#curt wild x y/n

[beensbaee]

𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

summary; neteyam has always avoided y/n due to the fact that he cannot trust himself around her - but what happens when he is tasked to teach her?

pairing; neteyam!teacher x y/n

word count; 3.5k

HER BEWITCHING BOY

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It was no surprise Y/n and Lo'ak were such good friends. Both of them had the same wild nature that always got them into trouble - and a distinctive laughter that caught everyone's attention.

Unlike Lo'ak, she was the tiniest bit more responsible. She was also more immersed in the clan too - often spending her free time playing with the younger children and asking the elders all sorts of questions - even finding new paths in the forest with Kiri to travel on.

Her relationship with little Tuktirey was just as sweet. She'd often find all sorts of ways to have the girl giggling and smiling, whether it was by making faces or telling her stories so silly that Tuk couldn't even contain her amusement.

There was just one Sully kid she wasn't close with. Neteyam was a year older than her - and he'd always kept his distance from Y/n.

She was not blind. She'd see how he'd be sitting comfortably with his family until Y/n would come. Even Jake had seen the way the boy's smile would falter as he would suddenly begin looking anywhere that wasn't towards her - giving her a curt greeting before excusing himself and leaving.

She'd try not to look hurt - but everyone saw how her ears fell in embarrassment at his behavior towards her. Lo'ak would brush it off, telling her to ignore him. Kiri herself would be confused but would always choose not to say anything as she took it upon herself to make the girl feel more welcomed and forget about her eldest brother's reaction.

Neteyam always seemed conflicted when his parents would bring up his apparent dislike for her - sometimes claiming he didn't notice he was treating her differently, and other times remaining silent when questioned why he treated her like she was something to avoid completely.

The truth was that he himself did not know either.

Well he knew, but refused to accept the fact.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Y/n was shuddering, Lo'ak howling with laughter as Kiri rubbed her arm soothingly

"It is ok, Y/n. Not everyone is perfect at aiming." Kiri said as a way to comfort the girl, discreetly kicking Lo'ak's leg and giving him a look that quickly stopped his laughter

"Eywa, I could have killed him." She groaned, hiding her face with her hands as Kiri looked at her with a frown

"But you didn't!" Lo'ak chirped up as Y/n sighed, slinging off the bow that had been on her back and holding the wood firmly in her hands

"As if he didn't already hate me enough." She mumbled, Lo'ak finally turning towards her with concern

"He doesn't hate you, Y/n. He's just... dumb?" He tried, but Y/n only sent him a sad smile

"He's a hundred times smarter than you!" She laughed, Lo'ak rolled his eyes as Kiri joined in with her own grin

"Come on, it is time to eat." Kiri said as the three teens made their way to the central part of the village where the clan gathered to eat meals together

After fighting over who sat next to whom, the lineup consisted of Kiri, Y/n, and Lo'ak in a row - everyone satisfied with the seating arrangement as they conversed amongst themselves. Jake and Neytiri sat a few rows down from them - and Y/n's eyes caught the familiar muscled back of Neteyam Sully as he sat down next to his parents and grandmother.

She winced, heart burning with shame as she looked at his bandaged leg. The same leg she had accidentally hit when wielding a bow.

Jake had insisted she'd be fine hours earlier when she refused to hunt with the weapon, handing her the bow and arrow and giving her a simple target  to practice her aim with while the hunting party was taking a break.

She'd usually hunted with a simple knife, expertly too. She'd excelled at many things - but her skills with a bow was not one of them

She'd fired it, her arm shaking with fear as her hand slipped. The arrow didn't stay true to its path at all and flew completely out of her sight. Moments after firing, they heard a sharp yell - Jake only turned towards her in disbelief with his mouth hanging open. Never had she seen her clan leader in such denial.

Her embarrassment was incomparable as she and Jake ran in the direction of the yell, only to find Neteyam kneeling over in pain as he held the gash on his leg with his hands, blood running over his fingers as he applied pressure to the wound.

Thank the Great Mother the arrow merely grazed him. Y/n had been brought to near tears as she apologized profusely for her actions. Neteyam merely bowed his head, mumbling that he was fine and clearly embarrassed himself by the situation as Jake quickly patched up the boy with his on the go medical kit.

He got up the second he was patched, insisting he was fine and leaving as Y/n finally gathered the courage to approach him

"Neteyam, Neteyam wait!" She pleaded, her voice desperate as he visibly froze in his path, slowly turning around to meet her eyes

"I know we are not friends - but please understand, I had no intention of hurting you. I am so sorry." She said, her voice was strained as she spoke, eyes pained as she struggled to convey her true guilt.

He remained silent, looking at her so intensely that she felt her back straightening subconsciously. He parted his lips as if to say something, mouth moving as he struggled to find the words before clamping it shut and shaking his head

"It is fine, Y/n. I am fine, please do not worry about me." He finally said, his voice foreign and eyes hard before he turned away from her, his muscles tense as he walked away.

She wanted to cry in that moment, her eyes stinging with shame as she turned away, unable to understand the clear aversion the Sully boy had for her.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Neteyam ate his food silently, occasionally cracking a smile at his fathers ridiculous jokes.

He couldn't stop himself from looking back to Lo'ak and Kiri, but his eyes didn't stay on them. They moved to the girl between the two.

The familiar feeling of his heart thundering in his chest returned as he looked away once again, closing his eyes while he struggled to keep himself from marching over to the trio and pulling her away.

He hated Y/n. He hated her so much sometimes.

He hated how he was reminded of her everywhere he turned. He hated how she'd braid flowers into her hair and how her clothes were always so out of place from the familiar brown and greens the clan wore - her pink and purple accessories only pulling his eyes towards her even more.

He hated how he couldn't control his heart around her. Never had he felt so out of control. He hated how easily she'd be able to have him do anything if she just asked, her voice a melody he'd listen to from afar - something similar to a drug. Something he desired so much but refused to have - the fear of addiction holding him back.

He'd promised himself it was just a small crush when he'd first seen her vibrant smile. 

He told himself anyone would have fallen in love with the way she so selflessly loved. 

He had to force himself to look away from her when she was doing simple tasks - eating, weaving baskets - even just praying - he'd find her eyes closed and content as her face was composed with eternal peace he wished to find.

He'd told himself to stay away from her completely because she wasn't someone he could trust himself to be around. The feeling of simply not understanding what he felt was what scared him so much. But her beauty - one that had his knees so weak he had to look away just to stand without faltering, was what terrified him the most.

Her beauty wasn't something unknown - she was the most enchanting na'vi in the clan through his eyes. Her delicate cheeks and round eyes with fluttering lashes had him in awe at times. But, as he watched another boy approach her as she ate - her curious eyes meeting him as he quickly struck up a conversation with the trio had him blinking rapidly.

He was seemingly talking to all three, but Neteyam did not miss the way the mystery boy's eyes would trail back to Y/n to seemingly try and catch a glimpse of her.

He clenched his jaw, looking down at the food in front of him with furrowed brows. Suddenly, he wasn't so hungry anymore.

He couldn't even be mad. He had no say over who spoke to her - and this wasn't the first time.

He'd seen numerous boys approach her before, and every time, he'd be watching the interaction from afar. Fuming with a clenched jaw as he struggled to kill the jealousy that was running through him like a storm.

The only thing that prevented him from intervening was Y/n's gently but sad smile as she rejected Every. Single. One. Nothing was more satisfying than watching her shake her head - indicating a polite no from her that had each boy walking away with slumped shoulders.

As if Y/n had felt his burning gaze, she lifted her head to look directly at him.

Her eyes - they had him swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked right back at her, refusing to break eye contact. 

She blinked rapidly as she stared back, her gaze struggling to hold the intensity in his eyes as she finally looked away.

He left dinner right after it ended, returning to his hammock with a pounding headache as he struggled to sort his thoughts.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"Neteyam."

He slowly opened his eyes to find his mother standing over him, her eyes concerned as Neteyam quickly sat up with his brows pulled together in concern

"Is something wrong, Mother?" He asked quickly, his voice tired as she frowned

"Yes. You went to bed so early. Are you feeling ok?" She asked gently as Neteyam automatically nodded his head

"Mother - I am fine." He said, but his voice wasn't convincing enough to her. Just as she was about to say something, Jake walked towards them with hurried steps once he heard their voices

"You awake, boy?" He asked, moving to stand next to Neytiri as Neteyam nodded his head, his annoyance present in his sigh

"Why is everyone asking if I am ok?" He questioned as Jake and Neytiri looked at each other - their eyes obviously having some sort of an exchange he was not apart of

"You seem distracted lately." Was what Jake settled on as Neteyam remained silent

Quickly, Jake's eyes lit up as if he thought of something. He turned to Neytiri with a glint in his eyes that had her look at him expectedly

"Now, I need a favor from you. Think you can do it?" Jake asked, his voice firm as Neteyam nodded his head

"Of course. What do you need?" He answered dutifully, his mind still hazy from being awoken from his slumber

"I need you to teach Y/n how to wield a bow and fire an arrow."

Jake didn't miss the way Neteyam nearly flinched at his words, his eyes widening the slightest bit as well. But, he remained still and silent and gave them no further insight as to how he felt by the request 

Neytiri watched him carefully as Neteyam finally nodded his head, his knuckles pale from gripping the sides of his hammock so hard as his lips were set in a firm line.

"Yes sir."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Y/n shuffled her feet as she watched Neteyam secure the last few necessary things they needed for the next few hours they were spending in the forest together inside of his bag.

His hands moved so gracefully - Y/n couldn't help but watch him as he placed one last arrow on his back, turning to her and gesturing his head towards the exit of the tent and towards the forest.

"Come on Y/n." He said, turning his back towards her as he led her into the forest, a clear destination in his mind as she recognized a few trees with markings on them with the path he was leading her on - clearly targets previous na'vi had used to practice with their bows and arrows on.

She felt her cheeks heat up as she realized the fact that these targets were probably made for children to practice their skills on.

Hunting with a bow and arrow wasn't required - and Y/n knew from the start she wasn't very good with one, so she didn't bother ever picking up one. But now, it seemed she'd have to learn how to master it, one way or another.

She turned to Neteyam, her voice quieter than usual as she spoke her true thoughts

"Do you think I am capable of even learning how to use a bow this late? Especially after..." She asked, her embarrassment evident in her voice as he turned to her with the same intense gaze she was used to seeing in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

"Well, of course you are. Mistakes happen." He said, silence following after his words as he saw the hesitation in her eyes - maybe it was his words, or maybe it was the fact that they'd never been alone together - and that he'd never really even spoken this much to her.

Finally, he smiled. It was such a small movement on his face, but she'd seen how his eyes had softened as the smallest of smile lines appeared. It was a change.

"Come here."

She obliged without hesitation, standing next to him only seconds later as he handed her his bow and an arrow. She grabbed his bow with careful hands, her fingers running over the intricately beautiful engravings in the wood as she admired it.

He was watching her, his gaze unwavering as he saw the small twitch of her lips as they formed a smile. She didn't notice his gaze - too focused on the bow, and he took the opportunity to look at her up close.

He'd never allowed himself to be this close to her - after the last time there had been such little distance between them her intoxicating scent had been the thing to keep him up for hours. But now, he closed his eyes and could only inhale it - his tail flicking as his senses recognized the sweet smell

"Hold it like this." He instructed

He didn't even recognize his own voice - it came out much rougher than he intended it to, but he forced himself to focus on the way her hands held his bow - searching for any mistakes with the way she was positioned that might be why she was having trouble firing an arrow.

