey," Chan smiled and hugged you. It was a quick hug but it was enough to make you feel your legs shaking. "Come in," he said. You noticed how that the place looked big, it was well decorated but simple, nothing fancy. "So, remember the guys you saw at the restaurant with me?" Chan asked, standing next to the door with you. He helped you to take your coat off so he could hang it on the coat rack. "Yes, I do." "We live together. I asked them to leave, so it's just the two of us." "Oh," you widened your eyes. "Okay." "I-It's not what you're thinking though. It's just so we could have privacy." He raised his hands, trying to defend himself. "It's okay," you laughed. "I think it's for the best. I would probably feel really embarrassed around a bunch of boys I don't know." Both of you stayed there for a moment, avoiding each other's eyes, not knowing what to say. Chan was wearing a white t-shirt that looked really good on him and some jeans. His hair was way too styled up for someone who was staying at home. "It's there something burning?" you asked. "Oh, shit!" Chan ran to the kitchen, trying to save something that was inside of the oven. "Oh, fuck," he complained while he put it on the balcony. Whatever that was, it was not edible anymore. "What was that?" you asked him. "I wanted to do something different for our date so I tried to cook a pie. But it clearly didn't work." You laughed out loud, throwing your head back. "I'm sorry, Chan," you said, crying because of how much you were laughing. Chan smiled, feeling satisfied by hearing you laugh. "It's okay," he giggled. "I guess we'll have to order takeout." "Sounds good to me," you chuckled, cleaning your tears. Chan ordered fast food. You were eating it in the kitchen with him but you couldn't help but notice the poorly placed curtain at the end of the kitchen. You laughed. "What?" Chan asked, his mouth full of food. "Nothing," you said. "Hey, I wanted to ask you something. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it." Chan raised his eyebrow. "What is it?" "Are you an idol?" Chan widened his eyes, choking on his food. He grabbed a cup of juice to help him out. After taking two big sips and clearing his throat, he started to talk. "Uhm, yes, I'm an idol,” his voice was low almost like he was telling you a secret. "That's very nice, Chan." "Sorry for not telling you." He looked worried. "It's just that things are way more complicated when it comes to relationships when you are an idol, and-" "Look," you interrupted him. "You don't have to explain yourself. It's not like you were hiding that you were married with kids." Chan laughed, feeling relieved. "Your friends, they are also part of the group, right?" "Yes. I'm the leader," Chan said with a soft smile and pride in his expression. Chan talked about the group, their hardships, and the members. You could see the love in his eyes when he talked about them. He clearly was passionate about it. He assured you that he would introduce you to them the next time. "So there will be a next time?" you purred. "If you want to." He smiled and you felt your heart skip a beat. "I would love to."

"There something..." Chan said, pointing to your mouth. "What?" "There something on your mouth." "Here?" you asked, touching the right corner of your mouth. "Here," Chan reached to your mouth, cleaning it with his thumb. You knew that your cheeks were bright red. You chuckled, lowering your head and looking at your food. "Thank you," you whispered. "You look really cute when you're shy," Chan teased. "Stop," you laughed, hiding your face with your hands. "Don't act like you're not shy too." "I am," Chan agreed, shaking his head and licking his lips. "It's been a while since the last time I had a date. I don't really have much free time." He looked thoughtful. You noticed that he was trying to be careful with his words. Maybe he didn't want to scare you away. "I can imagine." "To be honest, I wasn't even looking for a date. But when I saw you..." Chan stopped and looked at you, his eyes were shining bright, his cheeks red and the cute dimples were prominent on his face while he smiled. "I don't know. You are something else." "Chan, stop." You closed your eyes, not knowing how to deal with his compliments. "You barely know me." "That's why we are on a date, right? I want to know everything about you." You smiled. Maybe he was just being a philanderer. But the way he looked at you made you feel like he was being honest. You and Chan talked a lot. He wasn't joking when he said that he wanted to know everything about you. He asked about your work, your family, your friends, your dreams, the things you liked to do. He listened to you with so much attention and care that you didn't even notice that it was late.

