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nanas04 · 7 months

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Confidentiality Agreement

Ch3

M-preg noted

BIBLEBUILD 🖤💙

In the morning, Build felt something stirring in his stomach. He immediately got up and ran to the bathroom sink, throwing up the volume of his stomach. Last night's food didn't seem to be digested well. Ugh, the annoying side of pregnancy. He continued by washing his face and brushing his teeth, then went out, prepared warm water to make the milk. While waiting for the water to boil from the electric kettle, Build made the bed, opened the curtains and windows, letting in the fresh morning air. 4 a.m, still too early to start activities.

There was a whistling sound from the kettle, Build took out the lemon biscuits he had saved and started making milk. A little extra energy before Build starts his job as son-in-law.

His duty as a wife is to prepare a morning meal for his husband and the former king and queen mother. It became a tradition to have breakfast together at the former king's residence, and Build was happy to help serve the breakfast. That's what he did before, but now it's changed a bit, since the incident in Paris, he desperately avoids being in the same room as his husband.

All the cutlery for breakfast is neatly prepared on the table. Build moved here and there arranging the dining room, drawing curtains, opening windows, turning on the air freshener, setting up the coffee machine. After finishing, he went out to the palace kitchen, he saw several new staff arriving and preparing cooking ingredients.

"Arun sawadi khrap" said Build to the staff.

"Sawadi khrap, Khun," said the staff, inviting Build to enter the kitchen.

"What's on the menu today, Chef?" Build asked the palace chef.

"Khao tom, gai yang and khanom krok. Does Khun want anything else?" Asked the palace chef, making dishes with the help of several staff to prepare the ingredients.

"Just Khao tom, can I get some first? I have to hurry to the temple." Ask Build gently. Morning porridge must be fun for him.

"Khrap phom, I'll prepare it quickly," answered the chef, continuing to cook.

Build left, getting some fresh air in the flower garden next to the dining room while waiting for his order to be served. His head felt full, today he had to plan carefully to avoid the palace members, where he would hide to spend his time. Build took out his cell phone, telling Jane to wait for him in the room.

"Phi, I've checked all the prayer needs today. The guards will leave first to secure the temple. The queen mother has scheduled her departure at 8, we can leave 30 minutes before her," said Jane by checking her tablet.

"We can leave now, I don't want to waste too much time."

"But Phi has to have breakfast together first, it's still 6," Jane stopped Build.

"Nope, I've had breakfast, Jane." Build said, walking out of his room.

Jane sighed in frustration, she felt strange about Build's changes in the past few months, her master never missed breakfast together. But he didn't dare ask, afraid of offending Build.

They walked out of the compound and towards the car that had been prepared. There were no bodyguards to accompany him today, their car drove and cut through the streets of Bangkok which were still not too busy with vehicles, only a few vehicles passing by.

"Can we stop by Sevel for a moment?" Build said to the driver.

"Khrap, khun" the driver answered politely.

"Khun want to look for something?" Jane asked, annoyed by Build's sudden behavior.

"Ehem" Build answered lazily, he rested his eyes for a moment. Jane was silent at Build's answer, she really wanted to ask Build with lots of questions.

They arrived at the temple with extra security in every corner of the temple building, and several media crew were sitting and chit-chat with each other. Jane handed Build a mask and sunglasses to avoid the media. The two of them walked towards the temple first, one of the bodyguard approached Build and led them into the temple.

There were several people in the temple who were hearing the morning dharma from the monks. Build and Jane sat and listened until it was finished, then received blessings from the monks.

"The offerings from the palace are placed over there, khun," Jane whispered when they left the temple.

Build walked over to the staff who were preparing the offerings, and helped them arrange them. As it got closer to noon, several new palace members arrived, including ministers, party leaders, legislative members, several generals and political members who were closely related to the palace.

Media crews began to prepare, and there was a loud roar as the parade of palace cars entered the temple grounds. All cameras focused on the King and his family, asking for a little attention from the King and Queen Mother to answer their short interview, then entered the temple together. When everyone had entered, Build entered, followed by Jane, the they sat in the back row.

The members present sat and listened to the monk who was leading the prayer, the ceremony went smoothly.

"Ai-Jane, let's go out first." Invite Build in a low voice.

"Kha" Jane answered, and they slipped away.

Build pulls Jane towards another temple building, he wants to visit the ashes of the late King Nititada.

"Wait here Jane, I want to pay my respects first." Build said, then took off his shoes and entered the temple.

Build walked straight, looking for the urn where King Nititada's ashes were placed. While standing in front of the urn of ashes, Build sat down and took out several oranges from his bag, and lit the incense prepared to pay respects to the late king. Build prayed for a moment.

"Phu, khrap. Biu came, sorry for not visiting Phu often." Biu was silent for a moment, "Biu... Biu... is pregnant, still very small, Phu remembers Mhor Thanom, he said Biu was healthy. Um... Biu even brought her ultrasound photo, Phu wants to see it?" Build took out the ultrasound photo he had kept, smiled slightly and showed it to the urn of the late King's ashes.

"Look, it's still not clear, Phu. Biu looks after him well, sometimes he's naughty, making Biu vomit his food. Hehehe, Phu would be happy if he could meet him." Build placed the image next to the offering tray. His eyes were watery, he was confused about how to start.

"Biu plans to go, Phu. Far away. Biu hopes to go very far, please don't be angry with Biu na. Biu only asks for Phu's blessing, Biu wants to give birth to Phu's great-grandson well, Biu will look after, care for and educate him like Phu did with to His Majesty, Biu will make Phu proud." Build sobbed softly, letting the tears fall slowly. He spent a while in the temple looking at the urn of ashes.

He heard soft steps coming in, Build hurriedly took the ultrasound picture and put it in his bag. Jane sat behind Build and gave a wai to the urn of the late King's ashes.

"The prayer is over, Phi. They are gathering, but..." Jane said quietly, Build turned to Jane.

"What?"

"Phi Chan said to take Phi home, because... because...Khun Khrancana came." Jane said quietly the last sentence.

"Hem" mock Build "My husband met his love"

"If Phi wants to...."

"Next month, I will attend an auction in Chiang Rai. And Jane, please take on some work that the palace members can't attend, I will replace them. And if possible, stay overnight outside, please also compact and summarize my schedule for the next 2 months. " Build cut in, before Jane could finish her sentence.

"Phi will make his body tired, just take some..." Jane argued, disagreeing with her master's orders.

"I want to be able to sleep restfully, ai-Jane. I'll be more tired if I think about them, please, let me move away for now. I don't want to disturb my mind." Build said pitifully. His mind was in a mess, he didn't want to affect the condition of his fetus.

"Chai kha, I will do it." Jane answered briefly.

They left the temple, Build was ready with his mask and glasses again, walking towards their car park. Occasionally, he would turn his head to see a group of people chatting amiably with each other. His eyes swept around for her husband, and he found him. His husband looked happy, chatting with a woman standing next to him, not intimate, but even a fool could tell when he saw them, there was an aura of love being emitted.

/Jakapan Puttha-Sumettikul, I should be the one standing there/ Build's mind shouted, watched them for a moment, then got into the car.

Jane kept her promise, she got a lot of tasks for Build to do. Attend a charity events, national competitions, children's festivals, award giving, donation presentations, orphanage visit, etc. Touring the city and even staying in other provinces. Build really enjoyed it, and it saved him from various rumors that were circulating. He only heard rumors about the king and the prime minister's daughter, the TV media, online news and various social media networks had lots photos of them. The speculation circulating is compounded by the people who support them. Match, a widely used word.

Build's heart felt pinched, but he was able to brush it off. The fetus is fine, that's the only focus now. He hoped that the day would change quickly, he couldn't wait to complete his task, and he had found the right excuse to temporarily escape from the palace. Just waiting for the day. Build even prepared a place for Jane, if she decided to leave the palace too.

Tomorrow, Build will return to the palace, his duties in Chonburi are finished.

"Phi kha, dinner is ready, I'll put it in the room" Jane came, interrupting Build's thoughts.

"Oh, let's eat together, ai-Jane. tell the guards to eat too." Build said, entering the hotel room

"Krap, Phi." Jane answered, then she went out to give directions to the guards and came back in to accompany Build to eat. "Phi hasn't been vomiting lately," continued Jane, after taking a few bites and notice to Build's changes in the past week.

"Really? Maybe it's because the atmosphere is different," Biu said carelessly. He also realized that a good mood also had a good impact on his fetus.

"Ai-Jane, don't you want to continue school? You are talented and smart, I want to be your sponsor," said Build, between their bites. Jane made a surprised face hearing Build's offer.

"Auh Phi, don't bother, I'm satisfied for now," said Jane.

"It's oke, ai-Jane, I don't want you to stop here, at least more education can help your career path," persuaded Build, hoping that Jane would follow his offer.

Jane was silent, put down the spoon, then touched Build's hand on the table.

"What is Phi's planning? Phi has changed, the attitude, personality and the habits. Phi has changed since Phi returned from Paris. Phi became quiet at the beginning of your return, then Phi often smiled, then became gloomy again. Phi also often passed the time by sneaking out of the palace." Jane said, her brain was really frustrated with her master's changes.

Build stood up, locked the hotel room door and took Jane out onto the balcony. They sat and faced each other. Build took a deep breath.

"Listen to me, ai-Jane, I don't know where to start, but I-I'm sick, I have to get treatment, and I can't delay any longer..." explained Build calmly.

"What's wrong with Phi? Phi should have said, come check it out..." Jane stood up, almost dragging Build inside again.

"I have registered for treatment in Singapore, maybe in the next 2 months I will start doing it," said Build immediately, preventing Jane from thinking wilder thoughts.

"Phi is sick and didn't tell anyone, d-did Phi Bee know?" Jane asked, looking deeply at Build. And Build just nodded.

"Phi... Don't be like this, Phi is still a member of the palace, Phi can get treatment here. Why do you have to go to Singapore?" Jane continued.

"Because there no one knows me and the best part, no one is watching over me." Build said, he stood up, looking at the Baeng Saen sea from the hotel where he was staying.

"I want to be alone first, Jane. I'm tired of my fake life now, I want to find another purpose in life, I-I want to run far away," said Build again, turning his body to face Jane.

"Phi will leave me," Jane muttered softly, Jane really respected Build. Even though the palace staff said Build was cold to other people, that was not proven. During the selection for staff, Build was the first to accept her, she was very clumsy at that time, and Build patiently taught her. They have known each other for 6 years.

In 2 days, Build has to leave for Chiang Rai, messages from his sister shower him every day. Puttha's family holiday, it's been a long time since their grandfather died. Build got a little push for his departure this time.

In contrast to Jane, who was grumpy because Build forbade her from participating. This time the family's agenda was more easily approved by the queen mother as leader of the inner palace.

"Stop whining, ai-Jane. My head is spinning." Build scolded, looking annoyed at Jane.

"Who will guarantee Phi's safety there, at least bring one bodyguard." Jane protested, while arranging Build's clothes in hisvred suitcase.

"Auh, who will attack me? Je Bee won't let me go home with scratches..." Build chuckled softly, understanding his assistant's concern.

Ring... ring...

There was the sound of the door bell from outside the pavilion. Jane immediately got up and opened the door. Secretary Chan was standing in front of the door, Jane frowned, surprised.

"Phi Chan, sawadi kha." Jane said softly, giving a wai.

Chan greeted back, and gave a formal smile.

"Khun Jakapan was asked by His Majesty to meet." Chan said, without further ado.

"Kha, Phi. Wait a moment." Jane came in, run towards Build.

Build froze when he heard the news from Jane. His husband asked to meet, it seemed the moon was breaking. What a joke fate is. Build should have just washed Jane's feet, rather than meeting the monster trapped in the King's body.

Build would dress up nicely to meet him, but that's in the past . Now, he is too lazy to even straighten his clothes. He only wore a thick sweater with a collar to avoid the shape of his stomach, he even tucked an eyebrow razor into his sleeve. The incident in Paris made him more alert.

Chan walked in front of Build, leading him to the main compound. A regular place for the royal family to hold meetings with government officials.

The large door was at the end of the 2nd floor hallway, which Build believed was where His Majesty was.

"His Majesty is waiting inside." Chan explained briefly.

"Khop khun na khrap." Build said, walking towards the brown door.

It would be a lie if he wasn't afraid, his hands were even dripping with cold sweat. But he was prepared this time, his small knife safely tucked away.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw his husband sitting at his work desk. Several files were stacked in front of him, he didn't even lift his head to look at Build.

"Ratri sawadi khrap, Your Majesty." Build raised his hand, saluting Bible.

"Sit down!" Bible ordered, momentarily hearing Build's greeting.

Build closed the door behind him, and walked to the row of sofas in front of the King's desk. He sat up slowly, and rubbed his sleeve to make sure his small knife was still there.

Bible stood up, walking towards the couch. He looked at Build who was looking down then stepped over to sit across from Build. A small smile appeared on Bible's face, he felt that victory was truly on his side. His wife was not as brave as before, even to look at his face. And the first time they faced each other after the night of the rape.

#bible wichapas #build jakapan #bubbles #fanfic #alternate universe

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

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[4.11] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ you thought he didn't care, he was sure he doesn't, he had said it so himself to you. that was, until he almost lost the chance of being able to care for you.