His fingers mistakingly brushed over hers - and he felt himself letting out a breath to steady himself and calm his heart - it seemed like Y/n had also been thrown off by the small touch between them as she quickly blinked while staring at their hands.

Neteyam finally realized her mistake as he noticed the way her fingers went straight over the wood she was holding when they should have curved over the slanted piece.

He didn't trust himself to say anything without his voice giving away exactly how he felt, so he wordlessly moved her fingers - cupping his hand over hers and moving it into position and nodding his head

She met his eyes once he gave her the cue to fire her arrow, and she unleashed it - the strong string snapping it forward with impeccable speed as it hit the target right in its center

She looked at the target in disbelief as she let out a victory war cry one would use in battle - startling Neteyam instantly as she clapped her hands in pure excitement

"I got it! Neteyam I got it!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining with so much appreciation that she leaped towards the boy and tackled him with a hug

He only yelped as he fell backward and onto the grass, her body on top of his as she hugged him tightly - laughter spilling out of her as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her - before tightening them and reciprocating her ecstatic embrace

They stayed like this for a few moments - both of them holding each other so close that every single previous cold and awkward encounter of the two of them before faded away - the two so lost in the moment as they laughed

Finally, she pulled away - her eyes still crinkled with joy as Neteyam felt himself quieting once again as he stared at her. But this time, it was not with the usual emotionless stare - but with a gaze so open and with no facade, she too quieted as she felt the atmosphere change.

Finally he looked away, unable to look at Y/n any longer as he began speaking

"I am sorry for how I have treated you in the past. I... it was shameful." He finally spoke, words Y/n had been wanting to hear for so long - she didn't even believe he'd said them

She knew he had one of the biggest hearts ever - the snippets she'd catch of him with his siblings had confirmed that. She knew there was a reason he typically avoided her - and she had a very good feeling she was about to find out what it was.

"It is ok." She said, the sweetest smile on her face as Neteyam felt his heart crack at the sight

All the times he'd been so awful, so cold and distant - she'd forgiven. Because she had a heart of gold - something Neteyam felt he didn't deserve. Something he thought he wasn't worthy of.

"Y/n..." He struggled to finish the sentence as he stared at her lips, parted and simply begging for him - the urge to press his lips against hers was overwhelming

"Y/n, I do not deserve someone like you. I could not look you in the eyes - or speak to you all this time because of how I felt. I feel so much for you - it is like my heart is set on fire when I look at you sevin -"

The word had slipped from his lips - but she'd heard it.

Sevin. Pretty

She felt her heart flutter as she heard his words. He thought she was pretty.

He smiled at her reaction before shaking his head and reaching for her hands hesitantly. She reached forward slowly, lacing their fingers together with sparkling eyes as he cracked a grin

He knew she felt something for him too - because of the numerous boys that had pursued her, she never held their hands the way she was holding his - nor did she stare at them with eyes so round and filled with such a tender kindness as she did with him.

She leaned forward, gently brushing her lips against his to see his reaction. But he merely pulled her back in - his mouth enveloping hers as he moved his arms around her.

He kissed away all her confusion that night, spending the hours meant for her training with her hands in his hair and his face pressed against hers.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

six full moons later ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

The tense Neteyam who'd always been frowning was replaced by one who couldn't stop smiling. He was the one who'd be more eager for Y/n to come over then his own siblings, the one who made Lo'ak gag dramatically whenever he and Y/n did anything even remotely romantic - the one who looked forward to seeing her the most.

In the beginning he wouldn't even stand next to her - and now, he refused to be separated from her.

They'd sneak out at night to gaze at the stars - a favorite pastime of theirs now as Y/n would lay her head on his chest and tell Neteyam anything and everything that came to her mind. Neteyam would do the same - saying things that would have Y/n giggling as she nuzzled her nose against his skin

"Tomorrow, you and I will have a date night." Neteyam said proudly, Y/n tilting her head up and towards with a smile 

"What is a date night?" She asked, her hands mindlessly playing with his fingers as Neteyam grinned

"My parents have date nights all the time - they go out to have their own private time, away from everyone else. You and I could pick all sorts of fruits to snack on - climb all sorts of trees with no one to tell us what to do." He said, voice gentle with his lips set into a soft smile

She smiled, gently moving her hand to his face as she traced over his freckles that glowed in the moonlight. He looked radiant in the day - but at night, he was bewitching. There was a certain thing about him and the night that comforted her more than anything else in the world

"Well then, we should have date night every night." She insisted as he laughed, the sound a melody to her ears as she merely smiled against him - the stars shining above the two for every date night they would spend together.

i just want to tag @erenjaegerwifee for the request/idea! thank u boo for the inspo i hope you like it 🥺 took me a couple THOUSAND words to reach the part where he teaches her & they confess but i got there! 😅🤍

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 3

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 7.3k this part

description: you finally soothe the uncertainty you've had surrounding going out and making a life of your own. somewhere inside, you find the bravery to finally tell zoro how you'd feel about him.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, kissing, confessions, a lil suggestive at the end

author’s note: ANDDDD SHE'S DONE!!! this was a wild 8 day long ride of writing, i'm a bit uncertain about the ending so please tell me what you thought of it!! hopefully you liked the fic, thank u so so much for reading.

The two of you emerged from the room a little while later. You’d finished cleaning up, and Zoro had kept you company as you cleaned both his swords and Hiru. The both of you walked together afterwards, wandering into the kitchen where Sanji had whipped up a meal. 

“We’re close to the Grand Line,” Nami reported, having apparently steered the ship far enough away from the other pirates to leave the helm alone. “Should reach the mountain by early morning.” She glanced over at you. “Kuraigana Island first, right?” 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “The Grand Line is… screwed, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luffy said brightly. You just shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Zoro! Did you get everything cleaned up?” Zoro had changed into a fresh shirt, one not so bloodstained, and he gave a curt nod. “Good. Come and eat so we can get ready for tomorrow?” 

Sanji passed you a bowl, and you let out a thin breath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how and when this had become your norm—it’d been a week with the Straw Hats, now, and— 

You dropped your chopsticks in your hand. It’d been a week. “Fuck,” you said, the word dropping out from between your lips before you could stop them. Your entire body had gone rigid, pink flushing up your arms and face as something burned deep inside of you. 

Everyone’s heads had snapped up to look at you, matching concerned expressions on all of their faces. “I, um—” you said, scrambling up from your seat, words too big in your mouth. You opted not to finish them, dropping your sentence as you yanked your shell phone out of your jacket pocket. “Sorry, I—” 

You shook your head, hurrying out of the kitchen. The cold gust of the ocean breeze hit heavy on your face, and you let out a breath, the gust of air exhaling out of your chest in a rush. You heard footsteps behind you, but the panic hadn’t bled out of your veins entirely, and your hands shook as you tried to open your phone. 

Zoro’s hand was pressed over yours before you could snap the case open. You stared down at it, and your gaze lifted, the tremble of your hands subsiding as his warm grasp sunk deep into your skin. “What’s up?” he asked, low and steady. 

“I, um—” you swallowed hard, hitching breath soothing at his touch. “Um. It’s—I have to call my dad.” 

Zoro was serene, tone even and still. His words from before echoed around in your head, the proclamation of not having patience. It’d been untrue after all. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m supposed to have dinner with him,” you blurted. “Tonight. I’ve never missed it before. Because I’ve always been on the island, in our—I’ve never missed it before. I’ve been with you all for too long.” 

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Zoro said, though his hand didn’t fall from yours. He paused, lips parted as his eyes ran along your face. “Or is it something you’re upset about?” 

“I don’t have friends,” you whispered, words fierce. “I don’t go places. I stay at home. This life isn’t mine. It’s—” 

“I don’t think you should dictate what you do based on what your father does,” Zoro interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, exactly—but it was strong, tone firm, jaw set as he spoke. “So you miss one dinner. So you’re out and about for longer than a week. Does it matter?” 

Does it matter? Your heart pounded in your chest, and you took in a steady breath, trying to soothe the adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins even now. “I don’t… I’m not used to this,” you admitted, somehow managing to keep the contact of your eyes even as your brain screamed at you to look away. “I’m not used to being away from home.” 

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Zoro said. 

You hesitated. His hand moved carefully away from yours, nudging your fingers to open the phone. Your gaze dropped, staring at the little snail waiting for you inside, nestled in his little bed of velvet. You picked it up, tucking it into your ear as your shaking hands dialed Mihawk’s number. 

He answered on the first ring. “Hello there, darling,” he said, and you closed your eyes, a soft exhale leaving your lungs at his voice. “Are you calling me about dinner? I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise. Just finishing up over here.” 

“No, actually, um—” you cut yourself off, teeth coming down to halt your tongue. You opened your eyes, turning to glance tentatively over at Zoro. Does it matter? he had asked. Which… it did, right? You weren’t a part of the Straw Hats. You hadn’t joined their crew; you’d been insistent on that, pushing away any idea of a life out at sea in exchange for the comfort and familiarity of your home lifestyle. But you’d been making bonds with them despite, and helping them out with their ship, and fighting alongside them in battle. And you’d just patched up Zoro’s wounds a mere hour earlier. You didn’t make friends.

But you were making them. 

“I’m not going to dinner this week,” you said, the words all slurred as they spilled from your mouth. There was a pause of surprise on Mihawk’s line before he spoke again. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Zoro’s gaze on you. 

“Finally departed from the nest, have you, darling?” Mihawk said. His voice was soft—tender, almost. “Very well, then. Any idea when you’ll be on the island next, or shall we keep it a suspended date?” 

“I should be home in a few days,” you said, voice hitching in your breath. “I’ll—I’ll call you! I don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, but I’ll—I’m not going to just disappear.” 

“Well, of course,” Mihawk said simply. You tightened the squeeze of your eyes, trying to suppress the tingling prickles at your waterline. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dear.” 

You made a face, letting out a breathy scoff. A defense mechanism, really. “Don’t get mushy on me, old man.” 

“Me? Mushy?” There was a staticky scoff crackling over from Mihawk’s side of the line. It was such a simple conversation, so—why was it driving you to tears? “I could never, darling, do you even know me? I’ve got to fly, anyway—there’s some pesky pirates around here I’ve got to deal with.” 

“Bye, dad,” you said, the words choking up your throat, all raggedy at the edges, too big as you shoved them up and through your mouth. They grazed your tongue, but the points weren’t edges; they didn’t draw blood. “I—um.” 

The Dracules did not say I love you. Your father was doting, certainly, but he expressed his affection in far more unspoken ways. Presents from all four Blues. A weapon of the highest caliber quality when you were thirteen. Personal lessons in sword fighting. The murder of anyone who dared send an off look in your direction. 

“Me too, little hawk,” Mihawk said simply. “Now go have fun.” 

The den den mushi let out a soft little croak, signaling that Mihawk had hung up. You let your hand fall, the fingers holding the case of your phone going slack. Air punctured your lungs as you inhaled, the salty, crisp breeze loosening your muscles with every breath. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro asked. The words were gruff, awkward. Like he wasn’t used to saying them. You tightened your grip on your case, and then tugged the snail out of your ear, setting it carefully back where it belonged. You met Zoro’s gaze, heart thudding a bit faster as you saw flickers of concern in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I am.” 

The sun shone bright on your face, the weather of the Grand Line being more forgiving today as the ship sailed carefully through the ocean. Your route was still towards Kuraigana Island, although you were growing more split about it by the second. You’d just had a conversation with Mihawk a day or so ago about you not being at the house—and the fact that you’d have to choose whether to go home and potentially never see the Straw Hats again was a decision that gripped heavy at your heart. 