"I think I should get going," you said, the disappointment of leaving was very clear in your voice.

"Really?" Chan pouted. "Yeah, I have to work tomorrow." "Okay," Chan got up to get your coat. "Thank you for coming, I had a lot of fun today." "Thank you for having me," you said, following him. "I'm sorry for not being able to take you home." "Chan, don't worry about it." Chan locked eyes with you. You saw his eyes wandering for a moment to your lips while he licked his. You felt like you were going to faint if he didn't do something. Should you kiss him? Was he going to kiss you? You weren't able to know the answer because somebody opened the door, startling both of you. "Oh, hey. Sorry, I forgot about your date," a tall man said. "Y/N, this is Hyunjin, Hyunjin, this is Y/N," Chan said, his lips distorting in a way that showed that he was upset for being interrupted. "Nice to meet you," you giggled. "Nice to meet you too." "I have to go," you said, walking through them to the door. "Text me when you get home, okay?" Chan asked. "Sure! Bye." You waved at him and left. While you were walking away, you were pretty sure you heard Chan saying something like "I could have kissed her if it wasn't for you" to Hyunjin. You laughed.

"How was it?" you heard Mia asking through your phone. You threw yourself on the bed, sighing. "It was amazing." "Don't fall in love, girl. It was just one date." "I'm not in love." You rolled your eyes. "But it's impossible not to be amazed by him." "Did he kissed you?" "No. I think he was about to but somebody else came home and I left." "I can't believe you ran away," Mia mocked you. "I didn't run away, Mia. I just... I don't know, I'm too shy about this. I'm not bold like you" you scoffed. "t's okay, baby. I still love you even though you are a little chicken." You rolled your eyes again. Suddenly, you heard the ringtone of your phone indicating that you had a message. It was from Chan. "Wait, hold on. I'll call you later, I just got a message from Chan." "I hope it is a picture of his big cock." "Mia!" you laughed. "Bye." "Bye, girl." You opened the text to see what Chan sent to you. Chan, 10:32 pm: Hey Chan, 10:32 pm: I was wondering if you wanna come over to watch a movie Chan, 10:32 pm: When you are free Y/N, 10:32 pm: yeah, sure Y/N, 10:33 pm: I would love to Chan, 10:33 pm: Okay then Chan, 10:33 pm: I'll introduce you to my friends Chan, 10:34 pm: But I need to warn you that they are very loud Y/N, 10:35 pm: that sounds fun Y/N, 10:37 pm: I need to warn you that I might stay a little shy for a while Chan, 10:38 pm: It's okay Chan, 10:38 pm: You can hold my hand if you want Chan, 10:38 pm: You know, just to help you overcome your shyness Y/N, 10:38: I would love to You smiled and went to sleep, excited for your next date with Chan.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Sorry for kissblocking the caracthers (idk if this is a term, lol).

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Note

I AM ADDICTED TO STARDEW IMPACT!!! Ngl tho I could use Xiao’s stamina in the mines. Especially in the Wilderness farm.

What kind of farms did the boys and their s/o landed on tho??

Stardew Valley [Genshin Impact AU]

Synopsis: Which farm suits their personality (Continuation of Stardew Impact <.<)

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Childe, Albedo

Thank you! I’m happy that you like it hehe. Honestly both Xiao and Zhongli. I still can’t get through Skull Cavern floor 100, Xiao would be super good at handling monsters while Zhongli can do some fast mining cuz I’m out of bombs lol.

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

Diluc: Forest farm

Trees and secluded areas? Perfectly goes with that lone sojourner persona of his (you can’t convince me otherwise after this vid)

But consider his status as a wine owner, the forest farm is very appealing to him (most likely why the Dawn Winery was located near Wolvendom anyways), quality wood is extremely crucial for making kegs and barrels to store ingredients so they won’t go bad. Diluc finds this map very profitable for his business.