⇁ tw : running away, mafia life (criminal/illegal acts)

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

At first, Wooyoung thought you had really ran away from him. After the fight you had the previous night, how could he not ?

"All I ask is a little bit of attention! I know you could spare some for me," you exclaimed, following after Wooyoung into the home office in his mansion. Yes, his, he never once said it was yours too so you treat it as such.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you, "and I ask you shut that big trap you called your mouth before I shut it for you, but we can't all get what we wanted now, can we ?" He spat.

You're used to his aggressive words, it used to hurt but now the pain just comes and goes. But you're at your wit's end, he was distant when you both were first forced into engagement but he was still polite so you thought that was just the shock, but now that you're married, things got worse.

"Wooyoung," you called, leaning both of your hands on his desk aa he sit on his office chair, "it's been 8 months since we got married," he glared at you when you said that, so you sighed and change your choice of words, "since we were force into marriage... But I've been trying so hard to make this less of a chore for both of us, I don't know what else I could do! You're not even bothering to hide the fact that you hate my guts to your very core even though it wasn't my fault that we got into this! Heck, you don't even bother to acknowledge that I exist!"

Wooyoung slammed his hands down on the table, standing face to face with you, "that's right," he chuckled darkly, "I don't even bother, you know why? Because you're nothing in my life, I never ask for you, I never wanted you, you're still here because your dad's business fell through with my dad and he used you as mean of escaping because that's all you are, princess," he leaned closer to your face and spoke through gritted teeth, "a worthless burden that people toss around,"

It would've been a lie if you said that his words doesn't affect you whatsoever. Because it does.

Maybe deep down that was one of your biggest fear and having someone confirmed that made you feel sick to your stomach. You recoiled from the table, as if having been struck across your face.

Though Wooyoung had a satisfied smirk on his face, "you should know I've been planning your assasination ever since you said 'I do', I would've made it look like an accident so that my dad wouldn't be up in my ass talking about losing his insurance of control over your dad, maybe I should move the schedule up so I can get rid of you quicker,"

You stared at him for a while, not knowing that he actually hated you that much. All this time you thought it was just petty reluctance of being tied to you, but this just brought things to a whole new level.

"No..." you choked out, trying to hold back tears, "I'll take care of it myself," and with that, you ran out of his office to pack all your belongings with tears streaming down your face.

And that was the last time Wooyoung had seen you. He had heard from one of his butlers that he had seen you running around the house retrieving your things where it supposedly was earlier, you looked frantic and you hadn't even taken a second to take a break.

"And did she got out of the house today?" Wooyoung asked from his position on the couch, loosening all of the buttons on his shirt. "No, master, not that any of us know of," said butler then leaned close to Wooyoung's ears, "the cctv has been cut off, her bodyguards are dismissed, no one has tended to her nor got close to her, and I personally see to it that all windows and doors are unlocked just as you had requested,"

Wooyoung couldn't believe that he's probably a free man now, that YOU had left him so that he wouldn't be in hot water with his father.

With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he decided to look around to see whether or not you had really left while telling his maid to prepare dinner for him.

True to what he expected, he made two laps around the mansion but not once did he find you. Not even in his office with a divorce paper, as dramatic as it sound.

He finally step into his shared bedroom with you to make his final confirmation.

At first he knocked on the door, not really knowing why he did that, but when no sound came from the room he simply opened the door and walked in. He hadn't returned the night before, spending half of his night in his home office before going out with San to a bar, not realizing that it was his guilt that drove him out to drink his memory away.

Looking around the room, he couldn't really tell whether or not you had ran away. The room looked like it had been slept in the night before, he could see the spot where you laid in comparison to his side that's perfectly neat.

When he stepped into the walk-in closet, he was quite surprised at the sheer contrast to the bedroom. Your clothes thrown haphazardly, it seems like you were urgently looking for things to pack, and the more he analyze the items on the floor, the more he realized that you hadn't taken anything that was bought with his money.

But that wasn't the thing that got his attention.

It was your wedding dress that had been taken out of its garment bag, across from it, an empty bottle of wine and a box of tissues with crumpled tissues surrounding it. It looked straight out of a movie.

He walked closer to the dress and trailed a hand down it.

He remembered seeing you wear it on your wedding day. He remembered being too pissed at his father to be able to fully appreciate how ethereal you looked. He remembered how when you looked at him, he could see the redness in your eyes, indicating that you had been crying.

But over all, he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you walking closer to him. Of course, he would never admit it outwardly.

His train of thought was broken when his butler knocked on his bedroom door, "master, dinner is served," he said.

Wooyoung cleared his throat and straighten out his posture, "yes, of course, I'll be there soon," he called out.

As the footsteps of his butler fade, he carefully zip your wedding dress back into its garment bag, making sure that the dress is stored perfectly.

After that, he went to the dining room to have his dinner.

Usually, you'd be seated in your seat, across from him at the other end of the table that seats 10 people. He'd have to admit that it feels weird not seeing you smile at him after a long day of working, but he forced himself to believe that it was a good kind of weird.

Strangely, as he eat his food he felt that it doesn't match his palate, that something feels off. So he called for his head butler and asked him about it.

"Did we change cooks? Why does today's dinner taste so bland?"

His butler seemed hesitant to answer him, looking at the head maid for a bit. The middle-aged woman stepped forward from her spot, bowing slightly to avoid Wooyoung's eyes, "we did not have any change in staffs, sir, it's just that the mistress used to prepare all of your meals and considering... the circumstances, she had not prepared anything for you," she said, not even bothering to hide her bitterness that he had drove you away.

Considerably, he was shocked that you had never brought the fact up to him. But as usual, he masked his true feelings and just nod at her, continuing with his meal even though he can't seem to enjoy it.

The shock didn't stop there, though.

Over the course of the first 5 days of you leaving him, he began noticing the things that indicate your presence in his house. Or used to indicate your presence.

He never knew that you were the one who always put flowers around the mansion. He noticed this when he passed by a vase of wilting aconite. It almost broke him when he see the maids cleared all flowers, leaving an empty vase that he now associate with your absence.

He never knew that you kept tabs on food he likes and dislikes. After 3 days, he gave up on eating the food his cook made for him, firing the poor man on the spot and resorting to take outs.

He never knew that you were the one who personally arrange his wardrobe. Usually, every morning he'd find his favorite shirts or favorite sets of clothes on the front, ready for him to pick out and wear. Now that you're not here, he had to spend extra time deciding what to wear.

And lastly, he was surprised at the fact that you had never made it to your hometown.

"What do you mean she's not with her parents?" He growled at his henchmen, making them visibly scared. "W-we tried looking for her, even asking around, but no one had seen her," he explained.

All Wooyoung wanted was to hear about how you're happier without him, how you've settled back to your life without him, how he'd be assured with the fact that you leaving him was the best thing that could ever happen to you two.

Feeling that he owed this for the sake of his own closure, he ordered everyone under him to find out your whereabouts.

The desperation suffocated him, he hated the feeling.

So he ran out of his office to his garden, going to the furthest side where it is practically abandoned so that he'd be all alone to calm his mind.

What he hadn't expect to see though, was several pieces of clothes on the ground. At first he just thought that the laundry might have flown away due to the wind, but when he inspected them closer, he recognized them as yours.

"Why would these be here?" He muttered to himself as he began picking up the scattered pieces of clothes one by one. When he picked up the last piece, he noticed your suitcase by the corner of the tall wall that surround his house for protection.

The sight that made his stomach drop was a rather huge hole that could fit a person.

Wooyoung's brain put 2 and 2 together and the only reasonable conclusion made him feel like blowing up.

You had been kidnapped.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez au #ateez story #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #ateez x reader #timestamp #ateez timestamp #kpop timestamps #smt timestamp

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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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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Obey Me: First Date - Brothers' Ed.

A Lucky demon wants to take you out on a first official date!

A/N: I‘ve been stuck in a mood so we get this!! (luci is he shortest with 900 words so take that as you will for the rest of the bois)

Lucifer:

It’s a classic date. You’ve both shared meals together- whether it be with the brothers and the others, or just the two of you, but even then, the meals were rushed, they weren’t something so intimate. He takes his time, with planning the date, the time and seating arrangements already plotted before he’s even asked you. Lucifer knows what he’ll wear, he knows what he’ll tell you and it’s all so simple in his mind. He isn’t nervous in the slightest when he approaches you, asking you for just a moment of your time and pulling you into his study. He clears his throat and he looks at you and for a moment, he’s breathless. Pride flows through his vein as blood flows through yours, but for just a moment, for a second that he catches, he’s speechless. However, it isn’t enough to deter him away from asking you to accompany him on a date. He’s in front of you, pulling you to sit beside him and he asks you if you'd be willing to go on a date with him. He tries to hide his enthusiasm when you accept, but it’s evident- his chest puffs a bit and he stands taller, rising up with a sly smile on his face as he tells you excellent, letting you know that he’ll tell you the details at a later time.

He fixes his attire, pulling on his blazer and making sure his keys and wallet are with him. He approaches your room, gives a curt knock on your door and will call your name. He’s the perfect gentleman, smiling and grabbing your hand, bringing it up to his lips where he merely presses them against your knuckles. He compliments you, telling you how wonderful you look. A thought floats in his head that he wishes he had matched with you, but as quick as it came, it’s pushed away. The restaurant is high class and when you give him a worried look, he raises a simple hand. This is a date, he’s going to treat you out. Perhaps it’s a bit much, too forward and high class for a first date, but he wanted to leave a mark. You two sit in a quiet area, closed off by screens away from people, and enjoy a nice dinner. It’s tense at first, you look like you’re lost and given how the meals you’ve had recently have been more than loud, he doesn’t blame you. He takes great care in easing you into the date-pleasantries shared that soon turn into conversations where he hides his smile and you laugh behind your hand.

Once dinner is done, he’ll take your hand and lead you into his car- opening the door for you and helping you inside. The date isn’t over yet, he wants to make this a moment to remember, to have you think back and look at it with fond memories. He talks to you, listing off that you’re going to see a play- it's one that’s been sold out for quite a while, a popular play based on some human myth. It’s for you- he wants you to experience a bit of humanity while here so he sits with you, enjoying the show and staring at your hand that rests on the arm rest. He’ll clench his hand and bite the inside of his cheeks, resisting the urge to take your hand. Pride has faltered for a moment, gone and replaced with a demon who stares at your hand for a bit too long. It isn’t until you tap on his shoulder, murmuring to him that you’re cold, that he removes his jacket and lets it wrap around your shoulders.

The play is over, done and finished with bows and cheers. You tell him how you enjoyed it, pulling on his coat tighter around your body. He doesn’t ask for it back, lets it linger with you a bit longer. It’s begun to drizzle once you’re outside. Your hand reaches out to touch the rain, your palm wet with droplets. The weather- he had forgotten to check the weather. His flustered nature is apparent, his hands tightening and pulling yours back, his eyes scanning for the car. He’ll raise a brow once you start to laugh, raising a finger and pulling an umbrella seemingly out of nowhere- a spell, no doubt. You share that umbrella to the car, taking on his role and opening his door, and closing it behind him.

The drive to the house is filled with idle chatter. You mention how you heard the myth once ago, and you’ll talk about another, wanting to get his opinion. The conversation soon turns into one of both of you chuckling over a Devildom show. It’s lighthearted and his stomach drops when you arrive home. He didn’t want this date to end- not yet, but it’s come to an end. Lucifer still wants to take your hand, to hold it and feel the warmth and how soft you are and though he’s wearing gloves, he’ll take them off to feel your hands. At your door, he’ll do something bold; he may not be able to hold your hand, but he’ll lean down and kiss your cheek, his hand slipping his jacket off from you, and tell you that he hopes you’ll consider another date with him. He bids you goodnight, a pink tint on his cheeks as he walks away, trying so desperately to not touch his lips.

Mammon:

To say that Mammon is nervous is an understatement. It’s not that he’s never had trouble with asking others out on dates before, but for some reason, it’s different. You’re different compared to the others and he’s unsure why it’s you that makes him so nervous to confess or even ask you out on a simple date. But it isn’t just a simple date; it’s your first date with him, the first date that you both will have. While he may have spent some time with you alone before- whether it be eating lunch together while you catch up on homework, or even watching a movie together- it’s never been seen as something like a date. The hangouts are just that, hangouts. There’s no kiss at the end, there’s no hand holding even if he so desperately wants to do that, it’s only him sitting beside you, trying to inch his pinky towards yours and focusing too much on how nice your smile is. He’s Greed, he wants everything, wants everything that’s shiny and expensive and he can have trouble saving money, but in order to take you out on a nice date, he saves up. He’s got a few things in his hoard that he can sell, make a small profit and it makes his blood boil to sell his things, it’s for you.

He opts for a casual date, one where it’s the two of you and maybe it’s a bit too overdone, but it’s with you and you make every experience nice. He doesn’t mind doing the same thing over and over, as long as you’re there. He comes to you, scratching the back of his neck and removing his yellow tinted glasses, and he’s stuttering, his lips scowling and pouting until he takes a deep breath and rubs his hand through his hair. He asks you out, plain and simple, giving himself an assured nod when you accept. He tells you to get ready- he makes claims about how it’ll be the best date you’ve ever been on and how you're going to have the time of your life. On the night of the date, he’s dressed in something nice- an outfit from a past modelling gig that he had and was able to take home. He holds a bouquet of flowers in his hands, the petals glistening with the faint mist, the lighting in the hall not enough to capture the beauty of the flowers and when you answer your door, he tenses when he sees how wide you smile. Your hands brush against his gingerly when you take the flowers and you’re gone for a moment, placing them in a vase you happened to have.