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” You glanced up to see Zoro at your side, forearms propping at the Going Merry’s railing as he gazed out at the ocean. You shrugged, eyes flickering down his side profile before falling back to your hands. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just thinking about what to do, I guess.” 

Zoro fixed you with a look. “You should try not doing that.” 

A startled laugh escaped your throat. “What? Thinking?” 

“It gets old,” Zoro said with a firm nod, brow slightly creased to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’d recommend dropping it for at least a few hours. You’re getting wrinkles.” One of his hands moved upwards to nudge against your forehead, and you ducked, another laugh gracing the edges of your lips. 

“Right,” you said, dubious. “How are your wounds?” 

“I’ve taken worse,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Though I guess I’ve still got that one, huh.” He grimaced, lips tugging back to bare his teeth into a scowl. It took him a while to speak again, and you turned your gaze back towards the ocean, waiting for the unspoken words to leave his lips. Minutes ticked by, but you just basked in the sun, trying to air your mind of any thoughts. Maybe Zoro had a point, there—sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to think at all. 

When Zoro finally spoke, his words were quiet; muttered under his breath. You had to strain to hear them, as the thin ocean breeze swallowed them up almost immediately. “I really thought I could beat him.” 

You huffed out a breath, unsure of what to say. Unsure if Zoro even wanted you to say anything. Your grip on the boat’s railing tightening, palm running across the soft wood. You found words falling out of your mouth anyway, though, although you yourself were surprised by them—“You can.” 

Zoro glanced up at you, surprised. “Maybe not now,” you hastened to say, not wanting to add to his clearly already-inflated ego. “But you’re good. You’re good enough to beat him, eventually. In a few years, given the proper time and training. I think…” You swallowed down the phlegm in your throat, alarmed by how wet your voice was starting to sound. You took in a breath, steadying your tone, making certain your voice wasn’t quite so thin or reedy. “I think that’s what scares me about you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, all low and hushed. You just shrugged. 

“I don’t mind,” you answered. You felt his eyes on you, burning like a sun on fire, like the stars dotting his skin were crisping over your skin, charred and burnt and broken. Or maybe it wasn’t quite so destructive. Maybe it was a tender fire, crowning a pile of wood and cared for with iron stakes, embers glowing deep in the night to keep warmth fueling a pot of soup, or healing ragged hands after a long battle. 

“Let me get you a drink.”

Zoro disappeared. He returned with a flask, handing it over to you after unscrewing its cap. You knocked it back—it was rich but bland, all dry and earthy. Sake. You’d pegged him more as a beer guy. “Thanks.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t move from your figure. It was warm, you decided then. The swordsman was vicious at times, relentless in his fight, sinewy figure slashing cuts into flesh as he sparred with his enemies. But there was a distinction behind the hot, heavy iron of those glares at the look at which he placed upon you now. You couldn’t go as far to say his eyes were tender, or soft. But they were warm. Fire was a calamitous thing, but it had its blessings. 

“Let me take you out,” Zoro said suddenly. Your entire body froze, murmurs of warmth and tingling buzzes pricking up and down your spine. Something inside you lurched—no, it didn’t lurch, didn’t have the unpleasant sensation associated with it. It was softer, burning, guttural. Like a sharp knife cutting straight through your abdomen, sliding into your stomach, prying apart the bones like they were putty. Your chest squeezed inwards, heart pulsating with soft pangs of something. Hunger; desire, maybe. Yearning. 

“Why?” you asked. Zoro just shrugged, effortlessly casual in his movements. You saw a hitch in his throat, a flicker of something in his eyes, a strain in his jaw. Not so effortless after all. “Actually, more importantly—where?” 

“I’ll figure something out,” Zoro answered. “Is that a yes?” 

You turned, glancing up at him tentatively. “I’m not used to this sort of thing,” you said carefully. Zoro just shrugged. He still looked effortless, all guarded, but you could see the tremors and quivers underneath. 

“Neither am I.” 

You pursed your lips, raising your face to let the sun glow down onto your skin. “I have a rule, though,” you said, voice lifting up, more of a tease now. There was a ghost of a smile at the edge of your words, although your mouth wasn’t shaped in one. It was hesitant, careful not to scare you, really; creeping on you inch by inch. “I can’t go out with men who haven’t beaten me in combat.” 

Zoro snorted. “I have beaten you,” he said. “But if you want a rematch—” 

“Let’s not strain your injuries too much.” Zoro let out a scoff, but it was light-hearted, laced with amusement. You just shook your head, the dawning smile at the edges of your lips now, tugging them softly upwards. “I accept a loss when I get served one. You beat me, fair and square.”

“So I get to take you out now,” Zoro murmured, words careful, hovering in the air just barely out of his lips. He turned towards you, the sun outlining his face with a soft glow of gold and orange. He didn’t smile, but there was that soft, burning look again, lips slightly parted, taking in air. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.” 

“Tonight, then,” Zoro said. “Ten. Aftercastle.” 

You spent some time contemplating what to wear. You hadn’t brought a very expansive wardrobe along with you, only the essentials, so there wasn’t much to choose from—just some shirts and pants, no dresses or skirts in the bare bones of your luggage. You eventually picked out your favorite of the grouping, sliding your signature jacket on like usual, Hiru fastened securely in its scabbard at the back. 

Zoro was waiting at the afterdeck when you arrived, dressed in a dark wrap shirt and his usual green obi. The cloth was nicer, though: his pants were missing their usual wear and tear, and his shirt looked to be made of finer cotton. “Hi,” you said, slipping up next to him. The tangerine tree’s leaves brushed at your ear, and you glanced up at it. The fruit was ripe, round and as bright orange as Nami’s hair. 

“Hey,” Zoro replied. One of his forearms was propped against the afterdeck railing, and the other wrapped around the side. You put your hand beside his, pinky just inches away from his. “Do you know any constellations?” 

“Some,” you said, squinting up at the sky. You could point a few of them out, but not many—the sky was cloudy tonight, most of the stars blocked out by dull puffs of gray and blue. “You?” 

“No,” Zoro answered. “Was never really interested in that kind of thing.” He glanced over at you. You’d turned your attention on the trees, again, plucking one of the tangerines off the branches. The tree trembled, its leaves quivering with soft swaying motions. You dug your nails into the flesh, peeling it carefully. “Why’d you just stay home?” 

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “My dad used to not let me leave. He stayed with me until I was maybe twelve, for the most part. Then he started going out more, but he didn’t want me to come. Something about it being dangerous. He dropped the ban when I was sixteen, but…” you hesitated, tucking the shredded pieces of tangerine peels in your pocket. “I just kind of stuck with it, I guess.” 

“Weren’t you lonely?” 

“Kind of.” You broke the orange in half, moving on to pick at the pith with your fingernails. You gathered that up, too, little white lines piling up in the crease of your palm. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“He always wanted me to leave, I think,” you said. “To find my own life. I was always happy staying there with him, though. Or waiting for him.” 

“You wouldn’t be abandoning him by leaving,” Zoro said. 

“Logically, I know that.” You peeled a piece of orange off from a half, offering it to Zoro. He took it, carefully pushing it between his teeth. He broke skin, a burst of piquant citrus juice dripping on his lower lip. Your eyes lingered there a moment too long, but you looked away a second later, speaking again. “I think it’s just a habit, really. I worry.” 

“I mean, he’s a Warlord of the Sea. I think he can take care of himself.” 

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” you said with a sigh. You popped a slice of orange in your mouth, sucking at the tart juice. “I don’t want him to get lonely.” 

“That’s not really your responsibility,” Zoro answered. His pinky crept closer to your hand, from where you’d returned your grip on the railing. His touch was feather-light, a soft breath of skin against skin that was there and gone again within a moment. “Did you think any more about it?” 

“I didn’t,” you said. “Took a page out of your book.” 

“It’ll come to you eventually,” Zoro said. “Like that one Shanks guy said—actually, I don’t remember the quote. Ask Luffy about it in the morning. He’ll probably go on for a few hours.” 

You snorted. “You’re kind of bad at giving advice, Zoro.” The name came easily, and you stopped, feeling the syllables on your teeth. It was comforting. Natural. 

Zoro seemed a tad bit offended by that. “At least I’m trying,” he muttered, voice defensive but not hostile. “Onto lighter topics?” 

You popped another tangerine slice in your mouth. “Like what?” 

“Nothing light about my life, so I’ve got no idea.” You snorted, choking on the orange that’d made its way halfway down the passage of your throat. You coughed, shaky laughs escaping your lips as you cleared your airways. An amused smile had perched on Zoro’s face, eyes glimmering with warmth as he watched you.

“That was unnecessarily edgy,” you protested. You finished with your tangerine, letting the pith flutter out of your palm, some of the white floss sticking. You didn’t mind it. 

“Got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” Zoro nudged you, the skin of his finger pressing fully against your pinky. This time, he didn’t move away, letting the warmth of his skin bleed into yours. 

“You never answered my question.” You raised your pinky, lifting it to brush against Zoro’s knuckle. Carefully, you slipped it into the gap of his interdigit, looping your fingers together so they were intertwined. Zoro exhaled shakily—you glimpsed his other arm moving away from the railing, lowering to his side. “Why you wanted me out here, I mean.” 

Zoro pulled up a flask, unscrewing the cap with one hand. He didn’t drink, though, just held the bottle suspended in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the soft rush of water from below and the tranquil rocking of the boat fill the silence. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. To your surprise, though, he raised the flask to his lips, taking a short sip before letting his hand fall again. “You feel different.” 

“Care to be a little less vague?” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Zoro said carefully. His guard was up, that much was sure. You didn’t exactly blame him. “Things have changed since I joined Luffy. Sometimes I can’t describe it.” 

“The crew,” you said. “It makes sense.” 

“It does,” Zoro agreed. There was something magnetic about it, about him—something that drew you in. But you weren’t afraid of it, really. The Straw Hats weren’t scary. Their bared teeth weren’t fangs; their canines remained unsharpened at their maw. Their lure was more peaceful than that. “We like you. You fit in.” He paused, mouth slightly ajar, a tremor of something on his lower lip. “I like you.” 

Your lungs were empty, devoid of air. Something in your chest clawed at you, trying to climb up your throat, compressing your organs. Zoro’s touch burned into you, interlocked fingers searching an imprint in your skin. You were certain you’d feel it for hours; days; months; years after. “I think I like you too,” you said. 

“Well, you like my earrings,” Zoro said easily. “That’s a start.” 

You turned towards him, at his open stance, tucking yourself in the space between his figure at the side of the ship. The motion forced Zoro to raise your hands away from the railing, but he slid with the action easily, fingers fully interlacing with yours. His other arm remained propped along the ship, flask in his fingers, the skin of his forearm brushing against your side. Your free hand raised up to skim along his earrings, dull clinks of the metal sounding out at the emotion. “I do like your earrings.” 

“Enough to let me kiss you?” 

You tugged gently at Zoro’s earlobe, angling your face up to meet his. “Yeah.” 

Zoro kissed you square on the mouth, mouth full and open, hand slipping around your back. The edge of his sake flask dug into your spine, but it wasn’t a sharp pain, and you didn’t mind it. Your fingers tightened against Zoro’s, chasing his lips with yours, letting him swallow you whole. He was patient with it, smooth and languid; tongue licking into the crevices of your mouth, firm as he mouthed kisses at the lines of your lips. 