This is why most of the buildings on your land is made of wood. Thank god he doesn’t have his pyro vision.

But Diluc genuinely likes the fragrance of trees. After a long day of work, he likes to go out and just inhale the scent of damp moss combined with the woody smell attached to it, his mind feels alleviated from all the stress that was piling up

Bonus: Fruit bats. Foraging is a must to make good wine and mushrooms are out of the question (for now)

Kaeya: Beach farm

It’s the best place to get your suntans amirite? Honestly if this was a modern AU (which technically is), he’s totally the type of uni student to spend most of his weekends outside near the beach like the typical chad he is.

Plus he likes the variety, not just trees all the time because they’re boring. He enjoys the vast space and the ability to just look at the horizon whenever he needs to. It’s a habit of his. The sky holds many signs, it tells you the weather, shows you the time of day, it holds the stars in which determines the fate of humanity. Though...he doesn’t need to worry about those things anymore hmm?

Looks forwards to crates washing up onshore. Kaeya is very lucky actually (pirate’s luck?) Rather than mixed seeds (cuz fuck those), expect him to bring back some triple shot expressos, omnigeodes, artifact troves etc...

He was so lucky he once tried his luck at the casino. But stopped shortly after you found out and got mad at him.

Bonus: Mushroom cave. He heard you can make some very useful potions with them, or he can try mixing it with his wine.

Xiao: Riverland farm (what I chose uwu)

There’s something so serene about this environment. The type of guy just likes to chill by a river stream while sitting on top of a tree branch. Xiao uses the noise almost like a meditative practice, something he most likely did back in Liyue too. He can close his eyes and listen to it for hours.

Since this map is mainly good for fishing, it works generously in his favour. He can refill the water can whenever he needs to since watering crops is the only farm-related activity he can actually handle. He’s rather quite good at catching fish (although in a peculiar way) plus feeding them to your pet cat.

But Xiao dislikes how easily materials fall into the water. While he was chopping the trees down to clear out some space, it toppled down the wrong side and he lost most of the materials. Forever. Ugh, what a pain.

At least it’s less likely to be a mess. Through seasons, rocks and fallen trees tend to pile up. Thanks to the river taking up most of the space, he wouldn’t have to worry about clearing up land so much.

Bonus: Mushroom cave. Not because he likes mushrooms but he dislikes bats. Their constant squeaking is annoying.

Zhongli: Standard farm

Vanilla guy through and through. His taste in things tend to be very plain in general but as long as they meet the necessary requirements of what makes a perfect farm then there’s no need to complain. He takes farm work very seriously so it makes sense that he gets picky of what there is to offer.

The amount of land gets him very enthusiastic about how he wants to decorate it (he literally formed the land of Liyue so surely he must have some architect related knowledge). Has barns, coops, vineyards, seasonal crops grouped in an organized fashion.

Though that also means a lot of maintenance is required. Clean up, clearing the fern, fixing up broken fences. Many broken fences because he puts fences all over the place.

But because he’s so good at what he does, you guys make so much money. Perfectly balances his super-spending habit of his.

Bonus: Fruit bats. Mushrooms don’t have a very pleasant smell.

Childe: Wilderness farm

Are you surprised? Because I’m not. He can have combating activities for days. Childe is very adventurous at heart (hence why he joined the adventures guild) with bloodthirst that needs to be quenched.

This is why his combat level high (though it’s already high). He normally takes on treasure hoarders or mitachurls to test his abilities, the variety of monsters proved to be very entertaining to him. Vincent became his number 1 fan after listening to all the cool tales about him.

It’s very inconvenient for farm work though, you can never be too sure when a slime is about to jump on your back as you’re planting your seeds. The only plus side is that Childe helps you get some cool drops (including prismatic shards!) which can save you time with the community center.

Not ideal for fishing. Often you guys end up catching trash. You complain a lot and he begins to get annoyed with how many interruptions they bring. Well, it was fun while it lasted at least.