The engine revs to life, the lights flashing in the already darkening sky of Devildom as he exits the house. The drive there is filled with silence in the first few minutes, your hands on your lap and the music playing is too low to drown out the noises from the outside. He hates being so tense with you- it shouldn’t be this hard to engage in a conversation with you. You’ve been living with him for a good while now, he has a toothbrush in your room and a spare charger, he should be able to talk to you. And yet, he can only manage to tell you how the weather is nice. He feels like a child saying that and he presses a bit harder on the accelerator, until he hears you laughing. You look at him, eyes gleaming and smile blinding and you reply back to him. The conversation is easier, it’s light and fun and when you arrive at the restaurant, he can’t wipe off his grin.

He’s managed to take you out to a nice restaurant, maybe not one so fancy because he won’t be able to help himself from showing off, nor is it his style to do that, but it’s a nice one, one where music plays and chatter is echoed in the establishment. It’s a nice dinner. You two chat and dine, you steal food off of his plate when you think he isn’t looking and he does the same. It’s a dinner that he enjoys, where he laughs and gives you his undivided attention, hearing a story that he’s heard before but still being the best audience that you could ever ask for. He orders a dessert, a simple one where you two can share and when you ask him to open his mouth, he does so, biting on your spoon and having to go to the toilet to hide his burning face. On the way back, he wants to extend the date, rapidly searching through his phone, making sure that a show is playing at a drive-in theater. He drives fast, his hand on your thigh and squeezing it whenever he makes a turn. When he hears you laugh, he offers for you to choose the music, offering you his phone to search up whatever playlist you want or song of your choice. When the song is one that he recognizes, he sings with you, loud and laughing, finally slowing down on the accelerator, wanting to make the drive last just a bit longer despite being near the destination.

The movie plays, it’s one where you two end up moving to the backseat, the movie is ignored as you lean into him, thanking him for the date, and you’re curled up beside him. Mammon makes a teasing joke that you shouldn’t fall asleep near a demon- especially one so powerful as him- but you retort back, that you know you’re safe with him. You always are. He nods, unable to respond unless he wants his voice to crack. He’s emotional, there’s no secret to that, but hearing it from you, knowing that you trust him, is enough for him to never want this moment to end. He wants to be in the backseat of his car with you against him, your arm interlocked with his. The credits play and you’re asleep beside him, and as if you had known, you wake up. He doesn’t mind that you feel asleep, will only caress the side of your face and when it seems like he’ll kiss you, he’ll pull away, telling you not to worry about it. The drive home is filled with him explaining the movie, telling you that he had gotten bored halfway through and ended up just researching the movie on his phone. He walks you to his door and he leans for a kiss, his breath a gentle puff against yours, until he pulls away, telling you that he had fun and that he hopes you did too. Once in his room, he tells himself that he’ll ask you out again, and this time he promises himself that he’ll kiss you.

Leviathan:

Romance anime has prepared Leviathan for this moment. He’s had people slip away before due to his insecurities and his sin, but not this time. This time will be different. He’s been so involved in anime and drama that he can plan the perfect date for the both of you. It takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to finally work up the nerve to confess. He walks up to you, his hands fisted at his side and his face tinted red with his anxiety rising. He’s stern in his words, asking for you to accompany him on a date, while he tries not to stutter or look away from you. If there’s any time to have confidence, it’s now. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s this nervous demon- he is, but he’s more than that. He likes you and he’s going to show you that through a wonderful first date that is going to leave you wanting more.

He’s nervous and a part of him regrets asking you out but he couldn’t just not ask you out. He had to, he likes you and he likes spending time with you and you always listen to him and he’s so close to running and hiding himself in his room. His thoughts scream at him, telling him to get a grip. He can do this. With a shaky raise of a fist that has been held for far too long, he knocks on your door and waits for you to answer it even if the few seconds that you do are the longest seconds in his very long life. A part of him is terrified that you’re going to flake and another part actually wants you to, but then you open the door, and you look so pretty. Perhaps it’s a bit awkward at first, tense speech and him refusing to look at you, only mumbling a compliment under his breath and being unable to respond to you more than he can. However, once you ask him what you two are going to do on your date, his spirits lift. He talks slowly about the date, a hint of hesitation on his words that he was thinking about watching anime together but that maybe you wouldn’t want that and he decided that going to an arcade and winning prizes- because he’s really good at games- and maybe going to karaoke afterwards would be a good date. When you respond with enthusiasm about the date, he's more than thrilled, grabbing your hand and nodding along, so excited and relieved that you liked his ideas.

The arcade is something that he's looking forward to the most of all. He knows it’ll be fun to sing with you but he’s good at games. He has excellent precision and knows how things work. He can win things for you; he wants to so that whenever you look at the stuffed animal or whatever it is, you’ll be reminded of him and the date. When he’s focused, he’s an entirely different person. Every toss of a plastic ball into a hole guarantees for his score to continue riding, grinning at you and slightly competing as you manage to catch up to him. He holds a toy gun attached to a game steady and manages to hit every monster, pumping his hand and entering his initials into the machine. Wanting to make sure that you aren’t at a disadvantage with the games, he stands behind you, gripping your arms and positioning the plastic weapon near you, and he’s so close, whispering into your ear his hands cool against your warm ones and he doesn’t even realize how close he is until he looks at your flushed face. He backs away, laughing awkwardly and trying to calm his beating heart, pulling you to a crane game despite your round just starting. He shows off just a bit, ginning to you and asking what you would like and it may take him just a bit of rounds, but he gets enough for you to hold stuffed animals in your arms.

It’s late when you leave, a tote bag in your hands of some cute character that he managed to win with his tickets, holds the things he won for you. You play with the lollipop in your mouth, listening to him as he talks about how fun that arcade was and how he wishes that he could have an at-home one in the house. His hand is in yours, and he continues, bumping into you playfully when you mention how he’s had an unfair advantage at you at the games. The sign to the karaoke place gleams in neon, the colors blinking across your faces and he’s pulling you inside, eager to sing with you and eat the food there. The drinks are half-filled, the plates empty as you both sing, stumbling over the lyrics and laughing when your voice catches and squeaks or when he ends up mumbling through a rather fast tempo of the song. He sits you at the end, the television playing with the lyrics as the song plays and you two talk, your hands busy playing with a stuffed animal that he won you. When the time is up, he doesn’t ask for it to extend, rather offering to go back home.

His confidence throughout the date has finally worn thin. He’s gone back to wanting to go inside his room and sleep for a long while. He had fun, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s also exhausted. You stand beside him, giggling and practically skipping home, tugging on his hand and telling him how fun this date was. There’s been enough romance anime, manga and dating simulators in his life to know that this date was a success. You had fun and that’s what matters to him. At your door, he holds your hands, clearing his throat and asking if you would please consider another date with him. Leviathan doesn’t leave time for you to answer, a sudden boost of adrenaline bursting in his body, and he leans down. Hen pecks at the corner of your mouth and when he pulls away, he nods to himself, telling you goodnight and that he had fun as he rushes back to his room. Behind closed doors, he screams into a pillow.

Satan:

Satan won’t lie. His stomach twists into tight knots, his palms clammy and a growing red hue against his cheeks as he goes to you and asks you on a date- a proper one. It's something simple, something that he wants to share with you despite it being rather cliché. He’ll clear his throat in front of you, stand tall and linger beside you for a few moments. He wants you to accompany him to a bookstore. When you ask if the others will be joining he shakes his head, telling you that it will only be the two of you. He wants to take you out on a date, one where he treats you to a day of activities. When you accept, he nods his head with a smile already on his lips as he proceeds to tell you the details of the date. It’s something safe and expected, one that he knows that the both of you will enjoy and be able to talk and spend time together even after the date is over.

On the day of the date, he makes sure that he dresses his best, his shirt clean and pressed and he’ll walk to your room. He knocks twice with his knuckles, and once he sees the knob twisting, he curses internally- he should have bought you flowers or something of the like- he’s read about human cultures- romance and all, he should have known this. His thoughts are loud and his smile is strained until you open the door and stand in front of him, greeting him with a dark hue against your skin. He’s sure he can hear your heartbeat but even then, it could just be his. He clears his throat and offers his hand to you, complimenting on how well you look. The drive to the store is one filled with idle chatter, his grip on the wheel tight as he nods along and offers commentary that causes him to groan inwardly. He offers for you to get whatever you want, he doesn’t care about the price- not when it comes to you or books. He’s interested, peering over your shoulder and asking if he could borrow the book once you’re done since he would like to engage with you further. He’s close enough for him to smell the mint on your breath and the perfume that you wear and when he pulls away, he tells you that you should both get matching bookmarks- something nice and useful.

You’ll share a meal- nothing extravagant but filling nonetheless. It’s something to get your energy up, as you both head off for the next location. He tells you how excited he is for this one, it’s something that’s been rather popular as of late and he hopes that you enjoy it too. You attend an escape room- something safe for those who are not demons to participate in. He’s quite pleased with himself about this idea- it’s something new, something that you mentioned once about wanting to experience and now he gets to make it a reality. Although, it is for you, it’s also a date and the escape room allows for him to show off his intelligence. He’s excited, walking around and showing clues to you, and once you find the last piece, he’s excited, grinning wide and pulling you for a hug with his cheeks nipped red.

The ride home is filled with laughter. You praise him, clapping your hands and making up nicknames for him on the spot. You praise his intelligence, giving him credit for figuring out the harder puzzles and telling him how you would have never guessed about certain things. With each praise is him shaking his head, smiling and laughing as you continue. His cheeks hurt with how much he’s been smiling and his stomach aches with laughter. Yet, you continue on, complimenting him and you smile for him. He makes a mental note of having the both of you attend something of a similar caliber for your next date. It’s then that he realizes that he still has to ask you and somehow, he’s still filled with nerves. He takes a glance at you, his gaze meeting your reflection and you both share a smile. He’ll ask you out on another date soon, he promises to himself.

He helps you carry your bags to your room, and when you offer for him to stay so you can read a bit of the books together, he’s more than happy to make himself comfortable by your side. It’s quiet in the room, a comfortable silence when your arms touch and books are in your lap. Satan hates to admit it, but the words in the book are nothing more than just words, he’s much more focused on you, watching you read and let your finger run down the edges of the paper. He wants to talk to you, will continue and push for conversation about the book as to why you chose that one, and asking for recommendations or other books that you might want to read. Once it’s late, your eyes growing heavy and yawns much more prominent, he’ll bid you a farewell. He holds his books in his hands and sucks in a deep breath before leaning in to give you a rough kiss on your cheek as he tells you thank you for accompanying him on a date today. When he’s alone, he’s fiddling with the matching bookmark you both have.

Asmodeus:

It’s no surprise that Asmodeus has been on many dates with countless demons and humans, but even so, he tries to make each date something different, nothing that overlaps and can still come across as memorable. He’s already his charm to rely on and even without that, he’s beautiful and confident that most people fall for him and his advances. However, you don’t fall for him immediately and at first, it was something he lusted after, knowing that you were immune to his charm, but still attainable. He’s stressed over it, having to figure out if you’d prefer a more blunt approach or rather something classic, and it’s a difficult time for him. He’ll ask you on a date, his mouth becoming dry and chest still as he waits for your reply and once you accept, he gives an excited nod, making sure to tell you the details at a later point. Once in his room, he’s giggly, clutching at his chest and unable to stop his grin from growing. He has a date with you, and it’s going to be memorable.

He’s been so preoccupied with thinking about how to ask you on a date that he comes to a realization that he has yet to figure out what the date will actually be. The date has to be something that has left you with a fuzzy feeling whenever you and him would recount it. He wants to make the date memorable, something where he knows that if he had to recall the day, he’d be able to recall you, to recall the exact moments. It’s hours of research- dates that range from classic, to cliché, and even to things more on the adventurous side. Hours of research ends with him deciding to escort you to a botanical garden. It’s perfect for both him and you- you’ll be able to fit in with the scenery, something beautiful and he could flaunt his knowledge of the flora of Devildom and capture wonderful pictures for the both of you.

It’s a fine place for a date where you both can enjoy yourselves and spend some quality time together. He’s touchy, wanting to hold your hand but as he begins to move, his hand bumping into yours, he apologizes rather than holds it. He’s nervous. His charm doesn’t work on you- whatever you fall for, will be him, you’ll like him for him and not because of his abilities. It terrifies him for a moment, holding a camera with a stiff posture as he snaps a photo of you sitting at the fountain. He hadn’t even realized that he was so stiff until you came to hold his hand, your palm against his and it’s then that he allows himself to relax. He gives your hand a squeeze, going to thread his fingers with yours, opting to take a picture together at another exhibit, pulling you with him. He wants to take pictures with you- you both look amazing and it would be a waste to not have something memorable from this date. The pictures are cluttered with stickers and different poses- ones of you solo and others of him, and it’s fun for him. When your attention is taken from him, he stares at his phone, and a part of him wants to show you off to his followers, but he keeps the pictures to himself, sliding the phone into his pocket and grabbing your hand to lead you elsewhere.