You breathed in from his lungs, chest getting tight as he sucked the air clean out of you. Still, you were addicted, utterly devoted as his fingers nudged against your hand and his tongue skimmed along your mouth. He was a good kisser, effortless and smooth, nearly elegant with his motions. He tasted like sake; earthy, woodsy, reminiscent of some sort of mushroom, maybe. It suited him well. 

You let out a little whimper as Zoro’s tongue pressed deep to your throat, and he swallowed it up, flicking lazily along the roof of your mouth. You were getting short of breath, though, so you placed a gentle litany of faint kisses along his mouth before tilting your head back and letting the night air puncture your lungs. Zoro’s pupils had gone wide, deep black swallowing the walnut of his irises. His hand pulsed against yours, steady as ever, but he didn’t speak.

“I like more than your jewelry,” you said, staring down at where your fingers tangled with his. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle, extremities manipulated to slot along each other, palms molded together. “I like the way you move, and the way you fight. I like your face.” You hesitated, playing with Zoro’s fingertips to distract you from your words. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro said. 

“No, I think I do.” A ghost of a smile flickered up your mouth; a corpse, really, one that had forgotten it wasn’t really dead after all. “I like you, Roronoa Zoro.” 

Zoro’s fingers squeezed tighter against yours. There was no click, no noise of finality, no settlement of a suspended thread. You supposed it didn’t work like that. Life didn’t stop and end. You went on. You’d see Zoro in the morning, again, after you’d gone to sleep, and things would continue like normal. “Okay,” he said. “Late enough for you to go to bed, yet?” 

“I could go either way,” you answered. “Staying out here wouldn’t be so bad either.” 

“Fine by me,” Zoro said, not moving from where he stood. “So, Lady Dracule. Where to next?” 

“Wherever the breeze takes me,” you answered, but there was a decision settling down in your chest. One you weren’t so afraid to look at anymore. 

Kuraigana Island was just as you’d left it, sky dark as night even in the middle of the day, rotted ground crunching dust and rocks underneath your feet. The Going Merry had docked in one of the number of homemade boat berths Mihawk had made sometime in your youth. 

Usopp let out a low whistle as the Straw Hats stepped onto the island, head practically turning around in a 180 degree spin as he craned his neck to look around. “You live here?” 

“It’s quaint,” you said defensively. 

Nami gave you a sympathetic look. “It really isn’t.”

“Why is the sky black?” Luffy murmured in amazement, casting his gaze upwards to the overhang of rumbling clouds that existed perpetually over the island. “Have you never seen sun in your life?” 

You rolled your eyes, leading them through the gravelly path up to your house. Their reactions were, well, nothing short of the expected—Sanji’s eyebrows lifted, and Zoro let out a low whistle as he took in the sight. 

“It’s like Kaya’s house,” Usopp breathed. “But… bigger. And more spiky!” 

“It needs a paint job,” Nami deadpanned. You snorted. 

“I’ve been trying to get him to renovate for forever. Good luck.” You cleared your throat, suddenly awkward as the group walked closer and closer to the house. Your footsteps slowed, until you came to a full stop a few meters off the front door. The Straw Hats grouped around you, curious. “Just… don’t be weird, please. Nami, don’t steal anything unless it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. I only bother to polish the important stuff.” 

“Is that an open invitation to rob your house?” Nami asked with a snort.

“Do you have any food?” Luffy asked. 

“Probably not. My dad can’t cook for shit. Sanji can make something,” you said. “Our kitchen’s kinda nice.” 

“Working in a Warlord’s kitchen? I’d be honored,” Sanji said, with a little flourish of his hand. You rolled your eyes, but Luffy at least seemed satisfied. You glanced over at Zoro, who was the only one of the group who hadn’t said anything up to now—his lips were set into a thin line, but he met your gaze, and they flickered upwards just a quarter of an inch. The action was reassuring, almost, and you were soothed enough to start walking again.

The door flung open before you reached it, although the sudden motion didn’t startle you like it did to your compatriots. Dracule Mihawk stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual hat and jacket, Yoru heavy off his shoulders like usual. “I thought I heard footsteps,” your father trilled, voice wonderfully monotone as he bent in front of you, taking your hand to press a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. “Have you brought your friends along, darling?” 

“Clearly,” you said with a soft laugh. It was like all the tension evaporated from your body as soon as your father got near, and you found his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before turning to your friends. “Do you need introductions, or do you know them all already?” 

“I only remember the future pirate king and the swordsman,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Oh, and Yasopp’s child. It’s no matter, really. Well, come on in, you’re letting in the cold air.” 

Usopp stuttered something incomprehensible about his father, but Mihawk had already disappeared. You glanced over your shoulder at the rest of the Straw Hats. “He’s like that,” you said apologetically. “Just… come in.”

They followed you into the house, glancing around the lobby to take in the decor. You had to admit, a lot of it was rather gaudy, but it wasn’t like Mihawk cared much about what adorned the walls, and you had little resources to work with. Sanji made quick work moving to the kitchen after you made sure that Mihawk hadn’t prepared dinner. 

“So,” Nami said, the words mulling around in her mouth as she lounged by the kitchen island. “Nice place.” 

“It’s kinda scary-looking,” Luffy said honestly. “Interesting choice of decoration. I guess if you like it, though.” 

“Are you okay on your own for a moment?” you asked, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to go talk to my dad.” Luffy nodded, and the others all hummed their assent. Zoro caught your gaze—soft, curious. You just gave him a reassuring smile and slipped out of the room. 

Mihawk was waiting in the living room, long body stretched supine along the couch, booted feet thrown up on the arm. You narrowed your gaze at it. “Don’t put your feet on the furniture,” you grumbled. 

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, though he made no move to alter his position. “Did you end up getting that jacket for me?” 

“I did,” you said, glancing through the satchel that hung at your hip. You pulled it out, folding it with a solid shake and holding it up for Mihawk to see. His golden eyes flickered up and down the garment, taking in the material. Black cotton twill, with red paisley silk as the lining, delicate red lace at the hem and sleeves. The lapels were wide, buttons shiny and black, and it used red stitching rather than black, giving a sort of exoskeleton look to it. Mihawk sat up, pushing his hat back. 

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.” 

You folded the jacket in half, slinging it across the back of the sofa before moving around to face Mihawk fully. “About the crew.” 

Mihawk glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yes?” 

“I…” you took in a breath, the inhale shaky in your lungs, bones and muscles rattling in your chest. “I think I’m going to stay with them for a little while, if you’re okay with it.” 

“The Straw Hat crew,” Mihawk said carefully, shaping the words on his mouth, tasting them on his tongue. “My daughter, part of the Straw Hat crew. Well, it’s not the most terrible-sounding thing to say, I suppose.” He paused. “No idea why you’d think I wouldn’t be okay with it, though, sweetheart. I’m not horrendous.” 

“Well, I figured—” you started, voice trailing out into a protesting whine. “You’d be against them? Garp sent you after them. One of them tried to kill you.” 

“Oh, you know I don’t hold grudges over such trifling matters,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Roronoa Zoro, right? He was watching you the entire time you entered. Wouldn’t take his eyes off you, darling.” There was a particular glint in his eyes, hunted, like he was searching for a quarry. “Something to tell me?” 

“No,” you said, too fast. Mihawk lifted both brows, and you broke almost easily. “Maybe. No. He’s—no.”

Mihawk clucked his tongue, sounding amused. “I suppose your rebel streak was bound to come out eventually. And from what you told me, he did beat you, so I can’t exactly complain.” You flushed, warmth heating up your skin, bringing a rosy blush to your cheeks. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I can fight him again, will you, little hawk? I’ve got my eye on that one.” 

“Okay, dad,” you muttered, but the tension of your shoulders had gone slack, and your muscles were loose. 

“Will you be leaving after dinner, or will you stay until the morning?” Mihawk asked, standing up to his full height. He stretched, sinewy limbs long and supple. He looked nearly odd without Yoru perched along his back. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Morning,” you answered. “I’ve missed you too, dad.” 

Mihawk smiled at you. “Go make sure our guests aren’t burning down the kitchen.” 

Dinner was less of an awkward affair than you’d expected. Usopp spoke the most through it, and Mihawk was fine to goad him on, occasionally switching topics to inquire about the rest of the crew. 

Sanji had made a fine meal; a grilled steak and onions with a side of asparagus to some kind of white sauce pasta you didn’t recognize. It felt… nice, really, having them all around you. Mihawk certainly knew how to socialize, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind his acerbic tendency. 

“And after I defeated all the enemy pirates,” Usopp was rambling on, “We hit a cannon straight into their mast, and it came crashing down! Oh, you should’ve seen it, man. It was me—well, Luffy—I guess he was the one that chucked the guy into the ship, or whatever. It wasn’t actually a cannon, but the details aren’t that important—”

“What about my little hawk?” Mihawk interrupted, and you had the vague sense to start whining. “I don’t suppose she just sat there throughout the whole fight.” 

“Oh, nah, she got some guys too I guess,” Usopp said, lazily waving an arm in the air. “She’s the one who stationed me at the cannon, she knew how great I was at it. She almost died to this one big dude—”

“I did not almost die!” you snapped. Usopp cackled out a hearty laugh. 

“No, she totally did. Thankfully for her, the great Captain Usopp came to her rescue—”

“Me,” Zoro muttered, words barely audible as he spoke them into his cup. You cracked a smile, and he glanced up, catching your eye. A tender look crossed his face. 

“Okay, yeah, it was Zoro who saved her,” Usopp admitted. “Cut the guy’s head straight off his body. But that’s just because I was busy fighting off the other pirates!” He motioned with his hands, mock-punching the air in front of him. 

Mihawk just raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now? I hope you thanked him properly for that, sweetheart.” 

You shot Mihawk a warning look. “Dad.” 

Mihawk didn’t let that faze him, raising his glass of wine to his lips. “You might want to take him around the island. There are some fairly romantic spots here, ones I brought your mother to while she was pregnant,” he said, mouth around the rim of his glass. You flushed, resisting the urge to lunge over the table at your father—clearly, he could see your vexation, mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, eyes tilted downwards like there was something particularly interesting in his cup. Nami and Sanji were murmuring things to each other, and Sanji raised his voice to speak. 

“I knew there was something between the two of you! Come on, Lady Dracule, you could do so much better than the mosshead here—”  

“Shut it—” Zoro started. 

“You most certainly did not know, and you owe me fifteen hundred berry for that!” Nami said, offended. She elbowed Sanji firmly in the ribs, and he let out a low cough. Her head spun towards the head of the table, where Luffy was sitting across from your father. “Luffy, tell your cook to honor his bets.” 

“You bet on us?” you demanded, a squeak of embarrassment entering your voice as you protested. Nami gave you a look. 

“Please. You were obvious.” 

“Well,” Sanji jumped in, “Personally I thought you had better taste than—”

“I said shut it, waiter,” Zoro said, finally looking up to fix Sanji with a glare. He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, and you stifled a laugh. “And if I were you, I’d give Nami her money as soon as possible.” 

“This is so unfair,” Sanji muttered, but he fished a wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills onto the table. “There you are, madam. I hope you’re happy.” 

You groaned. “At the dinner table, really?” 

“Money waits for no one,” Nami said with a little wink, tucking her winnings carefully into a pocket of her skirt. 

“Sanji, did you make dessert?” Luffy wondered. Sanji rolled his eyes, but the sigh he let out was kind and good-natured. 