Bonus: Mushroom cave. He’ll need healing potions, lots of them.

Albedo: Hill-top farm

Not too much land, rivers aren’t too much either, everything was just right. The right amount of environment for cultivating his materials for his research. Albedo thinks the elevating platforms are pretty neat, very easy to locate the different areas when you can spot them easily.

A fan of studying the rocks of this world hence why this farmland is good for mining. Though the downfall was that not much farm work could be done, Albedo could care less unless crops were raised for formulas.

You will always find him outside, most likely by the southwest hilltop trying to gather precious ores and any signs of omnigeodes. After that, he goes to Rasmodius’ tower and conducts his experiments there. Albedo is restless ever since.

But the gifts you receive will always be interesting. You also like go mining in the caves, Albedo always crafts the necessary tools for you beforehand. You will never have to worry about missing anything.

Bonus: both. Mushroom and bats. Demetrius told him it was impossible, not like it was an issue anymore.

#genshin impact #stardew valley #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc #kaeya #childe #zhongli #albedo #genshin impact xiao

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miioouu · 3 years

Note

you should do a supernatural au with whoever you want !

It's only after I've written all of that that I realized you maybe meant it as the supernatrual show? If not then great (although im not sure this counts as super natrual, and if you did mean the series sjensjdb sorry i never watched) Anyway, that's a mess, so if you meant smth else please let me know, I'll write you smth else! Thank you for requesting!! ❤️💜❤️

Sero Hanta

It's getting hot lately, it's the middle of June and you're dying of heat, typical summer weather. Which is totally normal, you're not really complaining, you're a summer lover. Since you were kid, you loved the bright sun, the hot air, sweating off and enjoying the clear sky. You enjoyed summer and it's multiple activities, from ice cream cooling you off, to hiking up to a fresher environment. But your favorite of them all has to be going to the beach. The sand under your toes and the waves controlling over your body, letting go. It all felt so nice. A bit too nice.

Enjoying yourself way too much, you didn't realize that the waves are getting you further and further away from the shore. The sun is setting and the water cooling off more, your eyes closed for a second enjoying the breeze, and that was your mistake. You didn't see the big wave coming, no one around you was there to warn you either, it came crashing over you. Turning you over, making you reach the bottom of the ocean, and pushing your body left and right, the impact leaving you blacked out.

It's a miracle you opened your eyes. Though you were met with darkness, with nothing but a few... Purple lights? That's weird. Looking around you, you find yourself in what seems like a cavern, dark, humid, jellyfishes were the source of light. You laid in the back, on a rock, a big one and you wondered what brought you here. Who brought you here. And your question was soon to be answered. A man, black haired and even blacker eyes making his way towards you. Agile and smooth in his movements, the ethereal light accentuating what you can see of his body. His torso smooth, his abs showing slightly, and what were that on his elbows? The closer he got the more obvious it looked, but not really. Are those scales? And is that... Is that a tail behind him? A mermaid! Merman! That can't be it. You must be dreaming, you really knocked your head really hard. Maybe if you just turn away, and close your eyes, this timr you'll wake up in reality. But that was in vain. A wet hand found it self in your shoulder shaking you, while the other still behind his back. His abyss eyes looked into yours, he looked so handsome, he looked so real, maybe if you.... As you reached out, your fingers shaking as they made their way to his cheeks, but as soon as he felt the contact he backed away. "I... I didn't mean to hurt you.... Are you ok?" Giving you a questioning look, head tilt to the side and an obvious confusion in his eyes, it's when you realized, he can't understand you, and finding a way out of here, might be more difficult than you expected it.