Afterwards, you are taken to a wine testing. It’s more for him rather than you, just a way for the nerves that linger on him to finally give away. It’s simple and he’s greeted when he enters, already purchasing the tickets and keeping you close to him. He walks with you, sipping the drinks that are offered and when you take some, he clicks his tongue. He’s forgotten that most of the alcoholic drinks in Devildom don’t have an effect on you. You make a remark on how it tastes like juice only to peer at him and clear your throat. You bring a hand to your chest, posed dainty-like and with the drink in your hand, you make some outlandish remark that has him sniggering. He mimics you, having fun and eating the few snacks provided, making claims how the wine is exquisite. When finally alone, he whispers to you how the wine is actually rather fine, nothing too extraordinary.

You two rest in his room, his legs resting above yours and his hands busy as they massage yours. He’s laughing, his cheeks a bit flushed and eyes closing slowly as he listens to you tell him how you enjoyed the date. His fingertips run over your nails, tracing the edge of it and sliding back down your finger, to intertwine your hands together. When he hears you yawn, he opens his eyes, rising to rest on his forearms. He’s handsome, he’s always been, but with flushed cheeks and slightly ruffled hair and the light in his room making his skin appear as if it were glowing, then it’s a different type of handsome. Asmodeus brings your hands to his chest, his hand clenching tighter around yours. He’d offer for you to sleep in his room for the night, but he’d rather have you wait until you were comfortable with that. He walks you to your room, telling you that he had a wonderful time. At your doorway, he kisses the tip of your nose and thanks you for the date and that he hopes you’ll consider another one with him. In his room, he stares at the pictures that you both took together, making the one that you had taken together, his lock screen.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub is stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wants to ask you out on a date and he’s positive that you would agree to go out with him- even just for one date- but he doesn’t know where to take you. He’s tempted to take you to an all-you-can-eat buffet but that’s more for him rather than you. He thinks about taking you on a hike but even then, you might not be used to the more natural terrain of Devildom and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you accidentally hurt yourself with him. A horrible aspect of his sin is that people assume that whatever he has to say will be about food and while they might not be totally wrong about that- most of the time- it isn’t his fault. His sin is gluttony, he’s in a constant state of hunger that he isn’t able to control. A buffet or dinner would be something that you both have done again and again, and he wants something new, something where you two can spend time together that can be new and fun. With his phone in his hand, he sends you a quick message asking if you would like to go on a date with him and when you reply with a yes, he can’t stop smiling.

The day before the date, he’s still scrambling to find something fun for the both of you, not wanting to do anything out of the ordinary for him and nothing too extraneous for you. He’s scouring the internet until he lands on a perfect idea. He’s sure that he has chosen the best date that you have been on. It’s a simple thing- taking you to a pottery date. It’s fun and simple and you two can paint the already available statutes together. He’s a bit bummed that you aren’t able to actually mold something into shape but it was a last minute plan that he had come up with and you still seem to enjoy the aspects of painting something with him. He and you talk over the music that varies from the different realms and when he starts humming a song, he can feel your eyes on him. He shrugs his shoulders, looking away with red tipped ears as he continues to paint the sculpture. Midway, he clears his throat and calls your name. It’s a silly idea, and he’d understand if you don’t want to do it, but he’d appreciate it if you would swap sculptures for a bit- think of it like those online trends, just for a few minutes for him to paint yours and vice versa. It helps if you think of it as a reminder of the date and when you agree, he’s ecstatic, carefully painting onto yours, so careful to not mess up the art that you’ve already done on it. Once you both are done, signatures dotting the areas that belong to yours, you leave the sculptures to get glazed and he has the brilliant idea of having that as an excuse to bring you back for another date.

As his luck would have it, once you both exit the establishment, his stomach growls. He’s hungry and while he’s able to keep a decent control of it, he knows that his nervousness for the date isn’t helping his hunger. With a rather embarrassed expression decorating his features, he asks to go get something to eat. He didn’t want this date to be about his sin, for him to have to admit that food is something permanent on his mind but when you cup his face, titling him towards you, you nod. You eat a quick meal, sitting beside him as you eat from a container, offering him some of your fries in exchange for a sip of his drink. He can’t help but stare at your lips when you tap a sip from his straw and without being too eager, he takes a sip following you, his stomach twisting into knots when he realizes that you both had an indirect kiss.

After a quick meal, he decides to take you to an aquarium. He knows that you haven’t seen a good portion of the animal life of Devildom and you’ve mentioned before how you’ve always been a bit interested in the ocean so he decided that an aquarium would be perfect. He holds your hand and as you both walk around, he makes a few jokes that you can’t quite tell are jokes or actual statements about how he had probably eaten a few of the sea creatures when he was just starting out with his sin. He holds your hand, walking through the tunnels as creatures swim above and beside the both of you. You hold his hand tighter, bringing yourself closer to him when a rather dangerous looking creature keeps eyeing you. He waves off your concern, explaining a bit of the sea life, holding your hand tightly and pulling you close. He offers to take you to the gift shop if you’re getting a bit too scared, and a part of him hopes that you’ll accept. He wants to get you something from there despite how expensive the times could be, but it’ll be another memory of the date that you both shared.

With a steady hand, he guides you to the gift shop, letting you pick whatever you want as he chooses a matching one for himself. Beelzebub wants this date to be something that he’ll have memorabilia for. He wants the matching stuffed animals or pottery with each other’s work done on it. He wants to be close to you, to share something with you that no one else can. It’s been a long day, one where you’ve walked the entirety of the aquarium, and he can tell that you’re growing tired, your steps smaller than before. He offers to carry you- it’s something that he’s done countless times due to loving affection. He carries you on his back, a hand on your thigh and holds your hands that wrap around his neck. He chats endlessly, talking about how some of the sea creatures are harmless, how others eat things with more meat, and anything else as long as he can hear your voice and feel your breath against the shell of his ear. At your door, he wants to kiss your lips, wanting more than just an indirect kiss that you both had shared but he can’t bring himself to do that just yet. He kisses your cheek, his bottom lip pressed against your jawline and the other on your cheek. Once in his room, he asks if you’d be willing to have another date with him, his heart beating rapidly as he holds the stuffed animal in his hands, waiting for your reply.

Belphegor:

The Avatar of Sloth finds himself at a loss on where he could take you to on a date. He wants something special for you, wants the date to outshine any dates you've been on before or will ever go on, but even he knows that that is a feat that he can’t accomplish. Belphegor knows his sin better than anyone else. He knows that he gets tired easily and that most things drain his energy or at least seem to despite how much he actively wants to do something. There are only so many date ideas that he can decide to take you on that don’t involve too much energy. So fixated on where to take you, he realizes with annoyance that he hasn’t even asked you out on a date but even then, the two things go together. He can’t have a date without you and he can’t have you without a date. He wants things to be fun, he wants you to have a good time with him and want to have another date with him. It’s a first date, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s supposed to be where the both of you can be together and have fun, but for some reason, he’s unable to come up with anything original. Perhaps it would be easier to ask you out first and then maybe with a time limit, he could rush to pick something fun for the both of you. Without realizing the time, he sends you a quick message, telling you that you two will be going out soon.

Despite thinking that having a limit would help him figure out things faster, it only serves to stress him out more than necessary. He wants to take you somewhere you nice, somewhere where you two can talk and not run the risk of any awkward silences. He thinks about taking you to a movie, that way you two would have something to talk about afterwards but a part of him worries that he would end up falling asleep. He opts for a picnic date. It’s something that can be done together and he’s sure that you would enjoy it. He plans extensively, buying foods that the both of you like, making an effort to buy a nice basket and finding the perfect blanket that will add nicely and be soft to the touch. The day of the picnic, he feels a bit out of place walking up the hill at the park, holding a picnic basket as you hold the blanket he had gotten. It’s so much work and he can already feel himself growing tired but he forces himself to stay awake.

The moon glows brilliantly above the both of you and there’s a gentle breeze. You both assort the plates and meals, and when he catches you taking a quick bite of a snack, he can only snort. You sit beside him, eating from your plate, and looking up at him when he’s a bit too silent. He doesn’t want to force a conversation because he knows that it’ll sound tense but the moment is tense and he hates it. He doesn’t want this date to be tense- he wants it to be fun but he doesn’t know how. When you steal from his plate, he glares at you only to end up laughing when you smile innocently at him. The conversation grows easier, fluid and laughter as you both lie beside each other on the blanket. He points out the constellations that he can see, telling you stories about them as he inches his hand closer to yours. His fingers circle around your ring and pinky finger as he continues to talk without a pause in his voice. His voice grows soft, his words gentle as he tells you that at a different part of night, you can make out a constellation that happens to be his favorite. He doesn’t voice that he wishes for you to join him for another date in order to catch a glimpse of it.

With tired limbs, you both head back home, only to stop in front of a coffee shop. It’s early enough that you both stop inside. You both order something sweet to drink, leaning beside each other at a table. You tell him how back in the human realm there are moments of different types of moons and that you always enjoyed seeing the moon grow so big that you could see the craters, taking beauty in the moon and making a reference to something that he doesn’t understand. You can only snort at his confusion, finishing your coffee as you lean your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t know whether it’s his sin affecting you or just the fact that you’re tired, but he takes you home, finishing his own cup and holding you hand in his.

The picnic basket is devoid of food, the blanket wrapped neatly and tucked between your arms as you both make your way home. A part of him wishes that he could ask you to spend the night with him, just to cuddle and sleep together, but he knows that it might not be appropriate given that it is your first official date with him and not him pulling you onto his lap. He’s at the steps towards the attic, his gaze everywhere but at you because he doesn’t know how to end the date. Of course, he wants another one, of course he enjoyed it but he doesn’t know what to say without it coming off as sarcastic. He fiddles with the end of his shirt, watching in the corner of his eye at how you begin to open your mouth. Maybe it would have been better to hear what you had to say, a desperate attempt to extend the date just a bit longer, but he wants to hug you. He pulls you close, buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets his hands slip to the middle of your back. His breath is hot on your neck as he tells you that he’d like to have another date.

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pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

Reminds me of home

Jesper Fahey x reader

words: 5.5k

warnings: mentions of food and animals, reader’s mother is dead, no pronouns used for the reader

A/N: this is my first time writing Jesper, so I struggled with his character and don’t think this is totally right, but I loved writing this too much not to share it with you :) please let me know what you think, thank you!

The sun was setting slowly in the sky, painting orange strikes on a gradually darkening canvas, when Jesper checked the note in his hand one final time, before stepping onto the driveway of the old farmhouse. Around the farmhouse lay a yellow-green grass lawn, with on the left side of the house a little garden with flower beds in full bloom. Behind the house stood the stables and sounds of breezing horses and bleating goats filled the air, along with the lingering scent of drying grass.

The front of the house was covering in shadow, the red bricks and woodwork a tone darker than they would be in the sunlight. Above the front door hung a single lamp, and the flickering of the fire inside of it wasn’t enough to compete with the light of the setting sun.

Jesper groaned as he walked over the driveway to the front door. He wondered what the odds were that he had pulled the farm out of the stack with hideouts.

A week ago, Kaz had come with his plans for a new job. This time the victim was a rich merchant, who had a large estate in the country lands outside of Ketterdam. The merchant’s name was Klaas Rover and he was well-known in wealthy circles.

Just recently, Rover had bought a very pricey DeKappel painting and Kaz had found out that he was moving the painting to his country-estate at the beginning of that week. The basics of the plan had been easy. As long as Rover wasn’t at the house and the painting was, it would be impossible to get it with all the security. But, according to Kaz, there would be one moment of weakness in the security. From the morning Rover would step foot into his mansion to the night he’d fall asleep there, the merchant would want to showcase his painting to everyone who’d want to see it. That night had been the night to strike.

And so had Kaz done. He had set out with a small team; Inej and Jesper had been at his side, followed by two other Dregs, Pieter and Roos. The whole operation had gone according to plan and the painting had come off the wall and outside without a hitch.

That was why it had come as a surprise when Kaz had pulled out three pieces of paper with the notion that they had to hide for a couple of days. Inej had gone with Kaz, Pieter and Roos were together, and Jesper was alone.

‘Remember, you are Thomas van Dijk now,’ Kaz had said before they had parted ways. ‘You are a student and stranded alone after a trip with your fellow students. I know the people there and they will take you in.’

Kaz had disappeared before Jesper could say anything and he had seen no other option than to follow Kaz’s orders.

So now he was standing in front of a farmhouse, silently cursing his friend before knocking on the door.

A broadly built man opened the door and eyed Jesper suspiciously. This one tried to keep his easy posture and smile, but he felt himself grow slightly uncomfortable under the gaze of the man.

‘What do you want?’ he asked brusquely.

Jesper swallowed and his hands automatically reached for his hips, finding nothing but air there as he had hid his revolvers in his bag, figuring it wouldn’t be too great of an entrance. He scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous chuckle.

‘I’m Thomas van Dijk,’ he started, wondering if the man would ever believe him. ‘I uhh… I was out with friends—a break from studying, you see? And this morning when I woke up they were gone and they took all transport… so I was wondering if I could perhaps stay here until they pick me up again?’

The man glanced at Jesper for a while. ‘D’you know farm stuff?’ he then asked.