“Well, lucky for you, I did have the mind to bake some cookies while here.” He got up from his seat. You just gave him a dubious look; everyone had more or less finished with their food, though, so you got up, collecting the dishes to wash. 

You did chores, Nami hanging around you and lending her aid while the other Straw Hats got comfortable in guest rooms or whatever else. Zoro hadn’t budged from the dining room, apparently not interested in exploring the different parts of your house—you could just barely see him out of the kitchen doorway, nursing his drink as he stared thoughtfully into the distance. 

The familiar shape of your father’s jacket joined his side, and you narrowed your eyes, straining to hear. Mihawk had bent over the table, a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke. He didn’t bother to speak quietly, so everyone in the near vicinity heard his words— “If you hurt her, I won’t show the mercy I did the first time. My little hawk’s more important than finding a worthy opponent.”

“Dad!” you snapped, dropping the plate you were in the middle of washing. Mihawk didn’t even look in your direction, even as you stormed out of the kitchen to stand protestingly by the mouth. “Don’t—” 

“Oh, hush, dear,” Mihawk said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m off to bed, then. I’ve got business in the morning.” He came over to you to brush another kiss along your knuckles. “I’ll be gone before you wake up. Safe travels.” 

“Good night,” you said with a sigh. Mihawk left, then, disappearing around the bend of the corner to head off to his room. 

“...I still don’t really forgive him for almost killing Zoro,” Nami said warily. Zoro got up from his seat, moving over to where the two of you had gathered in the kitchen. “But your dad’s fine, I guess. Not terrible, as far as fathers go.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, then glanced apologetically towards Zoro. “I’m sorry about him.” 

“It’s fine,” Zoro said with a careless shrug. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your room.” You nodded, drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and prompting Zoro to follow you up the steps. The house was large, a castle, really; all dark and winding, with long corridors and tall ceilings. Your bedroom was grand, on the second floor, with a sweeping balcony and wide windows that bore a full view of the island’s perpetual darkness. 

“What’d you say?” Zoro asked, stepping into the room. He glanced around, but didn’t remark in his surroundings, turning instead to look over at you. 

“I told him I’d be joining the Straw Hat pirates,” you said. Zoro smiled at that, the edges of his lips curling up. 

“Good,” he said simply. You moved towards him, forcing him to back up until he reached the plush of your bed. He sat down, eyes not flickering away from yours, soft brown that held an entire universe in them. Planets lined his cheeks, spatters of galaxies that you thought you might revolve inside. “Living here for years alone doesn’t seem like the most interesting life.” 

“It was fine while it lasted,” you said, bending your head down, lips hovering over his. Zoro’s hand came up to press firmly along your waist. “I think I like the ship a bit better, though.” 

“Hm,” Zoro murmured, eyes on your mouth. He tugged you down, but the kiss he pressed against your lips was chaste, and he was leaning back again before you knew it. “I decided, by the way. On whether I wanted your dad to like me or not.” 

You arched a brow, thinking back to that night so long ago when you’d first heard the words on Zoro’s lips. I’m not sure if I want him to like me. “Well?” 

“I do,” Zoro said, nudging against your chest, chin bumping along your shoulder. “It makes sense, with you.” 

A comfortable silence filled the space. His thumb ran a tender circle along the skin of your torso. “I should probably pack,” you murmured. 

“Eh, you’ll have time for that later,” Zoro said dismissively. You laughed, the sound full, straight out your throat. 

“Do I, now?” Zoro’s lip quirked, eyes grazing over your figure. You prattled on as if you didn't even notice. “Did you have something else in mind? You realize after this we have all the time in the world to be together—”

“I told you I was impatient,” Zoro interrupted, and then he was tugging you down, pressing a full kiss to your mouth again. You parted your lips to argue, but Zoro just took that as an opportunity to side his tongue in, and, well—this wasn’t so bad, either. One of your hands came to tangle in his hair, nudging his head just the slightest bit upwards to allow you better access. Zoro’s thumb didn’t stop making lazy revolutions into your skin. “Doesn’t seem like you mind.” 

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips. You leaned forward, pushing him back onto the bed, before pausing to lean down and unfasten the straps of his shoes. 

“You’re a real charmer.” Zoro didn’t complain, though, seeming more than pleased when you returned to kiss him, allowing him to fall back onto your bed now that you’d shed him of his footwear. “Little hawk, huh?” 

You huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s cute,” Zoro said casually, one arm coming to prop behind his head. He drank you in properly, this time, from where you were on your knees on the mattress, unstrapping your own shoes before joining him up on the bed. “You are.”

You met his eyes, and a flicker of warmth crossed over your heart. For a soft, silent moment, you let it breathe. Let it exist there. Let the realization that you may one day love this man fill your soul. 

“Come here,” you said, climbing over to Zoro even as you spoke. “I’m going to kiss you again.” 

Zoro just grinned.  

The Going Merry was just as you’d left it, although Mihawk had provided you with any extra provisions the crew might’ve wanted for the rest of your journey. You’d packed up and brought along your stuff, too, managing to finally decorate your cabin in the ship more to your likeness. Everything was ready, and you stood at the edge of the aftercastle, Zoro to your side as you stared down at the island you’d called home for all the years of your life. 

But Kuraigana Island wasn’t your only home anymore, and neither was the hawk eyed man who resided in it whenever he was not busy doing something else. Mihawk had left in the early morning, but the ghost of his presence still warmed you. This way, it was easier to let go, you thought. This way, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

“Casting off!” Luffy yelled, his voice puncturing the stillness of the island air from his usual spot on the goat at the ship’s bow. You turned away from the island, jacket lapping around your legs as the wind whipped against it. 

“Ready to go?” Zoro asked carefully. 

“Yeah,” you answered, turning away from the island. Zoro stood to your left, one hand perched on the hilt of his sword, the other relaxed at his side. His brows were creased, strong against the shimmer of the glinting sun just barely peeking through the darkness of the island. 

The fog washed his features in blue, all blurry around the edges, but you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful man you’d seen anyway. 

“I’m ready.”

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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author's note: i also wanted to pop in and say that i'm not opposed to writing more fics/oneshots of this character and in this universe (hereafter referred to as md!reader) with zoro <3 if you guys have any requests pop them in my box when my requests are open, plus i may write some on my own time too!

© halfvalid 2023

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Curiosity Killed the Cat

MC!Reader x Sebastian Sallow (platonic!)

Sebastian was definitely keeping a wide berth from you, you knew this much. What you didn’t know was why. He had been trying to sort out all his dark thoughts, his tumultuous feelings, the guilt of what happened to his uncle and losing Anne, possibly forever. You had done so much for him, he had realised this now. However, you had your own troubles and burdens; the loss of your dear Professor Fig, and well, the entire battle against Ranrok in general. He thought you certainly wouldn’t have time for his emotional problems too. Especially, after how he had treated you in the weeks leading up to those tragic events. He realised how selfish he had been and thought staying away from you would be helpful.

It was driving you absolutely crazy. The fact that the boy you’d given everything to would just now walk by with just a glance and a curt nod. It was worse than anything. More than once, you found yourself tempted to cast a basic cast (or even a confringo) at him just to get him to respond to you, react in some way to your existence.

In the weeks leading up to the end of term, you realised that without Professor Fig, you now didn’t really have anywhere to go once the Summer holidays arrived. You certainly couldn’t go back to the muggle orphanage. Originally, you had been planning to ask Sebastian and Anne if they’d speak to their uncle Solomon, about letting you stay… but clearly that wasn’t going to work anymore. You couldn’t ask Ominis, because he was trying to escape his family, and Poppy had her own issues with family. You thought of then asking Natty, but after she had literally taken a cruciatus curse for you, you weren’t quite convinced that Professor Onai would be willing to have the living, breathing reminder of it staying with them for the whole summer.

So, who had been left? In the end, you plucked up the courage to ask Imelda Reyes. Shockingly, the Quidditch obsessed witch had warmed up to you and had agreed, but only under the strict pretence that you would have to fly together a lot and let Imelda practise Quidditch as much as she pleased with you.

Of course, you felt you had no choice but to agree. However, in between these flying practices, you were finding yourself bored, restless and still thinking endlessly of Sebastian, of Ominis and Professor Fig. You needed something to do, desperately. So, one evening you had pulled out the old familiar field guide that Professor Weasley had given you at the start of your fifth year, and you decided to set a quest for yourself; specifically, to complete all the Merlin trials before the start of your sixth year.

It started out as a fun little distraction, but as the weeks drew on it became more and more like a desperate obsession. Sometimes, you’d spend hours trying to solve them, refusing to eat, drink or rest until you had solved that particular trial. You were slowly but surely running yourself ragged over these damn trials.

It didn’t take long for Imelda to be concerned after your flying times started slowing down, and Imelda being Imelda, she certainly didn’t hesitate to call you out on it. More than once she had uttered, “You look awful, Y/N.”

On this particular day, you planned to solve two Merlin trials that were close to Feldcroft. They were too close for your liking to the village Sebastian grew up in, and you had been wanting to avoid it for a long time, but at this point you just couldn’t help yourself. You had to solve them. You had to solve them all.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was sat outside on the grass by his house, reading a book. He looked up to notice the familiar outline of you flying on your thestral overhead, looking positively wild. Curiosity and concern piqued, he closed his book and decided to try and follow you. It took him a while to track down your trail, only having the vague idea of what direction you were going in, and he sighed in relief when he saw the thestral hoofprints that soon evolved into your familiar steps.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he saw you, but he certainly wasn’t anticipating the scene he found. You sat there on the stony cobblestones of the Merlin trial, almost in tears and muttering to yourself. “Where are you?” You frantically whispered, as you started rapidly casting confringo and incendio at literally everything. “There must be another! Why aren’t you working?” You muttered again, growling in frustration.

You stood up to turn and cast confringo once again, as you heard something behind you, but before you cast, you gasped in shock and your wand fell from your hand, clattering onto the cobblestone. Both of you stood there, staring at each other, neither of you sure what to say.

The longer you both stood there in silence, the deeper Sebastian’s brow furrowed in deep concern as he looked you over. “You look awful.” His words echoed in your mind like he was Imelda’s parrot.

“Thanks very much, you don’t look so great yourself.” You retorted, sighing slightly, his words affecting you more than you’d care to admit.

An awkward silence passed between you. “Why are you here?” Sebastian asked, stepping forward. “Why are you here?” You countered defensively, taking a subtle step back. “Saw you flying overhead, got curious.” Sebastian replied nonchalantly, shrugging slightly.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

As soon as you said it, you outwardly cringed, feeling like it was very inappropriate in the circumstances. Your flushed face looked around for an escape.

“I’m sorry, that was-” “No, it’s okay.” You tried to apologise, but Sebastian cut in before you could finish. Another awkward pause ensued.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you in Feldcroft? Shouldn’t you be back at home or wherever.” You kicked the ground with your shoe as you tried to think of a response, stammering slightly. “I can’t go back. Was going to stay with Fig, but obviously that didn’t work out.” You forced an awkward laugh, burying a sob that threatened to surface. “I’m staying with- well, it isn’t important. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” You turned away from him, considering the conversation over.

“You’re trying to solve the Merlin trial, aren’t you?” Sebastian said it as more of a statement rather than a question, as if he already knew the answer. You raised an eyebrow, feeling as if he somehow knew what you had been up to this whole time. “Yes, I am. Trying to, anyway. This one is impossible!” You paused, looking at Sebastian’s face with suspicion. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he replied. “That’s because I'm not. Ominis has been writing to me the whole summer with updates about various… things.” At this he paused, a small, sly smirk appearing on his face. “He told me that he’s heard about several sightings of the Hero of Hogwarts-” “Don’t call me that.” You interrupted him, muttering under your breath as you grit your teeth, your face contorting with disgust at that name. “Okay… sightings of a certain person flying around the Scottish highlands and mysterious ivy arches appearing in your wake.”