As much as you'd love to stay with the new found creature, you have a family that might be worried to death about you right now. So standing to your feet, you tried to make your way out of the cavern, though you were stopped. A webbed hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you backwards "Where do you think you're going?" Huh? So now he can speak?! "Why- why didn't you answer me before?" You wanted to sound more confident, more serious, but you voice came out as shaky and trembling. "Because you asked me a stupid question! I should be the one wondering if you're ok. Anyway, you can't go back now. The waves are still too strong, and it's so dark out, you'll only get lost. So why don't you stay for a bit more, and in the morning I'll lead you out! Here I even got you some games we can play so you don't get bored!" Finally the hand that was behind his back was revealed, stretching it before you, opening his palm, small fish bones, some pearls and shells shone in his palm, but what really attracted you was the big shell with something engraved on it. Four letters symbolizing who this man- euh merman before you was, in an intersting typography, the name "Sero" made your heart beat a bit faster....

Kozume Kenma

Living far from the city is fun. Every morning you opened your window, the fresh air carrying the smell of baked good from the small bakery accross your small house and the lavender growing infront of your porch door. You liked living like that. And you liked roaming around the village, petting every animal you see, from the elderly couple's cows, to the young boy's dogs, it's an amazing life you're living.

The pet that you liked the most, but unfortunately you don't think it reciprocate your feelings, is the nocturnal cat that's always meowing outside your window. It was a stray cat, only showing up at night, you'd throw it some food before it snatched it and left. Though as more time passed by, this cat seemed to like you more and more. It would stay out a little longer, eating in front of you instead of leaving to eat in it's secret hidden place. And on cold nights, it would rub its head on your leg, relishing in the pets you'd give them. This cat, white with spoltches of black and gold decorating its furr, seemed like it was abandoned, for a collar was still wrapped around its neck, and a name shining under the light on the medal "Kenma". And you loved that name, you don't know why, but it fits the cat, and everytime you think of this five letter name, you can't help but smile and your heart get warmer.

Cold winter night, you were worried; where's your precious Kenma. You were about to go look for him until you heard whines and scratched on your door, indicating it's your beloved street cat. Quickly letting him in, running to grab a towel and drying him, holding him close to your chest to keep him warm "Awww baby, you're cold yeah? I was worried about you all day long, why didn't you come earlier?" and of course you didn't get a reply, only a purr and a scooting closer to you, burying himself in the warmth of your body. So warm and peaceful, the cat drifted to sleep. And it could be because of the weather, or because you're so happy with the kitty next to you, it's still early but your eyelids are growing heavy, you fell into dreamland with your arms holding the pet close to you.

It's just so warm here, so comfortable, your mattress and your sheets are so soft, your heartbeat lulling him into an even deeper slumber, keeping him in your bed even well after the sun had risen. It's only when a sudden push made him fall of the bed, a high scream making his ear ring and the warmth of you once close body left him cold and shivering tat he finally opened your eyes. "Who are you?! How did you get here?! You know don't say anything, keep it for when the police comes!" That's when it all clicked in his head, eyes widening, moving fast as a cat to take your phone away from your hand. "Y/n, listen, calm down, calm down! I can explain, I swear!" Y/n? How does this stranger know your name? When he finally stood to his feet, you had a proper look at him. Long hair that stops right before his shoulder, dyed blonde but you could see the black roots. Eyes sly as a feline, golden, a bit strange. And it's when your eyes raked down, stoped to his neck you noticed something familiar, the collar of your beloved cat. "Y/n, it's me Kenma!" You always knew this village was bit strange...

#kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #hq x reader #request

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zafirosreverie · 3 years

Text

Share my infinite (Agatha x Fem!reader) Part 2

A/N: This is long, guys. But i didn't want to do two parts for this, since i still have to do another one for the reader's recovery. Also, I have a huge headache, so forgive any mistakes.

Anyway, i hope you like it! ^ - ^

You ran as fast as you could, voices screaming with rage behind you. They will kill you.

“Shit” you growled when you tripped with a branch. You got up quickly and continued running, but that second was enough for the dogs to come closer to you. Those stupid dogs and their stupid owners, why couldn’t they leave you alone?! You didn’t do anything to them and yet they were hunting you, just because of your “family”.

“I don’t even have the last name” you mumbled.