‘Sure,’ Jesper shrugged, figuring that it couldn’t be all too hard.

‘Alright, then,’ the man nodded and stepped aside to let Jesper in, ‘you can stay here for a few days.’

Jesper sighed relieved and walked into the farmhouse, only realising inside that he had had no plan if this hadn’t worked out.

The interior of the house reminded Jesper of his home in Novyi Zem. The walls were painted in a warm colour green and an old rug lay on the stone floor. On the wall in the little hall hung a portrait of a beautiful woman standing in a field of wildflowers. She had long hair framing her face, falling down in curls around her shoulders. The woman looked like she was in her late thirties, but she had a smile that was ageless.

Jesper followed the man into the next room, which was the living and dining area. There was an open door that led to the kitchen, from where Jesper could smell whatever the man was cooking. Another door probably led to a staircase, Jesper figured by the shape of the little space behind it.

The main room was an extension of the hall. The same green coloured the walls here and more paintings hung on the walls. Jesper recognised the woman in more pictures on the wall, and sometimes she was accompanied by a child.

Jesper looked around, wondering where the rest of the household was. Kaz had spoken about more than one person, but so far Jesper had only seen one; and that one was standing right in front of him.

‘You can sit there,’ the man said and pointed at the chairs around the table. ‘You want dinner?’

‘I’d really appreciate that, sir,’ Jesper said and the man nodded before he disappeared into the kitchen.

-=-=-=-=-

The sky was dark and the last rays of the sun were setting behind the horizon when you heard the bell from the kitchen, telling you that dinner was ready.

You always spent so much time outside that your father had given up on trying to find you for dinner. Instead he had installed the bell to let you know when you had to come home, and when you cooked you used it to get your father back home.

You got up from your spot on the ground next to Klara. She was the oldest cow you had at the little farm and she had been your mother’s favourite. However, two nights back Klara had suddenly fallen ill and so far she hadn’t improved yet. You had spent the last two days neglecting your duties at the farm to take care of her. Klara was the one thing that was closest to your mother and you refused to say goodbye to her too.

Silently you slipped from the stables and walked back to the house. There was light burning behind the windows and you saw the silhouette of your father inside, sitting at the dinner table. In a flash you thought you saw your mother there too, but as you blinked the image fell away.

Stepping through the backdoor in the kitchen, you kicked off your boots and shrugged off your coat. Quickly you washed your hands and face and arranged your hair, before you walked into the living area, knowing that your father liked you to not be messy at dinner.

‘Klara’s not any better,’ you said as you walked into the room. ‘She’s just lying still and—’

You stopped talking as your eyes found the stranger at the dining table. He was sitting opposite of your father, looking at you with a smile. The boy could be not much older than you were, but by the way he was clumsily sitting in the chair, you saw that he was a lot taller than you. His dark-skinned body was clothed by a dark green suit with flashy, golden buttons, lined with a silky lime-green fabric. Below his dark eyebrows two eyes glittered merrily and his smile got a little more confident as you sat down at the table.

‘What’s going on?’ you asked your father.

‘This is Thomas,’ your father answered, nodding towards the strange boy. ‘His friends ditched him and he needed a place to stay for a few days. With the situation around Klara, I figured a little help at the farm wouldn’t hurt.’

You stared at your father for a moment and then turned to Thomas. ‘Are you from the city?’

The boy nodded. ‘Yes, I go to the university in Ketterdam.’

‘What happened?’

‘We had a few days off and decided to go on a trip here. But when I woke up this morning my friends had left. I have no transport home and after searching for a place to stay all day, I got here.’

‘Nice friends you have,’ you mumbled and something in the boy’s face turned bitter.

‘Don’t get me started,’ Thomas said and then he smiled at you.

-=-=-=-=-

Jesper was woken early by a heavy, pounding headache. The sky outside was pink from the sunrise and with the figures of the trees and houses it looked like a painting to Jesper—one that was far more beautiful than the one he stole from Rover.

As he rolled over in his bed and reached for his temples, it didn’t take long for Jesper to realise that it wasn’t his head that was pounding—there was someone at the door of the room. Groaning Jesper sat up in his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the sleeve of the shirt that he had borrowed to sleep in.

‘Coming, coming,’ Jesper groaned when the knocking kept going.

He opened the door and was met with your eager face, painted with a big smile. You chuckled at Jesper and shook your head. ‘Come on, Thomas! Work doesn’t wait!’

Just for a split second Jesper was confused as to why you called him Thomas, but then he realised that the whole show he was putting up here was nothing more than that; a show. You didn’t know who he really was and, if he was honest, Jesper did feel a little guilty about it. You were so kind to him and he hadn’t even given you his real name.

This was not the time for morale questions, however, and Jesper shook the guilt off him. ‘Right,’ he said slowly and then glanced into his room, finding the bag he had dumped on the floor. He had not brought anything other than his guns, the clothes he had been wearing and a little money. ‘Do you perhaps have some clothes I can borrow?’

Half an hour later, Jesper was standing in the stables next to the house with a buttered slice of bread in his hand. He was wearing a linen blouse and trousers of rough material that you had given him. He felt naked without his guns resting on his hips, but taking them with him had been out of the question. Now he felt like the Jesper he had been before he had gone to Ketterdam—poor, weak and unskilled.

You came back with a large sack in your arms, that you dumped into Jesper’s arms. He stumbled under the sudden weight, but managed to keep his balance.

‘My dad’s out on the fields today, so we have to take care of the stables,’ you said. ‘If you feed the chickens, I’ll do the goats and then we’ll get together again, okay? Don’t forget the eggs!’

You turned around and walked off and Jesper was left baffled. Unsure, he turned and walked to the chicken coop, finding a bunch of chickens there. A fat, white one looked up when Jesper stood over the coop and cooed softly. The chicken kept staring at him as he walked around the fence and Jesper slowly began to freak a little.

He put his hand in the bag with food and grabbed a handful of seeds that he threw as far away from him in the chicken coop as possible. All the chickens rushed to the food—including the fat, white one—and Jesper quickly stepped over the fence and lowered to his knees so he could reach into the henhouse. He was met with the angry eyes of another chicken that was still sitting inside the house. She pecked at Jesper’s hand while he tried to find the eggs that you wanted.

When he finally pulled back, he had found six eggs. His hand was throbbing and even bleeding at some places. As fast as he could he walked away from the chicken coop back to the stables, where he dropped the sack with food on the ground and sat down next to it, examining his hand.

After a few minutes you came back from the goats and the smile on your face changed to worry when you saw Jesper sitting defeated on the ground.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked.

Jesper quickly jumped up and nodded, hiding his hand behind his back. He forced a smile on his face and tried to look excited at you. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’

You squeezed your eyes at him but dropped the subject. ‘Okay, if you say so,’ you mumbled and then nodded your head to the back of the stables. ‘We have to check on Klara again before we go on.’

‘Klara?’ Jesper asked.

You walked off to the back and Jesper followed you, ending up at a dark stable where a big cow was lying on the ground, breathing deeply. She had her eyes closed and Jesper thought she was asleep, but when you stepped into the space, the cow opened her eyes and looked up at you.

‘This is Klara,’ you unnecessarily explained. ‘She is our oldest cow, but it’s not looking so good for her now.’

You lowered to your knees and rested your hand on top of Klara’s head. The cow closed her eyes at the feeling and let out a deep breath. You closed your eyes momentarily and as a troubled shadow crossed your face Jesper realised that Klara wasn’t just another animal at the farm to you.

‘Will she be alright again?’ Jesper asked, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the stable.

‘I really don’t know,’ you sighed and you looked up at Jesper with sad eyes. ‘She’s not worse than yesterday, but also not any better.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jesper said and he tried to give you a reassuring smile.

You got up from the ground and gave Jesper a little smile back. ‘Thank you.’

-=-=-=-=-

Later that afternoon Jesper was sitting with you in the shadows of the house, looking out over the fields that surrounded the farm. Somewhere far in the distance he could see the figure of your father, as a little black silhouette against the bright light of the sun.

Jesper was exhausted. Although he considered himself in good shape, the work on the farm was completely different from what he usually did in Ketterdam. Normally he would crouch, run and hide, but today he had had to use brute force and the running had only applied when one of the goats had gone after him.

‘And,’ you said as you handed Jesper a glass of water, ‘how do you like it here?’

‘I’m so tired,’ he whined dramatically and you laughed, throwing your head back. ‘But it looks beautiful here. I like it—reminds me of home.’

‘Where’s home?’

Jesper hesitated for a moment, considering where his actual home was.

‘I grew up in Novyi Zem, on a jurda farm,’ he told you, while staring out at the fields. ‘My dad still lives there, works on the farm now that I… am going to the university in Ketterdam…’

Carefully Jesper looked aside after his slip-up, but you hadn’t caught it. With your legs tucked to your chest and your arms wrapped around them, you were sitting in the chair, taking in the sunlight with your eyes closed. There was a soft golden glow on your face from the sun and the point of your nose glistened.

‘...I guess that’s my home now,’ Jesper continued. ‘Ketterdam.’

‘Hmm,’ you hummed softly before you opened your eyes and looked at Jesper. ‘What’s it like? To live there?’

‘You’ve never been to Ketterdam?’

‘I have, but never for a long time,’ you said, giving Jesper an innocent smile.

‘It’s… busy, noisy, crowded. There’s people everywhere, at all times of the day. When it’s hot the canals stink and when it rains the entire city turns grey. The rich people are mean and the poor are gross. It’s never safe and there’s a lot of crime.’ Jesper stopped talking to take a breath and noticed you were watching him with a raised eyebrow. Then he smirked. ‘It’s amazing.’

You leaned back in your chair and huffed. ‘I think I prefer the silence of the country.’

‘I get that. On my first day in Ketterdam I wondered how I could ever live there. I was sick with longing for home and the farm.’

‘What happened?’

Jesper grimaced. ‘I got a taste of real life.’

You waited for Jesper to continue, but he said nothing. He couldn’t really, not if he wanted to obey Kaz’s orders. Again he felt bad for you, for lying to you. You were so kind to him and all he did was lie about who he was; you didn’t even know his real name.

-=-=-=-=-

You stepped out of your room while the sun wasn’t even up yet. The house was silent and dark, but you could easily find your way to the room you were headed for. This was the house you grew up in and you knew every secret hidden in every dark corner.

‘Time to wake up!’ you said through the door and you knocked shortly.

Yesterday, Thomas hadn’t been of great use with your animals, but you hoped that today he would. He had told you that he had grown up on a jurda farm so you figured fieldwork wouldn’t be as hard on him as the goats.

There was a grunt from inside the room and you had to stifle a laugh. Once again you knocked—a little harder this time—and the grunt from inside came back louder. Yet there was little movement in the room and you rolled your eyes and grumbled something about lazy rich boys from stupid universities, before you threw the door open.

‘What—hey!’ Thomas cried out. ‘I said I was coming!’

‘Sounded a lot more like you’d just roll over again,’ you said, leaning against the doorpost with your arms crossed.

Thomas murmured something incomprehensible and he threw the blankets off of him. ‘If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked, you know?’ he smirked as he swung his legs off the bed and stretched his arms over his head.

‘Hmm, if only I wanted,’ you shot back, but you couldn’t keep your eyes from gazing at his chest anyway. It was dark, but your eyes had gotten used to the darkness enough to be able to see the lines and shapes of Thomas’ bare body. There was no denying his fitness, but what caught your attention more were the scars littered over his torso. From small, almost innocent lines to light-coloured circles and dents. For the simple student he claimed to be, he had an awfully damaged body.

You averted your eyes from his chest and shook your head. How this boy’s body looked was none of your business, so there was no point of dwelling on it. Yet, as you turned around to leave the room, you found yourself fighting the urge to get closer and feel his body under your hands.

‘You like waffles?’ you asked over your shoulder, seeing a big smile break on the half-naked boy’s face.

-=-=-=-=-

Your father had worked on the fields yesterday, and most work had been done already. All there was left for you and Thomas to do was harvest the potatoes on the last piece of land and then sort them with the rest. It was heavy, dull work and you were glad there was someone to help you.

Thomas and you were bent over the crops, working opposite of each other on a row of potatoes. The sun was shining on your back fiercely and you felt it burning on your neck. It was long too late to prevent the sweat from breaking out and you felt hot and sticky.

Opposite of you, Thomas wasn’t doing much better. Little droplets of sweat were rolling down his temples and the shirt he was wearing was soaked with his sweat. Yet there seemed to be some sort of glow around him, like he was energetic still—even after the hours of labour.

It was late in the afternoon when you pulled out the last of the potatoes. You and Thomas dropped down on the grass on the edge of the field, both sighing with relief that the hard work was over.

‘Only sorting left,’ Thomas said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. ‘How long will that take?’

You squeezed your eyes against the afternoon sun as you looked at the boy next to you and shrugged. ‘About two hours, I guess.’

‘Two hours in this heat is an eternity,’ Thomas stated.

‘We could do it tonight,’ you suggested. ‘After dinner, when it has cooled a bit.’

‘And what do we do until then?’

You shot Thomas a cheeky smile and got up from the ground. ‘I have an idea.’

You led Thomas through the sunny fields and over the meadows around the farm, ignoring the sunshine in your face. Eventually you slowed at large bushes and a few trees and you smiled at the boy before you pushed aside some branches and stepped out into an open spot with a small lake.