You turned back completely to face him fully, your mouth gaping open, your shoulders slumping down. “Recently his letters have been sounding more concerned. People are worried about you.” Sebastian sighed loudly, restarting his sentence. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be, I’m fine. Just passing the time, that’s all.” You replied, a little more hostile than you had intended. Sebastian shook his head, reaching for you as you stepped back. “Why are you doing this, Y/N?” Sebastian stepped toward you again. “Why not?” You retorted, your voice raising slightly.

“You’re taking it too far, Y/N. It has become an obsession. It has got to stop.” He pleaded with you. “You hypocrite! This is harmless!” You cried out, shaking your head in disbelief, “You’d know all about taking things too far, wouldn’t you?!” He stopped, shaking his head with a grim expression, knowing that he probably deserved that comment.

“What happens when you’ve finished all of them, Y/N? What then?”

A heavy silence passed between you. You suddenly sat back down on the ground, completely stunned by the question as if you had just taken a stupefy to the chest. In all this time, you hadn’t actually thought about it. You presumed it would take the whole school holiday, but you only had eight trials left to go, and three weeks to do them in. You’d be done, for sure, before then.

“I don’t know.” Your voice sounded small and strangled, as you looked up to the sky which was beginning to darken for the evening. “I have to solve them. I just know I have to.”

At that moment, Sebastian spotted the missing fire pillar that you’d been so fervently seeking. “It’s over there.” He pointed to it in defeat. You immediately threw powerful confringo spells at all the pillars. The arch reveals itself and you sighed in immense relief, finally smiling.

Sebastian smiled along with you. “That’s very satisfying.” He admitted. “It is, for a few seconds. Then I feel empty, hollow, and craving more.”

“So, you look for the next one to find that joy for a few more seconds.” Sebastian shook his head. “That’s a slippery slope you are on, Y/N.”

“I know.” You stared up at the sky, doing anything to avoid looking at him.

“Come back with me, it is getting dark.” Sebastian offered, turning around and walking away, not looking back to see if you were following him or not. For whatever reason, you found yourself silently following him back into Feldcroft. He could hear your footsteps behind him, but chose not to say anything.

As you gingerly stepped through the front door of the familiar house, you immediately felt the intense pang of a bizarre mix of guilt, nostalgia and longing. It was strange to walk in and not see Solomon pottering about, to not see Anne sat on her chair or her bed. “Do sit down.” Sebastian offered, and you hesitated, looking between your remaining options. Instinctively, you avoided Anne’s usual seats.

A cup of tea and an apple was thrusted under your face. “Eat. Drink.” Sebastian practically commanded, the undertone betrayed his deep concern. You looked up at him quizzically. “You look like you need something sweet. I know you like them.”

You tried to smile, but it fell rather flat. As you sat and nourished yourself in silence, a heavy oppressive feeling sat on your chest. “How can you stand it?” You blurted out suddenly, turning to look at Sebastian. He raised an eyebrow, inviting you to elaborate. “Being in this house, alone, I mean.”

Sebastian simply shrugged, moving to lean on the kitchen countertop. “Because I have no choice. These were my actions, and now I must suffer the consequences. I learnt the hard way that some things just cannot be changed.”

“I don’t think I could do that.” “Do what?” “That.” You vaguely gestured at him. He chuckled. “It seems after everything, I still have new things to teach my charge.” A smile and small blush appeared on your face as you thought back to your first trip with him to Hogsmeade. “Ah, there’s the elusive smile I’ve been looking for.” “Stop it, Sebastian.” You smiled despite your words.

The atmosphere already felt a little lighter and a weight felt like it had finally been released from your shoulders. This. This feeling is what you’d been searching for all summer. Sebastian gave a soft smile, kneeling down so that he was eye-level with you. “Y/N, I promise to solve the rest of them with you, together. I want to turn this all into a positive memory for you.”

You wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He gasps slightly, surprised by the motion, before he returned it. “You already have, Sebastian.”

[barbika1508]

Star struck (Steven Grant x Reader)

Word Count: 2,7 K

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Cuteness

Summary: Y/N meets a celebrity and Steven doesn’t quite know who she is talking about, but still manages to get jealous which doesn’t go past Y/N, who finds it all amusing, given she only has eyes for her boys.

/ Masterlist 2023 /

I’m barely able to hold back my squealing from excitement, the bus ride home eventful as I can’t stop humming. I could barely sit still. And of course, the elevator takes forever when you least want it to. So, power walking down the corridor I restrain myself in that aspect. Until I reach the front door of the apartment, fumbling with the key, almost walking into the door as one of my boyfriend’s did a double lock.

‘’Open c’mon.’’ I whine, stubbornly pushing patience lost. Jumping inside I’m surprised that I catch my balance looking up seeing Steven peeking around from the bookshelf having stood up I’m sure due to my commotion.

‘’You will never believe what happened!’’ I call out still containing my excitement while my boyfriend cutely tilts his head, confusion written all over his handsome features. Spinning on my heel I close the doors, leaving the key inside the lock.

‘’I was at Piccadilly; random I know it bustling with tourists’ dear gods. A little bit of sun and everyone just comes out from hiding, unbelievably predictable humans are, aren’t they?’’ As I ramble, I pull over my head my purse, hanging it onto the newly acquired coat hanger we’ve gotten just the previous weekend having stumbled upon a market where they sold antiques.

‘’I wanted to pick up some cakes from the new place they opened. The one I mentioned that I saw from TikTok?’’ I make a gesture stopping briefly as he walks slowly closer looking cosy. So handsome and cute at the same time, a dark green sweater, and comfy grey sweatpants his curls are wild enticing me to just hug him and never let him go.

He gives the slightest nod making me clap my hands ‘’Yes!’’ I cheer beginning to pull of one sleeve of his padded jeans jacket I lately am obsessed with wearing ‘’Anyways the line was insaneeeeee!’’ I give him a deadpan look ‘’I swear babe, I would've waited until tomorrow.’’ Slipping my right arm out I throw the jacket over the entire coat hanger ‘’ANYWAY I digress.’’ I shake my head bringing my hands together as I walk up to Steven who is still looking at me tentatively, confusion gone a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

‘’Wow you look handsome.’’ I find myself getting distracted once I’m standing in front of him, earning myself his chuckles, one hand settling over my hip the other cupping my joined hands delivering a sweet kiss on top. Unable to move past how handsome he is, how he makes my heart speed just by a look let alone the sweet gesture of kissing my hand.

‘’So, you were at Piccadilly.’’ he reminds amused, his hands crossing together as he settles them on the low of my back holding me close. I shamelessly press both of my palms flat over his firm chest.

‘’Yes, there! The crowd on the bus just got too rowdy and I figured why not get the deserts. Anyway, I jumped out the first moment I could. Had to make my way from the very back, bloody hell…’’ his smile widens ‘’...I almost had to wrestle a woman to give room so I could go out!’’

‘’And you’d win the fight if a drawl broke lose.’’ he teases to which I point my finger confirming his words giving a curt nod.

‘’You know I would.’’ I snort ‘’So, I jumped slash got thrown out basically. Almost kissed the ground in relief.’’

We both make grimaces at that Steven still amused and unusually standing still as he watches me ‘’Okay the good part. So, I looked up to the front of the bus hearing the doors closing and then, barely got a step forward when a guy followed, landing not so graciously behind me. The bus just took off.’’

He shakes his head tsking to which I nod ‘’Right??! So rude.’’ I shake my head along with him ‘’I instinctively grabbed the guy’s arm and his way too fancy coat and literally dragged the man onto the sidewalk and away from the buses splash zone. Of course, there was a huge puddle there.’’ I raise my right hand giving him the OK gesture.

‘’Uh oh dove.’’ he begins but I put my finger on his lip, stopping but mostly surprising him as his eyes dares from my hand back to me.

‘’Stop thinking ahead!’’ I warn ‘’The man who I grabbed and “saved”...’’ I do the quotation marks ‘’Was none other than Kit Harrington!’’

I look at him pointedly watching his blank expression as it switches from puzzlement to tenses as soon as I raise an eyebrow pointedly, the whole reveal not reaching what I hoped it would.

‘’Jon Snow?’’ I try giving him the biggest hint, his perplexity turning into furrowed brows as he offers a sympathetic smile.

‘’I’m sorry my dove, but I’m really blanking. Is he the character from yesterday's movie?’’

Not to be over dramatic but I mentally face-palm myself. For a man who knows names of pharaohs, and can read Egyptian hieroglyphs, and remembers history dates better than anyone I’ve ever met, and also absurd details I tell him about myself and in general he really, reaaaaallly sucks at remembering the names of characters, shows and movies.

‘’Wow.’’ I begin attempting to take a step back as I raise my hands as if in surrender ‘’Woww!’’ I repeat intent on ducking to get out of his hold, but he’s faster knowing all my moves after all picking me up even as I twist around in his hold ‘’Whelp- STEVEN!!!’’ I shout grabbing onto his arms resting under my belly.

‘’Relax…’’ he begins with a smile in his voice.

‘’YOU’RE GONNA DROP ME, STEVEN…’’ I continue twisting, not sure what to hold onto as he has me in a weird position and quite high up, holding me in such a way that I’m far from the ground. Okay sounds dramatic again but he could drop me at any moment, I would not get the chance to turn and catch myself like a cat. In any case.

‘’I’m not dove!’’ he reassures making his way to the couch, hold firm ‘’Stop wigglin’ so much, you little fox.’’

Twisting me in his hold effortlessly I must add I cling onto his shoulders the moment I’m turned, one hand settling around his head the other, around his shoulders, legs settled over his upper torso.

‘’Why raise me so high up?’’ I whine as he stands still his hands barely supporting me as my grip is enough to keep myself steady ‘’I know you’re strong but, my gods love. Did Marc talk you into this?!’’

I grumble keeping still as I can my thighs beginning to strain ‘’Didn’t have to. I just know you to well.’’ comes his muffled reply ‘’Now can you slowly let go of me for a moment pretty girl? I kind of don’t see where the couch is anymor’.’’

His chuckles are way amused by the tingle of fear that’s still present. Only when I feel his hands move under my thighs do I register his words, slowly letting go, thrusting him to hold me.

‘’Please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me…’’ I repeat under my breath switching into glaring at him as he twists me like a gymnast effortlessly, lying me down first and then settling himself atop of me, his weight welcomed as he keeps me pinned, arms caging me in, head settling over chest, looking up at me.

‘’I would neva.’’ for good measure he shifts and presses a kiss to my nose.

‘’I know.’’ I admit watching his eyebrows raise up as he stares at me ‘’It’s something about height that makes me irrational I guess.’’ I make up a lame excuse although not so farfetched either. Cupping his cheeks I admire him, how soft his eyes are, his tolerance for my rambling saint like. All the boys are patient with me.

‘’So, about this Kit fellow…’’ he begins his face slightly hardening eyes averting from me for a moment. I recognized his train of thought where it’s going with it, I’m sure the other boys present as his eyes drift towards the blank screen of the TV.

Albeit awkward as he’s further down on me, I hold myself up with my left shaky arm but end up being successful as I direct his face upwards bending enough so I can press my lips against his distracting him. It lasts a second or two, unfortunately the position completely comfortless.