You were part of a rich family that was respected among the people of your town, but you were never a part of it. You were the odd one, the freak, the mistake. You were the only one that inherited your grandfather's...condition.

At some point in the family’s story, someone thought it was cool and a good idea messing up with dark magic and ended up marrying a vampire, condemning the entire lineage to fear for the purity of their blood. By the time you were born, that was just a legend, something the parents told their childs to make them behave.

“Y/N, stop doing that” your mother would say. “It must be the vampire in her” your father would add.

You were a pretty curious girl, which led to many misbehaviours, so you heard that phrase too often.

“Wish something really hard and it will become a reality” you thought with sarcasm.

When you were 8, the nightmare began. You had just lost your baby teeth and your new ones were appearing. Your parents thought it was cute, but then, your new fangs came and they screamed in horror. They were too long to be normal. They were like your grandfather’s. They were vampire’s fangs.

At first, they tried to pull them out, it hurted like hell, but they didn’t move. So, your parent’s kept you hiden, not even the rest of the family could see you (you would later hear that they didn’t want to). The only person that you were allowed to interact with, was the grandfather himself. He was actually your great great great great great great grandfather, but allowed you to call him Grandpa or Grandfather. Your parents decided that you were no longer their daughter, so he gave you his last name. His real one.

He was sweet and nice with you, teaching you how to retract your fangs and everything he knew about your condition. He told you that you shouldn’t worry, that it was something that happened every generation. Your uncle Nicholás had it too, so it wasn’t anything you couldn’t control.

What he didn’t tell you was that uncle Nick was burned alive for it.

You weren't a full vampire, you only had a few remnants of vampire blood in your veins. Grandpa was sure that, with every generation that had the condition, it became weaker and weaker, so he had faith that you would be the last one to have it. And he was right.

You were the last one. None of your nephews or nieces got it, nor their children or grandchildren or great grand children. You were there for the babies’ births, and for their deaths too. Generations came and went, but you remained the same. You stopped aging at 22, and were trapped like that ever since. Your grandfather died long after your great grand nephews did, but it proved that you were not eternal.

As the years passed, you became kind of a myth among the family, the maiden who didn't age. The ghost of the library. The shadow of the house. Generation after generation, you became just another part of the family heritage, something that came with being part of the Van Dales. Everyone treated you like another decoration.

Until now.

These new people (you had stopped thinking of the new generations as your family long ago) decided it wasn’t fair that you got to enjoy all the money while they had to die. It was a stupid argument, but that didn’t matter. You knew they just wanted to get rid of you. And that’s what they did.

They spread the word around the town, that whoever brought your head to them would be rewarded with part of the family treasure. You barely had time to grab a small bag with your belongings (the ones you had since you were a child) before you were carried out of the house and into the woods.

They didn't tell you why, just to wait and they left you there. A few minutes later you heard the footsteps of the people and a man saying that he would be the one to kill you and claim the reward.

You started running in that very second.

“don’t change, don’t change, don’t change” you begged, feeling your eyes burning.

One of the things that you learnt the hard way was that when you were in danger, your e/c eyes would change to dark red, and then you would go into a frenzy. That meant you would become a murder machine, and you didn’t want that even if it was your last hope.

“Of all the things I got from the vampires, why couldn't it be super speed?” you thought as you heard the men coming closer. Your legs were burning and your lungs were about to explode.

You weren’t paying much attention, so you didn’t notice the air changing nor the energy around you. You needed to escape.

You tripped again and you cursed. But you couldn't hear the dogs or the men anymore. You lost them? How? They were right behind you, there was no chance that you could have lost them.

But you needed to rest so you weren't complaining at all. It didn't last for too long.

You heard a leaf crushing and steps close to you. You stood up quickly and prepared to run again, but something stopped you. You couldn't move, as if your feet were glued to the earth.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" A voice said behind you. You froze and your eyes started to burn again. The person walked around you and you saw the most beautiful woman ever. Her eyes and hands were glowing with a purple light and suddenly you understood why you couldn’t move. She was a witch.