Thomas burst out in laughter and turned to you with a big smile on his face.

‘Last one in the water has to get the other drinks!’ he shouted as he threw off his shirt.

You followed after him, stepping out of your shoes and trousers. As you ran towards the water you took off your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind you on the grass. You pushed off on the side and wrapped your arms around your legs as you jumped into the water next to Thomas with a cheer.

The cold water engulfed your entire body and you happily welcomed it after the whole day of sun. Gasping for air when your head reached above the water again, you turned to Thomas.

‘You were last!’ he exclaimed.

‘Only because you were already in the water when you said it!’ you defended yourself and splashed water towards Thomas.

‘Still counts!’

He pushed water back and you closed your eyes against the waves. Water dripped down your hair and face, getting stuck in your eyelashes. You blinked the drops away and swam a little closer to Thomas.

Planning to create a huge wave, you lowered your hands in the water, when you felt something slimy slither past your foot. You squealed and leaped into Thomas’ arms, almost drowning him with the sudden weight. Terrified you scanned the water around you, looking for the thing you had felt.

‘What’s wrong?’ Thomas asked, trying to keep you in his arms while staying above the water.

‘I felt something!’ you squeaked, still looking around you.

‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of fish,’ Thomas laughed.

‘I am not! I just freaked because I—’ you started but stopped when you quit looking and found yourself very close to Thomas.

That same deep urge as this morning crawled inside your mind before you could stop it. Despite yourself you admired the simple beauty of the face so close to yours. This boy had something enchanting, and it was more than just his jokes and smirks. Something about him made you want to cling onto him and not let go.

You did let go, however, and quickly swam back to the side in silence. Thomas followed you and climbed on the grass, offering you a hand so you could get out of the water yourself.

As you got dressed—with some difficulty because you were both still wet—far in the distance you heard the sound of a bell, telling you that dinner was ready.

‘Finally,’ Thomas said, as he pulled his shirt over his head. ‘I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t eat at all.’

-=-=-=-=-

Jesper was sitting alone at the back of the house with two large baskets of potatoes in front of him. Luckily it had cooled down and it was now pleasant to sit outside.

You stepped out of the house with a tray in your arms. Two glasses of lemonade and a plate of biscuits stood on the tray that you put down on the ground between Jesper and you, before you sat down yourself.

‘How generous of you,’ Jesper started, as he took the glass. ‘Almost like you didn’t lose the race.’

You shook your eyes as you took a biscuit, which you used to point at Jesper. ‘That race wasn’t fair, and you know it.’

‘Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.’

You rolled your eyes but there was a smile on your face nevertheless. Then you nodded towards the baskets.

‘Two piles,’ you said. ‘One with small potatoes and one with normal and large.’

You took out a few potatoes and showed Jesper how to determine the size. He got on quickly and you were already starting on the second basket when your father called you away.

Jesper continued on his own while admiring the sunset he always missed in Ketterdam. He loved living in the city and wouldn’t want it any other way, but in moments like these he did miss his old home. He missed the simplicity of life back then, of knowing exactly what was going to happen in your day. Living in the city, living with the Dregs, had taken that certainty from Jesper.

The sun had almost completely set when you came back and the last rays of sunshine reflected in the tears on your face. You sat down with a sigh next to Jesper and before he could ask you what was wrong, you burst into sobs.

Before thinking, Jesper dropped the potato in his hand and crawled to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to his chest. He didn’t know where the action came from or why he did it, but seeing you so heartbroken hurt Jesper’s own heart.

You buried your face in Jesper’s neck and he wrapped his arms a little tighter around you. He could feel your quivering breaths on his skin and your tears soaked his shirt but he didn’t care.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered and pressed a kiss on the top of your head without a second thought. ‘Let it out. It’s alright.’

After a while your tears stopped and your quivering breath changed for hiccoughs. You lifted your head from Jesper’s shoulder and looked at him with an apologetic look, that he discarded immediately.

‘Don’t even dare to apologise,’ he said and you laughed softly. Jesper wiped the tears from your face and cradled your head in his hands. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Klara,’ you said as Jesper dropped his hands from your face to your hands. ‘My dad went looking at her and she’s doing even worse than before. I know she’s just a cow and everything, but she’s the strongest connection I have to my mother and I just…’

You looked up at Jesper and smiled sadly. ‘I don’t know, it probably sounds weird.’

Jesper shook his head and gave your hand a little squeeze.

‘It doesn’t sound weird,’ he said, thinking of how he had clung to the littlest thing of his mother after she had passed.

You sniffed and smiled at Jesper. ‘Thanks.’

‘Of course,’ he said, as he sat back next to you, taking a new potato in his hand.

You followed his example and for a while you worked in silence, until Jesper took the last potato from the basket and threw it on the pile left of him. He turned to you and found you staring at the dark sky.

‘What was your mother like?’ he asked finally, giving in to his curiosity.

‘She was perfect,’ you said and you smiled faintly ahead of you. ‘She was caring, kind and smart. She kept things going around here. There is not much to do, but she always made sure I was never bored.’

You laughed shortly and turned to Jesper. ‘Perhaps I’m a little biased; she was my mother after all.’

‘Maybe,’ Jesper said and he gave you a smile. ‘But you’re allowed. Who better than kids to judge a parent?’

‘She was beautiful too,’ you added. ‘Did you see the paintings? My dad used to paint a lot, but since my mother passed away he hasn’t picked up a brush. It’s a shame, I think he’s really talented.’

Jesper nodded. He had wondered why the paintings had only been of the woman young, but she hadn’t aged anymore after that.

Now that the sun had set, the warm air slowly turned cold. Jesper fought the urge to wrap his arms around his own body. He looked at you and noticed the goose bumps on your arms too. He got up and offered you his hand.

‘Come on, let’s go inside,’ he said. ‘It’s freezing out here.’

You took Jesper’s hand and followed him to the backdoor of the house. When you walked past the path that led to the stables, you slowed and pulled lightly on Jesper’s hand.

‘Can we…?’ you asked and before you had finished your sentence Jesper nodded.

‘Of course.’

The stables were warmer than outside and though Jesper still hadn’t gotten used to the smell he much rather be there than outside. He much rather be there with you than alone in his bed.

Klara lay in the back and you let go of Jesper’s hand to rush over to her. You dropped to your knees next to the cow and wrapped your arms around her. Big tears rolled down your cheeks and the soft sound of your crying filled the barn.

Jesper sat down in a pile of dried hay and stared at his hands as he listened. After a while your crying stopped and only the heavy breaths of Klara could be heard. Feet shuffled and when Jesper looked up you weren’t sitting next to the sick animal anymore but next to him.

Your cheeks were still wet from the tears, but you managed to give Jesper a little smile. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. Slowly he leaned back in the hay until his back found support and he was almost lying down.

Without needing more words, you pulled your legs on the hay and settled against Jesper’s body. With one hand to your own chest and the other rising and falling with the motion of Jepser’s chest, you quickly fell asleep.

Jesper glanced down at you and almost got unwell by the sense of comfort that washed over him. The longer he looked at you the more that little bubble of guilt in his stomach grew, but before he could do anything about it the hard work of the day took its toll on him and he dozed off.

-=-=-=-=-

You woke up in a pile of hay by something that was nudging your leg. Slowly and grumbling against the bright morning light you opened your eyes to find a cow standing in front of you.

‘Klara!’ you cried out and the happiness that filled you at seeing she had recovered during the night drowned out all the sleep left in your system.

You jumped up and stumbled to the cow, throwing your arms around her neck. A few tears of happiness escaped your eyes and they dropped down on Klara. After last night you really didn’t think she would recover anymore, let alone be standing on her own feet.

As you hugged Klara, you suddenly remembered that you hadn’t been alone last night. You let go of the cow and returned to the hay you had woken up in. Instead of the boy you had fallen asleep against last night now lay a little note.

Good morning sleepyhead,

My friends finally picked me up early this morning and you looked too peaceful to be disturbed. I want to thank you and your father for letting me stay at your humble farm. It did me good to be out of the city for a while. I want to thank you as well for your company and honesty. I really hope Klara gets better—she seems quite cool.

I know you don’t like the city, but if you ever accidentally find yourself there and you miss my sparkling presence, go to The Crow Club and ask the bartender for Jesper Fahey. They’ll know who to find.

Take care,

Thomas

- - - - - - - -

taglist: @is-it-really-a-secret @mrs-brekker15

MASTERLIST

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey #jesper x reader #fahey x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #crows x reader #the crows x reader #soc #shadow and bone imagine

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mjimy · 3 years

Text

Celebrating mother

A mother's day special? Kinda, The pro heros celebrating with You!

Hawks, Fatgum,Aizawa ...

Hawks

Get ready for this bird and your little one to sing at the top of their lungs to wake you up

When you open your eyes the first thing you’ll see are bouquets of flowers bigger than your little son

A breakfast in bed especially for you

Your child will rush you to open his gift first, a necklace with a locket with a small photo of the three of you

Also a drawing and a letter made by him thanking you for being his mom because you’re the best mom in the world

You thanked him in tears as I held you tight

Hawks came in with a box something big, sat next to you while kissing your cheek

-what's your plan ? - you asked him in a rogue tone while you opened the box, he just smiled , as soon as you saw the content you were speechless

A stylish dress (f/c), strapless, a matching bracelet and a note with the reservation for the most elegant restaurant in the city

-I just want to make happy the woman who gave me the greatest treasure- Hawks took out a ticket for a weekend at a resort and spa

You just kissed him and thanked him for the detail, your husband and your son sat next to you for breakfast everyone in the room

However when You got up to the kitchen the first thing you saw was the mess in the kitchen of the so-called breakfast

-keigo!-

-yes love? - he answered as he arrived at your side, -in my defense we tried to make your breakfast with love- he excused himself for the mess

-you ordered home right Kei? - he just smiled and promised that he would clean everything up

Fatgum

First mother's day

He’d wait for you to wake up and get in the bath to prepare you his surprise

The dining room was arranged with balloons and a huge congratulations sign, which even your friends signed and an amazing breakfast (this man has incredible skills in the kitchen)

As soon as everything was ready he going for your babies to dress them up in a jumpsuit that said "happy mother's day" then he set them up on the stroller to wait for you to come down to eat

When you came out of your bedroom you found arrows stuck on the floor to guide you to a surprise

Arriving at the first station It was waiting for you a Polaroid camera that said "take me"

You went your way and found a box of photos of when you and the hero were dating and when he proposed to you

Coming out of there,the arrows led you to the dining room, where your beautiful family were waiting for you, fatgum threw confetti

You hugged him , he gave you a bouquet of flowers with a card that said "thank you for forming a story with me and giving me the most wonderful adventure in this life"

At that moment you knew that the Polaroid was the most important part to preserve that adventure, so taking your little ones in your arms, the family puto together as much as you could to take the first picture of the mother’s day

Aizawa

Family isn’t always about blood

The shift at the agency was rather long since you covered the shift of a companion to celebrate with her family

When you got home you saw the lights off, thinking Aizawa might have gone out

You lay down on the couch, when a little light caught your eye, it came out of your bedroom so you decided to investigate

As soon as you opened the door there was a cake with a candle on your dresser, next to it a couple of cards

It was easy to know that Eri had made one that said how much she loved you and even if you weren’t her biological mom, she loved you as one because you took care of her, you played with her and helped her with her homework. The only thing you could do is smile

The second was signed by hitoshi, a short message where he thanked you for having accepted him into your family and take care of him as if he were your son

Next to the cake was a photo of the 4 of you, took the first time you took Eri to the zoo, that weekend you had a great time even shinsou stayed to sleep in the house, watched movies and made breakfast together

-It is not necessary to be a mother to bring that love to others- Aizawa interrupted your thoughts, came in and took your hand to kiss it, you hugged him and kissed him

Aizawa guided you to the dining room where Eri and Shinsou were with a spectacular dinner,"happy mother’s day" both welcomed you with a hug

You have dinner together, talking about their day, when you finished they cleaned while you relaxed -thank you guys, you gave me an incredible family- You said with the biggest smile

304 notes · View notes

the-broken-truth · 3 years

Note

I loved what you did with the Donna ask. Could I request a part 2 where Donna's son starts interacting with the other lords and Angie? Maybe include Donna getting more possessive if her son since he's finally back on his feet and other people and taking him away from her, not used to him being away from the house?

Broken Truth: Well, she did make sure her son was strong now she has to protect him from her greedy family! Let the words weave together and see what Donna shall do to keep her son!

[Beneviento Estate]

"Which do you think is better, Angie? The Blue One or The Black One?" [Y/N] asked the doll as he put both the ribbons up to the collar of his dress shirt. He had a mirror to his left but he couldn't make the choice himself and asked the Wedding Dressed Doll that sat on his dresser this question.

"Why does it matter? You look good in both of them." Angie said.

"Thanks for the compliment, Angie, but I want this to be perfect. Mother gave me her father's Beneviento Tie Brooch and I want to look as sophisticated as he did." [Y/N] said with a smile at the thought of himself being honor to the Benevienot Name.

"Alright...Um...The Black One." Angie said.