‘’Okay you gotta move up, pretty boy I can’t kiss you like that.’’ I say as I fall against the pillow reaching back to rub the back of my neck ‘’I feel like I almost sprained a muscle there…’’

This time he stops me with a kiss, having raised just perfectly shutting me up in the best way possible. I can feel his smile as he moves his lips slowly taking his time. I savour him likewise, always eager for whatever my boys give me. Fast, slow, hard, teasing. I'm just happy to be with them.

The kiss gets broken too soon for my liking, my fingers barely sliding into his glorious curls. I watch as his dreamy look shifts into a serious one. Before I can question him further, he ends up burying his face into my neck as rest atop of me, his weight not a problem as he’s strategically lying down. He’s that considerate yeah.

‘’Are the boys annoying you?’’ I whisper running my fingers over his scalp to calm him down, his nod subtle to which I hum ‘’Lads it’s rainy. And its cuddle time. You’ve got plenty of cuddles, okay? Stop bothering Steven.’’

As I speak, I stare up at the ceiling and the wood planks holding the roof above us - literally. I raise my hand just in sync as Steven turns his head the other way, my eyes following his onto the still blank TV screen. For a second, I watch Marc as he glares at himself his hold tightening.

Knowing no words are going to help as the boys share one body and can behave like brat’s, I reach for the coffee table grabbing the remote thank the gods successfully, turning the TV on immediately.

‘’Do you wanna watch a documentary on Atlantis?’’ I break the silence and I hope their arguing, feeling the shift in my boyfriend's hold, the man snuggling closer moving his head so that he has it tucked under my chin but not uncomfortably as I move the buttons of the remote, onto my profile and my list to watch.

‘’I would love to, mon amour.’’

My cheeks are hit with heat instantly. Steven doesn’t often speak French but when he does, when he uses French nicknames…safe to say I’m ready to throw my panties at him. Clicking onto the documentary I slowly exhale trying to calm myself down, content to be where I am.

The intro drags out the whole explanation kind of unnecessary as I know the entirety of the alure that is the lost city. Its reason enough to avoid some documentaries as the information tends to repeat itself. But not even 10 minutes into it the host gets revealed to which my hand shoots out as I point ahead!

‘’That’s Kit Harrington!’’ I reveal excitement again hitting me, Steven raising onto his elbows as I wiggle in excitement ‘’He was so nice. Kind of nervous to be honest looking around but not in a creepy way. Let me up I want to show you, we took a selfie…’’ giggling in excitement to show him the said selfie Steven lies back onto me keeping me in place his pouty and grumpy expression making me halt in confusion ‘’So now you take selfies huh??’’

‘’I mean…’’ I drag the word out ‘’He is a celebrity.’’ I raise my eyebrows in question, my answer not satisfying his query. I watch as he looks at the TV, Kit explaining something, ending up giggling with his co-host.

‘’Celebrity or not, he ain’t tha’ special.’’ Steven grumbles getting up sitting on his knees glaring at the TV raising his arm up ‘’Look at him. Shave much?’’ the insult has my lips retreating into a line as I try to keep laughter at bay admiring my boyfriend as he gets unusually grumpy Steven being a sweetheart at all times and unapologetically himself, grumpiness not really something I associated him by.

That’s Marc’s thing.

‘’Must be the curls.’’ He concludes pointing his finger at me as in accusation his action having me raise my hands in surrender ‘’You have a type don’t ya?’’ he grins in triumph as if he had figured me out.

‘’If my type is cuddly, extremely handsome and knowledgeable in ancient Egyptology who kick’s ass and is very smart then I definitely have a type.’’ I muse spreading my arms out to invite him back in. But instead, my boyfriend remains on his knee’s hand still in the air as he looks at the TV, and at Kit still speaking the silence and his lack of reaction self-explanatory.

‘’You dofus!’’ I shout grabbing the pillow behind me swinging it over my head with both arms blindly to hit him ‘’I was taking about you Steven!!! My gods!!!’’ I complain staring at him in disbelief at how he doesn’t automatically think about himself ‘’The man is married for the love of, wahhh.’’ Frustrated I can’t even end the sentence grabbing the second pillow my head landing not so nicely on the arm rest as I swing it again.

But my boyfriend is deceiving under the lose clothing he prefers to wear. The man is strong as an ox – he displayed a fraction of his strength when he carried me over – pushing the second pillow out of the way landing atop of me once more grasping my hands making sure to pull me lower and flat against the couch.

Blinking in downright bafflement I look at the calm expression Steven is sporting as he’s observing me, I’m sure holding himself back from firing another sarcastic comment against the forgotten documentary still playing in the background. Thanks to his closeness I’m pulled into glorifying my boyfriend’s handsome features. The was his lips had gone in a line portraying sternness, pointy nose curving nicely, half closed eyes providing a mystery as to what is going through his mind. As he subtly shift’s a lose curl from his unruly hair falls over his forehead my eyes flickering to it.

‘’It’s the curls.’’

The statement has me meeting his gaze, a bright smile spreading over his features ‘’I knew it.’’ Smug as ever he muses, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

‘’Hmm.’’ I begin any rebuttal dying down as I take him in ‘’Must be.’’ I murmur getting serious myself, cupping his face feeling how warm he is refocusing his triumph back onto me ‘’But I like you the most.’’

I end up whispering as if I’m telling him a secret.

And que back my wonderful shy Steven, whose cheeks under my palms heat up. He ducks down lying half on me face buried under my chin his movements of rearranging us hurried but effective and soft in nature, leaving me giggling halfway through.

‘’Cutie patotie.’’ I cheer wrapping my arms around my boyfriend even hocking a leg over his thigh, my head falling to the right as I look at the TV. Rising my hand higher I begin playing with his curls smiling quietly to myself as the documentary has ended. I watch as the next suggested show begins the countdown to be played.

3. 2. 1.

At the grandiose music intro, the title gets spoken out loud Steven immediately turning his head to face the TV, not moving an inch his attention stolen. It’s always about Egyptology. Even though a good 3 minutes into the show Kit appears again, my boyfriend remains quiet this time around.

So, I let him be enjoying my position, and his warmth and gentle fleeting touches. It’s a good day today. Having met a celebrity not at all that much of an accomplishment.

This right here…oh yeah. Perfection.

Copyright 2023© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

[truerhearts]

Envy - Eren Jaeger

Eren x fem!reader, pt 1/2 (pt2 in progress)

3.2k words

tw - slight sexual assault/mentions of assault 

dom!eren

Eren and (y/n) have had a confusing, game-playing relationship for a while now. All that changes when he sees Floch getting a bit too close to the reader.

.・。.・゜✭ .・。.・゜✭ .・。.・゜✭

Emotions were something that never came easily to Eren. His head and his heart constantly at war, and he was caught in the crossfire.

He knew he loved her. He knew he loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her. From their short interactions to him lying awake in his bed, thinking about their future together once the war was over, he was in love.

But he’d never dare admit it. He needed to remain cold, stoic. He had priorities. And he wouldn’t allow himself to get close to anyone anymore, lest they perish. He couldn’t go through that again. The pain of losing so many of those close around him was unbearable. But this meant he did get good at shutting his feelings away. The only way to get by was to numb the pain. There was no time to mourn anymore, there were more important things at hand.

And with that, he had to make a choice. He always kept her at arms length, being curt in his responses and limiting contact.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t steal looks from her whenever she wasn’t looking. Quite frequently. He was smart about it though. He got caught only when he wanted her to catch him. And when she did catch him, time would stop as they gazed at each other. This was just one of his ways of dropping a hint. Others would include brushing against her while walking by, or helping her with the many impossible buckles of their uniforms. The latter was one he particularly enjoyed - it would make her flustered, his touch while innocent in the moment sent her mind running wild at other time he’d be fiddling with her uniform buckles. Eren would walk away from the encounter triumphant, though he wouldn’t let her see it. His heart wanted her, but his mind wouldn’t let him, to protect himself.

She admired Eren, much more than Eren would ever think she did. His willpower and strength were something she appreciated. And, he was quite easy on the eyes, watching him during his training ignited a fire inside her. His toned body glistening with moisture from his hard work, his hair in a messy half up half down bun with the strands sticking carelessly to his forehead. The sight of him in that state almost felt illegal to gaze at. Chest heaving, mouth ajar, skin flushed, veins protruding. Whenever she knew he was training she’d conveniently be hanging around, just to catch a few glimpses that sent her imagination running wild.

She thought she was being sneaky, but Eren always knew she was there watching him the whole time. He’d embellish a bit sometimes, putting on a good show for her, but he always acted like he couldn’t see her. He didn’t want her to stop coming to watch, it inflated his ego and gave him a bit of a rush.

Despite her strong feelings and undeniable attraction towards Eren, she was frustrated with him. Whenever she tried to speak with him, he would cut things short and move on. He had changed over the years, understandably so. But she wanted to be his shoulder to lean on when things got dark. She truly imagined she could help him with whatever he needed. If only he would let her in.

All of this would change one fateful night. The scouts had a collective day off the next day, which were far and few between. No responsibilities early the next morning meant celebrations in the evening. Most of the soldiers were in the mess hall drinking their sorrows away. It was loud and rowdy, but such distractions were much needed in such dire times.

Eren was sitting with his usual crowd, his face slightly more red than usual. He felt laid back and relaxed, swirling the alcohol in his cup as Armin was reminiscing with him and Mikasa. Though Eren wasn’t paying attention. His gaze was set on her. She was across the room, but he had the perfect view of her.

The only problem?

She and Floch looked like they were getting just a bit too friendly for Eren’s liking.

This was all part of her plan though. She wanted Eren to get jealous. Test the waters a bit, just to see if he did have any sort of feelings for her. But little did she know that Eren was a lot more possessive of her than he ever let on.

She quickly glanced over, making direct eye contact with his striking green eyes. Butterflies rapidly filled her stomach and time came to a stop as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in his chair sideways, back resting against the wall, his body facing hers. His aura radiated confidence and a bit of desire, a dangerous combination. One arm resting on the back of his chair, the other on the table, gripping his empty cup. A strand of his hair gracefully falling out of place as she noticed the light blush on his cheeks.

Again, illegal. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks as Eren refused to be the first one to break eye contact. They sat there gazing at one another for what felt like an eternity before (much to her dismay) Floch brought her back to reality.

“(Y/n)?” Floch asked. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” She turned back to Floch, giving him a slight smile.

“Okay, good, so anyways…” Floch continued, but his words were drowned out in her mind that was plagued with thoughts of Eren. She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard Floch inch his chair closer.

“Floch, “she began. “What are you- “

He placed his hand on her thigh and gripped it. “Is something the matter?”

She didn’t know what to say. She immediately looked to Eren, who had never taken his eyes off of them. It now looked like he was going to crush the glass with his bare hand. Though she could see his anger in his strained hand, he remained expressionless, other than a slight twitch in his eyebrow. Seeing Floch that close to her triggered something inside him. He watched them intently, rage igniting inside him, waiting for what would happen next.

She didn’t know whether to stop Floch or let him proceed. She didn’t necessarily dislike him, but out of most of the cadets he definitely wasn’t her first choice. She felt bad for using him to provoke Eren’s jealousy, but she needed to get some sort of reaction out of the stoic boy. She couldn’t stand his indifference towards her anymore and she thought this was the best way to do it. And, while perhaps it wasn’t the best way to get his attention, she was right, rage was building inside of Eren.