Your grandfather taught you about witches, saying that, just like you, they were usually misunderstood, and that you shouldn’t be afraid of them. Even if you ever meet an evil witch, the vampire blood in you would protect you. The fact that her magic had an effect on you, meant that she actually didn’t want to hurt you.

"Aren't you a precious little thing?” she asked and you couldn’t help but notice how lovely her voice was. “What are you doing here, darling?”

You opened your mouth but closed it again. There was so much to explain but words didn’t come to you at the moment. You remained silent for a few moments before trying to speak again.

“I- I escaped” you whispered, making the woman raise her eyebrow.

“escaped? from what?” she asked, stepping closer to you.

“Men” you simply said. Her presence was making you nervous and you felt your cheeks blushing.

Your answer seemed to be enough for her and she nodded, unwrapping you from her magic.You noticed her eyes turned to an ice blue color and you gasped. They were the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Y/N”

“Y/N” she repeated and your heart jumped a little. You loved the way your name sounded in her voice. “Come with me” she said and started walking. You blinked and stood there for a moment before you quickly followed her. You didn’t know her, but it was this witch or the hunters.

They didn’t have beautiful blue eyes or a lovely voice. So the choice was easy.

She took you to a small cabin, surrounded by big trees and a little pond on the side. You blinked and blushed as she opened the door for you. The simple interior made you feel warm and protected. She saw you wandering around the room, watching her things carefully, not touching anything but being interested in them.

You noticed her smile and stopped walking, taking a step back. She was staring at you as if you were her prey, which, to be fair, might be the case.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that you don’t follow strangers into their houses, love?” she finally asked after a long moment of just staring at you.

Agatha was intrigued by you. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn’t have been able to pass the barrier she put around her house, not even other witches could do it. But most importantly, you shouldn’t be standing there as if you were comfortable in her presence. As if you weren’t afraid of her.

“I’ve been living with strangers for a long time” you said honestly and shrugged “i guess i’m not afraid of them anymore”

That made Agatha even more curious. She walked to you and locked eyes with you. You were a little surprised by it, but you didn’t look away.

“You’re like me” she said softly, and you shrugged again.

“I guess so?”

The witch didn’t want to have high hopes, but she had been alone for almost 200 years now and the possibility of having some company was enough to let you stay some days. At least until she discovered more about you and how much power you had.

_________

“Don't” Agatha warned you, not lifting her eyes from her book “whatever you’re thinking, don’t”

You giggled and ignored her “I’m not doing anything, Aggie” you lied and she sighed.

She was about to turn around to see what you were planning, when she felt your cold hands in the back of her neck, making her jump.

“Y/N!!!” she yelled and you laughed, watching her shivering.

“Got ya!” you said when she turned to face you

“Those are ice! Are you sure you’re not dead?” she asked with sarcasm and fake anger, but the blush on her cheeks gave her away.

“Could be. I haven’t checked my pulse today” you joked and she chuckled.

You had been living with her for a year, and she had fallen head over heels for you. You were sweet, charming, always had a smile on your beautiful face and you were always finding ways to make her laugh. You were kind and loving towards her, making her loneliness fade away.

But you were also naughty as hell.

You loved making pranks, jokes and chaos. She was your favorite target, but it was something almost innocent, nothing that a child couldn’t do (a part of her knew it was because you were forced to grow up too quickly, so you were just doing what you wanted to do back then), but that benevolence didn’t extend to other people.

Your pranks and jokes were anything but innocent when the targets were people from the town near the forest. It made sense, because they were the same people that tried to kill you a year ago. But you once told her that you actually just enjoyed causing chaos, which made her fall in love with you even more. She loved being by your side whenever you caused something among the humans. It was a magnificent artwork, a chaotic, kind of evil, maniac, artwork. And it had both of your signaments in the corner.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice you talking to her. When you looked at her and saw that you had lost her at some point, an evil grin appeared on your face. Well, you were not a person that decline opportunities.