With a smile, The Young Master looked at the black ribbon as he placed the blue ribbon back on his dresser and grabbed the Beneviento Insignia Tie Brooch from the dresser, and weaved the black ribbon in the back before bringing the dangling brooch to his shirt - the wings of his collar upward - and tied the brooch around his neck before lowering the wings. He reached and got his House Jacket off the vest of the coatrack in his room and wore it. He looked at himself in the mirror with a smile - he was distracted with his appearance that he didn't hear the door open until his mother spoke to him.

"You look like a truth Beneviento, [Y/N]." He looked at his mother who smiled at him as Angie ran over to her mother.

"Thank you, Mom. Are you ready to go?" The son asked as he walked over to his mother.

"Yes. I'm unsure why Mother Miranda wanted to have dinner at Alcina's Castle but...as her daughter and servant, I must listen to what she says." Donna looked to the ground, she was not looking forward to this dinner.

Mother Miranda said this dinner was going to be about integrating [Y/N] as the Offical Heir of House Beneviento and Future Lord of the Village should anything happen to Donna. Donna made sure Miranda knew about this arrangement when [Y/N] was born but she never took interest in him while he was sick but now that he was better...now that he could move around on his own...

Donna didn't like it.

She saw the way her siblings looked at her son - he was no longer the weakling that couldn't do anything for himself. He was grand. He was powerful. And most importantly, he was hers.

He was her son.

Her pride and joy.

And the fact that other people were taking interest in him now that he was better...it angered the Lady of Beneviento. But Donna was a woman of calming mist, not raging fires - that was Heisenberg's Department; however, she was a mother and she would not let anyone take her son from. She just...had to be careful of what she said and how she did things.

The Mother and Son got their coats - [Y/N] actually wore his grandfather's long trench coat that bore the Beneviento Crest over his chest, it was a perfect fit for the future Lord Beneviento. The two of them walked out of the house with Angie riding on [Y/N]'s shoulder and they headed to Castle Dimitrescu.

[Upon Arrival To Dimitrescu Castle]

"Ah, Donna. I was wondering when you would arrive." Alcina said as she met her 2 new guests at the door. She looked at the tall male beside her sister and smiled. "And this must be Little [Y/N]; he doesn't seem so little to me anymore."

"Greetings, Lady Dimitrescu." He said in a respectful bow but Alcina just laughed and waved her hand in dismissal.

"No need for formalities, my boy; we're family. You can call me 'Aunt Alcina'." She smiled - Donna didn't like that same.

"Um...Okay, Aunt Alcina." He smiled nervously - he never really interacted with the other lords so he wasn't sure what to call them.

"Well, come, My Little Nephew!" Alcina placed her hand on his shoulder and led him away from Donna, "Your Cousins, Uncles, and Grandmother are waiting to get to know you." Alcina said - leaving Donna there...NOT!

Donna marched over to her son and grabbed his hand and pulled him away from Alcina, who looked at her with confused eyes.

"He is my son, Alcina; I can bring him to the dining hall myself." Donna said as she pulled her son along to the dining hall where the other Lords, Alcina's Daughters, and Mother Miranda were waiting for them.

[Y/N] and Donna walked over to their chairs but the son pulled out his mother's chair before he pushed her in and took a seat himself.

"A Gentleman. We don't see much of that anymore." Alcina said as she took her seat.

"I raised my son well, Alcina." Donna said.

"And I'm grateful for having her as my mother." [Y/N] smiled at his mother.

The maids came out with dinner and everyone ate in silence.

[After Dinner]

"Now, unto the matter we are here for." Miranda said as she wiped her mouth of wine. "Donna, why haven't you given any reports on how the Cadou has affected [Y/N]?" She asked.

"What would be the need to do that, Mother Miranda? [Y/N] isn't an experiment, he's my son." Donna said.

"While that may be the case - anything relating to the Cadou must be run by me." Miranda said as she looked at her daughter who just stared at her.

"Mother, I gave you the information of the Cadou I used in [Y/N] but that wasn't the thing that healed him - it was medicine from a recipe I happened to come across." Donna said.

"It doesn't matter if the medicine made him better - I want to know how the Cadou affected him but you didn't tell me in your notes." Miranda said.

"It shouldn't matter since my son is not an experiment, Mother. I don't feel comfortable talking this, Mother." Donna said as she rose from her seat and her son followed her as she left the castle with her son in tow. There were many displeased faces at the dinner table.

[A Few Days Later]

The phone rang and [Y/N] roses from his seat where he was with his mother and answered the phone.

"Beneviento Residence." He said.

"Aunt Alcina?" He questioned; that made Donna look up from her tea and look at her son - why was Alcina calling them?

"No, I don't have anything to do at the moment; I was drinking tea with mother." He said.

"You want me to come over to tea? I'll ask mother to see..." He stopped for a moment, "You want me to come alone?"

'What?!' Donna questioned in her mind.

"Um...Okay. I'll be there in a moment." He hung up the phone after a moment and looked at his mother, "Um...Aunt Alcina invited me for tea with her and her daughters. I'll be back in an hour, Mom." He said as he walked out the door after putting on his coat.

"What was that about?" Angie asked as she jumped on the table.

"Alcina invited him for tea." Donna said with displeasure on her face.

"Don't worry, Donna; he can take care of himself." Angie said.

"I know he can...it's just...I'm used to him not being home; he's been here for years and now that he's better and moving around...I just have this strange feeling that someone might try something." Donna said as she looked at her tea.

[Timeskip]

The next few weeks weren't any better - every one of the lords called Beneviento Manor for [Y/N] asking him to spend time with them or spending nights at their places. Alcina had Heisenberg even set up rooms at their places for him when he came over. Whenever there was a lord meeting, the other lords would ask Mother Miranda if [Y/N] could attend but Donna would say no - her son would be at home doing what he wanted without the lords bothering him.

"We don't bother him, he loves hanging out with us; more than you, Donna." Karl would say.

Today - it was a Lord Meeting and Donna was ordered to come. [Y/N] said he was going to rearrange and plant some new flowers in the garden - the flower girl gave him some new seeds and a discount, Donna was sure she was flirting with her son.

Donna arrived at the meeting and took her seat and it was...quiet.

Karl and Alcina would usually argue about something but they were quiet at the moment. Everyone waited for Mother Miranda to speak.

"Now - the purpose of this meeting isn't about the village or even the ceremony." She started.

"Then what is it about?" Donna asked.

"It's about [Y/N], Donna Dear." Alcina said with a smile across her red-painted lips.

"What about him?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Listen, we get he's your kid and all but he needs something more so we think it's best if he came to live with one of us for now on." Karl said.

Donna...was...pissed.

"What did you just say?" Donna hissed.

"Listen, Donna - you did a perfect job raising him but I think it would be best if [Y/N] came to live with me at the castle. The girls love him and see him as a brother; they are always wanting him to move over and him living there would be better for him and my girls." Alcina said.

"Like hell you'll get him, Lady Super-Sized Bitch. The kid is a boy and we men need to stick together. He's a fast learner and I need that in my factory. I'll be a better father for him." Karl said.

"NEITHER ONE OF YOU ARE GETTING HIM!" Donna yelled as she rose from her seat with a glare.

"Donna, calm yourself." Mother Miranda tried to say but was cut off.

"NO! YOU DON'T SAY ANYTHING, MOTHER!" She looked at her Sister and Brother, "LET ME TELL YOU TWO SOMETHING: HE IS MY SON! YOU HEAR ME?! MINE! I RAISED HIM! I WAS THERE FOR HIM WHILE HE WAS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE! ALCINA, YOU WILL NEVER BE HIS MOTHER AND HE WILL NEVER BE THE GIRLS' BROTHER! KARL, YOU WILL NEVER BE HIS FATHER; HE HAD A FATHER AND HIS FATHER DIED! I DON'T GIVE A DAMN HOW MUCH YOU THINK HE SHOULD BE WITH YOU; IT'S NEVER GONNA HAPPEN! HE'S MY SON AND YOU ALL CAN FUCK OFF!" Donna roared.

Everyone was silent.

You could hear a cotton ball drop.

Donna rose from her chair and walked out the door and went back home to her son.

HER SON.

She was quiet about her son visiting them but the moment they fixed their lips about taking him away from her...they are on Donna Beneviento's Shit List.

#donna beneviento #alcina dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #mother miranda #resident evil 8

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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 years

Text

Out from Darkness - A vampire!Chris Hemsworth/OC Halloween special story.

So here it is, guys, although it fills me exclusively with trepidation to share this as I am unusually unconfident in what I’ve written. It’s set to be a full length story, I was going to post the second chapter later tonight, but I’ll see how well received it is first, I think! I’m going to work myself up into a state while I wait for feedback, or have a troubled nap, either way, arrrrgh!!

Note - Some vampire lore is that of Bram Stoker, some a little Charlaine Harris, and the rest my own. I thought I’d mix together in order to create how I wanted my version of the undead to be :)

Masterlist

Word count - 3,870

Cast of characters post here

Tag list - In the comments

Warnings - Chris as a vampire, witches, magic.

In the dim light coming from the many candles lit around her bedroom, Ava sat cross legged on her bed, concentrating hard on the dried flower in front of her. Tuning out all other noises, her mind going blank, she allowed the energy to flow, watching as the gerbera daisy rose up off the bed, smiling as with her hands outstretched but not touching it, she manipulated its path through the air, the dead flower dancing up and down.

Focusing upon the stem, she made it float upright, concentrating extra hard as she imagined what she wished to happen. “Flower of the earth, bloom once more. Come back from death and burst forth with colour.” It wasn’t a real incantation, but she had read that calling for what you wished sometimes did assist the process, Ava’s eyes focusing in on the petals, willing the dead to be pulled out.

“Miss Ava! Dinner is almost ready!”

At these words following the knock at the door, the flower fell from its levitated position, Ava muttering. “Okay, Aubrey. Coming.” Sighing, she scrambled off her bed, placing the still dead flower back into its vase arrangement on the dressing table of her bedroom that was entirely too girly for her tastes, save a few items here and there she’d successfully begged her mother for.

Blowing out all the candles, she excited her room, seeing their housekeeper Aubrey descending the large spiral staircase of the grand home she lived in. Of course, the big, fancy house came with the big, fancy title held by her father, governor of California, Mitchell Martin. Their South Arroyo home was lavish, to say the least

“Honey! How was college?” The man himself greeted her with, standing from the dining table to hug her, kissing her cheek. He’d been gone on business for a couple of days, this the first time she’d seen him since he arrived back.

“Pretty good, yeah. I dressed my model in my first piece this morning, it’s all ready to sew tomorrow. The pattern worked well, fortunately!” Ava was a textile student in her last year of college, with aspirations on designing her own clothes for a living. Her father wanted her to be the 2100’s version of Coco Chanel, but Ava was more modest. A boutique or two would be sufficient.

“Yes, wonderful!” Of course, he wasn’t really listening. He never was when the food was served, it wasn’t personal. He couldn’t be blamed, their chef, Andre, was next level. That evening, he’d served jumbo shrimp, curried with saffron rice and homemade cardamon seeded naan breads. Her father was a big fan of spicy foods.

“Okay, Rayleigh. Your turn to lead us in prayer tonight,” her mother spoke as she sat down, her eyes sparkling with fondness as she took in her three children. Ava was the eldest at nineteen, then Hallie next at thirteen, and Rayleigh the youngest at ten. The family joined hands around the table, bowing their heads.

“Bless us oh lord, for the food we are about to receive. May we be nourished by it as we are your love, guidance and mercy. Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Beautiful, Rayleigh. Enjoy, everybody.” Ava thought it sounded so phony of her mother to speak that way, almost like it was her culinary efforts they were about to sample. The closest she got to cooking was advising Andre over menu choices. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made anyone in the family something to eat, but thought on it as she began to eat through her first mouthful of curry.

‘Birthday cake? No. Sandwich? No. Ahh, yeah. Mashed potatoes after I had strep throat.’ It wasn’t a bone of contention at all for Ava; she found it more humorous than anything. After all, her mother had sat up with her into the small hours just two weeks ago, helping her hand stitch a project that had gone drastically wrong, wanting her daughter not to fail and also to be able to get more than four hours of sleep as well.

Sadie Martin might not know her way around the kitchen, or be able to give the location of any cleaning products within her home, but she was most certainly hands on with raising her children. She sat and listened diligently as all three explained their plans for the following evening after the press visit they would have to attend, posing for pictures, the perfect, all-American family handing out candy to trick or treaters in celebration of Halloween.

“We’re going urban exploring. Well, less urban and more forest and surrounding areas,” Ava revealed when it was her turn. “Austen wants to get some night shots of the trees and the sky and so forth, so Megan and I said we’d go with him too up to the forest.”

What she meant by forest was in fact the sprawling, natural beauty that was Angeles National Forest Park, about a half hour walk from their home.

“Are you going to go to the vampire house?” Rayleigh chirped excitedly, sandwiching curry into his naan bread, his mother tapping his hand in reprimand for scattering rice everywhere.

“You and your silly stories, son!” Her father interjected, shaking his head.

“It’s true, there’s one up there!”

“We might pass it by and take some shots, but we’re not going simply for that, no.” Ava informed him, thinking her brother and Austen shared the same enthusiasm there. He also believed the tale of the vampire of Angeles Forest, people swearing that just for a moment, they’ve seen a shadowy figure lingering around in the undergrowth of the abandoned cabin up there, the figure always gone within a blink.

It was a tale that had existed for as long as Ava or either of her parents could remember, her own grandmother even attesting to have once seen him. Of course, most viewed the story with much dubiety. Vampires were creatures steeped in myth and folklore; not real entities in modern day Pasadena, or anywhere else for that matter.

“Well, you be careful. Home by eleven, too.”

Her friends would be allowed to remain out much later, but Ava, being the governor’s daughter, had an image to uphold. One she was increasingly becoming frustrated with. She loved her parents dearly and was immensely proud of her father’s career trajectory, but it left very little room for freedom, any kind of freedom. Mostly though, to be the person she truly was.

Case in point, her abilities. She could never tell her parents that she was able to move things with her mind, or that it wasn’t purely coincidental that lightbulbs would blow when she became angry (which wasn’t often, but still) or that she’d once successfully changed the colour of her eyes temporarily, her mother thinking she had contact lenses in. They were stalwart Christians; they’d see her abilities as ungodly, as some form of heresy. Ava knew this well.

The word witch couldn’t be uttered within their home without negative connotations arising, Ava knew this for certain without ever having done it. She often thought that her parents were likely descended from those who would tie her kind to a stake and light a pyre beneath, back when the witch burnings were sweeping the globe. Then of course she reasoned, she had to have gotten what she was from somewhere in her family line. She doubted she was quite that much of an anomaly.

They wouldn’t care that she only ever used her abilities for good, though, like extinguishing the flames that had once threatened to burn the kitchen down once when Andre had a flambe related mishap, or that she’d saved her little brother from having a falling pot of paint land on him when they were having the house redecorated, making it splatter on the floor next to him rather atop his head.

Well, mostly she used them for good. There had been a few instances back in school of her bullies ending up with pubic lice or nasty rashes, but she’d administered a counter spell for them after a short time, once her amusement was served. She didn’t tend to do much of that ilk any longer, unless she saw a real injustice. She’d once viewed a man slapping his wife, not just once, but multiple times. He’d swiftly been set upon by two angry seagulls.

That was the extent of it, though. Ava knew she could use them for a lot more, command much more. She also knew she was getting stronger as well, but she had a wise head for her young years and a good heart. She wasn’t interested in anything past being able to help others secretly and help herself a little where needed.

For instance, as she got ready after posing for press pictures with her family and finishing some assignment notes the following evening, locating her keys presented an issue.

Holding out her hand, she closed her eyes momentarily and concentrated. “Keys.” A second later, and they’d uncovered themselves from beneath her pile of dirty laundry and flown into her outstretched hand. “Okay, and she’s ready.”

It would have taken a mere few minutes to drive, but without a car at that moment and with so many sights to see through the neighbourhood with it being Halloween, she and her friends decided to walk instead, both Megan and Austen living locally, meeting her outside the front gates to her home.

“Woah, your decorations are insane!” Austen exclaimed, appreciating the witches that flew around the trees on hidden mechanisms, the ghosts that drifted up and down behind the wall and the large spider climbing up and down the tall, wrought iron gate itself. Blake, their groundskeeper had definitely excelled himself that year.

They took the suburbs route over to the forest, heading down small streets rather than taking the main roads, enjoying the festivities, the decorations, the kids running around and having fun.

“No way, look! Life sized horror characters from old movies! See, there’s Freddie Kruger, and Leatherface, and Michael Myers!” Megan laughed, pointing at the figures scattered across the lawn they were about to pass. Appreciating how real they looked, the trio nearly dived out of their skin when Michael Myers suddenly sprang to life with a scary shout, laughing thereafter while they screamed, Ava and Megan clutching each other, Austen tripping down the kerb.

“Happy Halloween, kids! Here, even though you’re not dressed up and likely think you’re too old, take some candy, come on.” The man spoke, offering forth a large bucket containing a plethora of full-sized candy bars. Making their choices, they thanked him and continued, laughing after calming down from their fright, Austen feeling a little ridiculous he’d screamed quite as loudly. Still, the chocolate went a way to take the sting out of his embarrassment.

As they walked, Ava chewing through her mouthful of caramel and peanut buttery goodness, she remarked at how lovely everything looked, how real it all was. Her home might have had some of the best decorations for miles around, but it was all fake, all so contrived. It was glossy, purely for the photo opportunity. None of it was real. Everything had a feel of shiny, glossiness to it in the Martin household.

Her parents wouldn’t even open the door to the trick or treaters. Aubrey or another of the house staff would likely be sent while her father reclined in his lounge with a scotch and a Ridley Scott movie, her mother certainly punishing herself in the gym before partaking of a steam. It hadn’t always been like that, but it certainly had since her father attained the position of governor four years ago. Life seemed less authentic now they had a show to put on.

Heading further out, ducking down side roads and around larger patches of grass until the houses became fewer and further between, they reached the route that led to the forest just as the light was beginning to fade, Austen removing his camera and beginning to take shots of the sun setting through the trees.

Walking further in, they happened upon one of Austen’s favourite things to capture, the budding photographer always finding something new in the gigantic meteor that had fallen to earth along with hundreds of thousands of others eighty-six years ago that coming December.

It had been a cataclysmic event, one that experts predicted would wipe out the human race almost in its entirety, but life, as always, had found a way. It had taken the time between for the remaining people to rebuild, repopulate and continue, but it had been a success. Of course, it did mean that life was no further along than it was back in 2042, technologically speaking, but at least they had life at all.

The girls chatted while their budding photographic genius chose angles to shoot, the kids all looking upon the giant rock with quiet awe and respect for dead, feel extra thankful for the lives they got to lead, when so many family lines had been wiped out.

“I know one of us inevitably says this every time, but I’m so glad we weren’t alive back then. It must have been so scary,” Megan mused, hugging Ava’s arm as they looked up at the meteor, shattered and ragged from its descent through the atmosphere when it struck earth.

“Remember when those survivors came in to talk to us about it in high school? It still gives me a lump in my throat.” Yes, it was something Ava would never forget, her and her classmates, not a dry eye in the room as an elderly man recounted the time when he’d watched the earth burn.

On they continued, scoping out further scenes to shoot, wandering through the giant, redwood trees while Austen continued to click, following the trail right around to the small lake. Past there, the trail narrowed, heading downhill, the forest floor providing some more beautiful treasures for Austen, fungi, wild flowers and the like which he adjusted his camera flash to and captured, the girls chattering between themselves.

“That reminds me, with him shooting flowers. Did you have any luck?” Of course, Ava’s best friends knew she was a witch. She was lucky that they didn’t judge her for it, like other people had if they’d noticed strange things emanating from her. In fact, they both thought it was cool and were very supportive of her.

It made a change, since Ava had long been bullied throughout school for being weird and now at college wasn’t overly popular either, being the governor’s daughter. Well, except the phonies who feigned friendship to see what they could get out of her rather than for genuine reasons, but she saw through those people swiftly enough.

“I tried, but Aubrey came knocking and ruined my concentration. I was going to give it another go tonight, but I didn’t get chance with the photo shoot and all,” she lamented, jumping up on a fallen tree and looking down the hill, just about able to see the top of the cabin which everyone dubbed the vampire house.

“Try with this leaf, here. He’s busy, we’re just milling around, so give it a go!” her friends enthusiasm was touching, Ava smiling thinly and taking the dead leaf from her, holding it between her thumb and forefinger as she focused, letting go once she had it in her mind’s grasp. She knew what she had to do, imagine she was pulling the death out of it, but gosh, it wasn’t easy. Imagine a regular person trying to slide a security door open after the electrics had failed; that was the difficulty it was akin to for Ava.

Staring hard, the leaf began to twizzle around, fluttering in an unseen breeze, Ava honing in all her focus on it, her hands shaking at her sides as she stared until her eyes hurt, vaguely aware of Austen creeping over to watch, Megan’s face suddenly lighting up.

“It’s going green!” she squeaked in whisper. To her delight, she witnessed it, the brown, crispiness replaced by the slow spread of green, the veins all moistening as she dragged the dead out of it with her mind, her head suddenly beginning to burn.

“Ava, stop now. Your nose.” Austen said with concern, watching as a drip of blood ran onto her lip. Just then, Ava felt a huge wave of energy hit her, the rest of the leaf immediately turning bright green within a fraction of a second. Reaching, she grasped it, Megan taking a tissue and dabbing her nose, a common side effect if she tasked herself too hard.

“You did it!” She enthused, Ava continuing to examine her accomplishment.

“I didn’t think I was going to either, but then I just felt this massive influx of energy and my abilities spiked hugely. Wow, that was incredible.” Pleased with herself, she pocketed the leaf, wanting to take it home and cast it in resin (as was a hobby of hers for jewellery making purposes) as a little trophy of the first thing she’d brought back to life.

“Maybe this is you continuing to get stronger? Either way, we’re very proud of our little magical person.” Austen began to clap, Megan joining in too as they beamed and then hugged her, all of them walking off in search of the next photographic opportunity. All the while, Ava noticed that the energy she’d felt when using resurgence upon the leaf continued to hum around her, growing even, her body lightly starting to tingle the further they walked.

Taking the path to the right where it forked, which led back in the direction they would have entered in should they have followed the main roads up there, they continued to stop every so often, Austen changing lenses and managing to get a beautiful shot of an owl in a nearby tree, proudly showing it off to his friends. On they continued, this time their destination clear; the cabin. The vampire house.

It had likely once been very beautiful, but now was sadly in a shabby state, covered in moss and creeper vines all over, the surroundings all overgrown, save a path that trailed the perimeter and was just about clear enough to walk. Stone steps took them down to the house itself, Ava feeling the energy grow with each further footfall, stopping for a moment to gather herself. It must have been something residual from her success with the leaf, because she’d walked past the old cabin many a time in the past and never noticed anything.

With the almost full moon shining through the trees, the way was lit well enough for them to abandon the torch, walking around the property, Austen even attempting to peer in. “No way, this wasn’t here before! Look at this, these are window tints to prevent the light getting in! They mean a room can be illuminated, but they won’t actually let sunshine in. You can see out, but no one can see in either. See? That’s a huge giveaway that the rumours are true!”

“Those windows have been like that for years, come on! You’re reaching, as usual!” Megan scoffed, pulling him away from the window, shaking her head. Ava turned and laughed softly, watching them continue around, calling to her that they’d be down the other side where a small stream ran through.

“Alright.” She called back absently, recognising a few flowers that she’d been hunting down for spells and picking a few, placing them safely into her pocket along with the leaf. Continuing to walk, she found more, excited to see them blooming so late in the year still. She’d almost filled her pocket and was ready to head down to the stream when she suddenly felt something behind her, something strong, the energy she’d felt previously now staggeringly robust.

She felt her back ripple and stiffen, like she’d just leaned against a sheet of ice, all the tiny hairs upon her body rising up as her breath caught in her throat. Behind her, lurked someone, or something, the energy pouring from the unseen entity. She could feel it so palpably, and whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Frozen to the spot, Ava closed her eyes, gulping hard. ‘Don’t turn around, don’t turn around, don’t turn around.’

Her heart thundered in her ears, mouth drying, body jolting with fright when she heard a low, rumbling rattle of a growl coming from right behind her, the noise neither human nor animal, but definitely all beast. She knew she had to open her eyes at some point, open her eyes and get herself out of there. She couldn’t remain frozen to the spot.

Her eyelids finally fluttered open to reveal nothing, Ava blinking a few times. It was in the space between one of those blinks that he suddenly appeared, the entity she’d felt so strongly. Tall, pale, well-built and staggeringly handsome, staring down at her with a look of piqued curiosity.

Dumbly, she just started back, held fast by his gaze, the moonlight catching the azure of his irises as he leaned in closer to her, studying her, smelling her, narrowing his eyes, a grin beginning to spread across his face. Ava wasn’t entirely sure whether such was sexy, or sinister. All she did know was that no one had ever looked at her quite that intently before in all her life.

She thought her heart was about to beat clean out of her chest, daring to blink just once, in that blink finding herself alone once more. ‘What on... who on earth, no, what on earth, was that? Was he?’

“Ava? Where are you? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, coming!” She called, running around the back of the cabin, following the sound of Austen’s voice.

“Hey, you look flushed, are you alright? Didn’t meet anyone, did you?” He teased hopefully when she arrived with them. Ava could still feel him lurking close by, but out of sight, off of anyone else’s radar but hers. Her friends were none the wiser.

“No, there’s not a soul around, unfortunately for you. I guess the stories are just stories after all. Come on, let’s go.”

“Yeah, alright,” he began reluctantly, turning and getting one more shot of the house. “At least I got some decent pictures, though.”

Heading off, she hung behind, not able to resist turning back one last time.

“Bye.” She whispered into the darkness; her attention attracted by the sudden presence of two glowing red eyes shining out from within the trees, one closing and then opening again. It was him, although she had no idea how his eyes had changed from blue to red, it was definitely him who just winked at her. She knew exactly what that wink conveyed, too. It said thank you, for not revealing his presence to her friends.

Was he a vampire, though? A ghost? Neither?

Whatever he was, Ava had never felt an energy like his before. She was also certain that no matter how frightened of him she’d been, her curiosity would lead her back, even though she knew she probably shouldn’t let it.

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth fic #chris hemsworth vampire #chris hemsworth x ofc #chris hemsworth x oc #vampire #vampires #vampire fanfiction #vampire fanfic #vampire fic

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