Agatha gasped when you pushed her to the pond.

“Y/N!!!!” she yelled again and you laughed harder.

“That’ll teach you not to ignore me when I’m trying to declare my love for you, Harkness” you joked and walked to the house.

The witch sighed as she stood and used her magic to dry herself. That has been your most cruel joke to this day.

When she met you, she assumed you were a witch. You crossed her barrier, after all, so you must be a powerful one. But when she tried to steal your magic when you were asleep, she sensed it was too weak, she could barely call it magic at all.

That confused her so much. How did you cross then? This amount of magic was not enough to do it. The next day, she confronted about it and you just blinked.

“You think i’m a witch?” you asked before you giggled “I’m a vampire” you said and left her speechless.

You taught her everything you knew about your condition, but it wasn’t too much since your family just wanted you to hide yourself. So she tried to learn everything she could about vampires. You frowned and said that if she was going to learn about your kin, then you wanted to learn about hers.

And just like that, your lessons started. The first days, you two sat at the table with a pile of books in front of you, but that plan disappeared the moment you saw her stretching to make her back more comfortable. You took the books and threw them on the floor, making Agatha gasp, then you took her hand and made her lie beside you on the wood. You’ve never used chairs for study or reading since then.

The joke started when she started to teach you some tricks. They were pretty simple and basic, but she loved the look in your face when you got one of them right. One day, you were so happy to finally do a spell you were trying for weeks, that you kissed her cheek with excitement and her mind went blank, her cheeks burning. You noticed it and never let her live with it.

Since then, you would make comments or do things that made her believe you might feel the same, but then you would just laugh and leave her with a hole in her chest.

“Aggie?” you asked softly. You had noticed that she didn’t follow you and after a moment, you went out again to make sure she was okay. You frowned when you saw her just standing there, lost in her thoughts.

You carefully took her hand and she jumped, looking at you.

“Are you ok?” you asked and she nodded, removing her hand from yours.

“I’m fine, Y/N” she said and your frown deepened. She never used that tone with you. The “I have something in my mind but you wouldn’t understand so let’s pretend i’m alright” tone. You took her face in your hands and made her lock eyes with you.

“Don’t lie to me” you whispered

Agatha stared at you for a moment before she sighed. She couldn’t. She always thought she was strong enough to lie to everyone, to take what she needed and do what she wanted. But you, you made her weak. And she would do anything for you. Even expose her heart and let you break it.

“Please don’t do it” she said “please don’t make jokes about your love for me. Not when we both know you don’t mean it.”

You frowned again in confusion, but when you understood her words, you blushed and felt your pulse racing.

“Who said i don’t mean it?” you asked softly, caressing her cheek.

“NO!” Agatha said, more harsh than she intended “Don’t do it Y/N.” she said, whispering again “Please. Don’t give me false hopes. I can’t take it” she begged and you felt guilt invading you.

You had been making those jokes because they were the only way you could get your own feelings out of your chest without actually risking your friendship with the witch. If you had known she felt the same way…

Agatha gasped when she felt your lips against hers. She wasn’t expecting this, but she had been wanting to do it for so long that she took the opportunity. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer to her. Your lips were too soft and she would be happy to lose herself in them.

“I’m sorry” you whispered when you broke the kiss “I’m sorry i didn’t tell you before”

That made her open her eyes. There was a silent question in them, and only your own eyes had the answer.

You kissed her again, and again, and again, wanting to erase all the doubts you accidentally planted in her mind. Each kiss was an apology and a promise. No words were needed at that moment.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agnes imagine #agnes x reader #marvel #mcu #wandavision imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agatha harkness x you

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

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a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

#did i read this before posting it???? nope #this is so silly but was also living RENT FREE in my brain #also this is temporally separated from the last ep lol bc i do not have it in me to write anything heavy this week #drunk happy husbands only !!!!#🙅🏻‍♂️‼️#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction

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