He kept a cool exterior, but he watched intently, pondering his options, and waiting for their next move. But at this rate he knew he had to act. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Eren’s inhibitions were washing away that evening, and though she hadn’t done anything different to her appearance, Eren craved her more than he usually did, and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself back tonight.

Floch leaned in closely, his warm breath hitting her ear, the smell of alcohol that was radiating off of him was quite potent. “I’m not getting the wrong impression, am I?” He questioned innocently, his hand moving up her thigh, dangerously close to her core. Floch blocked her view of Eren, and she didn’t know how to respond. His hot breath bathed her neck and she decided he was going too far. She placed her hand on top of his to move it off.

That was it. Eren took the last swig of his alcohol before placing glass down forcefully. He stood up from his chair, almost tipping it over.

Armin paused his story as he watched Eren walk away. “Eren, where are you going?” Armin asked. Eren didn’t reply. He made his way over to her and Floch, trying his hardest to contain himself and his anger.

“Floch.” Eren said lowly. “What do you think you’re doing?” His words sharp like the blades they used to slay titans.

Floch pulled away from her and scoffed. “What is it to you?” He looked up at Eren and was met with the most jarring expression on his face. Eren’s face was blank, but it was in his eyes. The look in his eyes was indescribable, being only comparable to what one would describe as mad, unhinged, deranged. He managed to intimidate Floch with only one look. Floch was about to speak again but Eren made a move. He slammed his hand between them on the table, making Floch back fully away from her. The slam was loud enough to make her flinch, and to gather the attention of those in close vicinity.

“What’s your problem, Eren?” Floch asked in a condescending tone, rising to his feet, trying his best to stand up to Eren.

“You.” Eren leered, inching closer to Floch. They were so close they could feel their breath on each others faces.

(Y/n) felt like she had to do something before this escalated, she could feel the rage radiating off Eren and she didn’t know what he would be capable of, especially if he was a little tipsy.

“Eren, please,” she whispered, placing a hand in his shoulder, “Stop.”

“You heard her, Eren. Back off.” Floch threatened.

He shrugged her off, maintaining eye contact with Floch, not faltering one bit. Floch was about to push Eren, but Eren was the superior soldier (what with all his extra training and all.) Before anyone could realize what was happening, Eren had Floch on the table, gripping his wrists behind his back with one hand, the other holding his head. The room went silent, those who weren’t already watching turned their heads, their drunken gazes fixed situation.

(Y/n) tugged his arm. “Eren, please!” She said through gritted teeth. He listened this time, but he wouldn’t leave without saying a final few words to Floch. He leaned down and spoke in the struggling boy’s ear.

“You better stay away from her.” He said, his words tinged with venom.

He shrugged her off again but then grabbed her wrist tightly, dragging her out of the mess hall, their comrades silent as they watched (Y/n) and Eren exit. The door closed behind them with a slam, and they were alone in the hallway together. She tried to free herself from his grip, but Eren wasn’t letting up.

“Eren… let go.” She struggled. He wasn’t listening, he was too angry about what just happened. He was angry with himself, letting Floch (of all people) get so close to her like that. If he just would have said something sooner, she would have been around him tonight. Maybe it’s time to stop playing games…

“You’re hurting me…” She pleaded. He finally realized and let go.

He turned to face her, brows furrowed, an exhausted expression on his flushed face. “Sorry…” He mumbled.

She rubbed her wrist as she gazed at him. She sighed. “I think we need to talk,”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Eren said, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting off in the other direction. He had enough of the evening. He thought it best to head to bed before he did something else he’d regret in the morning.

“No.” she said, running in front of him, blocking him from proceeding. She took in the sight of him, his messy hair, his flushed face, his green eyes, illuminated by a torch burning in the hall, and the moonlight coming in from the adjacent windows. Her mind went back to just a few moments ago, when she met Eren’s gaze from across the room, and then his display possessiveness over her. It was probably quite excessive in the moment, but the thought of it did something to her. She remained composed even though those fiery little butterflies were creeping back in again. “We need to talk.”

He grumbled. “Fine, but we’re not doing it here.” He said, walking past her. She followed him, walking through the dark corridors of the castle they were calling HQ. He finally made it to the meeting room. No one would be in here this late, it was the perfect place to talk.

He took a seat on the ledge by the window, arms crossed, gazing out into the night. She sat on the table facing him. They sat in silence for a while, Eren appearing more interested with whatever he was looking at outside. Some trees maybe.

She huffed, knowing she’d have to carry this conversation. “What was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said flatly.

“Don’t be an idiot. Why did you do that to Floch?”

“You know why.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

He was confusing her. The games he would play would frustrate her to no end. Helping her with her buckles, making and holding eye contact, his lingering touch. But then countering it with limited interactions, short, indifferent responses, brushing her off. She wanted him to say it plainly for her, that way she could know for sure.

Eren, though keeping his cool on the exterior, was having a battle inside his head. Mulling over the outcomes and consequences if he came out and told her how he truly felt right then and there. Did he dare get close and end up possibly losing her down the line? Maybe that was the unfortunate part that comes with the beauty of love. Like many things in this world, it must balance. Night and day, hot and cold… love and loss.

In any other situation, Eren probably would have shrugged her off like he normally did, but tonight he had some liquid courage in his system, making his better judgement take a step back for one night.

Eren turned his head to look at her, the moonlight that crept in through the window illuminated her beautifully, making her look angelic.

He pushed himself off the ledge of the window. He walked towards her at a painfully slow pace, eventually stopping almost on top of her so that she needed to crane her neck to look up at him. He stood between her legs; his gaze slightly softened but he wouldn’t allow her to see anything more emotional than that. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

He breath caught in her throat as he placed a strong hand on her waist, another on her thigh, almost cupping her ass. She was speechless.

“I’m sure you can conclude why I did what I did to him.” He said, maintaining eye contact.  

He managed to take a step even closer to her. “I don’t ever want to see anyone get that close to you again.” He said firmly.

Hearing those swords stirred up a twisted sense of joy inside her. She wanted nothing more than to be his, but she didn’t want Eren to think she’d fall into his clutches so easily.

“I don’t really think you have the right to say that.” She spoke. “I’m not your property, I can talk to whoever I like.”

“Yeah?” Eren questioned. He got even closer to her, their noses almost touching. She grasped his upper arm, feeling how toned he was through his loose shirt. He tightened the grip he had on her waist slightly as he spoke: “That’s not really what you want though, is it. You wanted me to come over there and do something.” She could faintly smell alcohol on his breath. “Admit it. You feel the same for me as I do for you.” The tension between them was so thick, hearts beating rapidly, their need for each other growing exponentially with every passing moment.

“And what feeling is that?” She questioned without hesitation, wanting so badly, so desperately to hear him say it. Just once was all she needed to satisfy herself.

This sent Eren over the edge, frustrated that he actually needed to say it to her. He suddenly pulled her even closer to him, his hands gripping her tightly. “I want you all to myself.” He spoke, the words dripping off his tongue like sweet, sweet honey. “You’re mine. I don’t care about anything else. Just you.” He didn’t loosen his grip on her, the fire of desire burning so bright inside of him as he looked down at her. He admired her features, the way she gazed up at him with innocent, doe-like eyes, the need to possess and protect growing within him.

She placed a hand gingerly on his chest, gripping his shirt tightly and pulling him closer to her.  “I’m all yours, Eren.” She said, barely above a whisper, fully submitting to him.

That’s all he needed to hear before moving his hand from her thigh to her arm, tracing a slow, deliberate path that sent shivers cascading through her body.  His touch ignited an even stronger primal fire within her, and her body now demanded fulfillment. His fingers moved from her arm to the back of her head, tangling them in her hair, grasping it gently while pushing her face towards his.  

His touch was much gentler than she anticipated, but still strong and commanding. Their lips finally met in a searing kiss, a messy amalgamation of heat, urgency, and desire that set their souls ablaze. Their tongues and teeth clashed, her hands reaching up to play with the hair at the back of his head that never made it into his lazy, messy bun. As she pulled him in slightly closer, Eren’s need for her became much more evident. He pushed his body against hers, moving one of his hands to the small of her back, further pushing her into his body.

Her hands never rested, moving from his back to his waist, lingering on his abdomen and chest, then up his neck finally resting on his shoulders. But they wouldn’t stay there for long as she repeated the process again, never getting tired of the feeling of him under her touch.

He didn’t want the moment to end. The feeling of her dragging her fingers up and down his body drove him wild and had him craving even more from her. An ache that demanded satiation. He deepened the kiss, making it evident that he craved and needed more of her.

He reluctantly pulled away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips as if unwilling to let go. He removed his shirt, carelessly tossing it to the side, revealing his sculpted physique. The soft light accentuated the contours of his body, which further captivated her gaze. He stepped forward again. “Do you want this?”

She gazed up at him again with her doe-like eyes and nodded. He leaned in, his lips connecting with the taut skin of her neck before growling in her ear. “Then say it.” His hands reached for her belt, which he then slowly began unbuckling at a painful pace. She stayed silent until Eren looked into her eyes again, silently urging her to say what he wanted to hear.

“I-I want this.” She whispered. “I want you.” She gazed into those green eyes she was so familiar with, desire burning in her own. Despite everything they had put each other through, the toxic games they played with each other, they were here, right now, together. Eren stood up and smiled slightly at her as the words fell from her lips into the thickened air around them.

“Much better.”

a/n: I had a lot of fun writing this ngl... the TENSION, and just picturing eren getting all jealous just really got me goin ya know... I debated taking it further but I wasn’t sure if I should have lol

Edit: part 2 is now posted!!

MASTERLIST

[wannaeatramyeon]

i think sammy with a model reader would be so fun! it's like the classic gangster/business man x model, but i feel like he'd initially only be with them for the status (all the finest things in life vibe) and then maybe fall for them. the progression from 'this is to soothe my inferiority complex' to 'oh shit i actually like them?' would be 10/10

This is a little short but hopefully it hits the spot. I've always liked the progression of this strictly no strings attached to 🥰

God this week irl has been wild. Happy Friday anon and thanks for the ask!

Samuel Seo x Reader: Casual

The 3rd and 4th Affiliate President of Workers caught with model Y/N last night! Read more...

(Huh, sorta strangers to lovers!)

Samuel wanted to be king, but never expected to find a queen.

You were supposed to be just a fun toy for his ego. His eyes met yours across a ballroom, some party sponsored by Workers and attended by idols and models, schmoozers and narcissists.

You were no stranger to attention, but Samuel was also no stranger to beauty. He charmed you with honeyed words as you smiled demurely and peeked at him from under your lashes.

When you took the initiative and asked him to dance, he was surprised at your forwardness, but of course a lifetime of good looks would give you confidence and little familiarity with rejection. And then when you asked him to come up to your room, the audacity almost left him speechless.

That night you fell into bed together, discovering each other's bodies. You didn't have any words for one another, Samuel didn't want to know you, and you just wanted a fuck.

The second time you met again by chance, finding each other at some crowded function.

The third almost made Samuel chuckle, like you were bound together by a string of fate.

The fourth wasn't an accident.

Casual fucks turned into casual dates. A coffee here, and a meal there.

The President of Workers seen with an up-and-coming model broke the news. The optics of this worked out well for both of you. Something quick and easy to soothe each other's pride.

But then the heated kisses and roaming hands turned into debates and discussions at 3am.

Curt, polite greetings became teasing quips and banter.

Vapid small talk changed to glimpses into Big Deal and Gangseo.

You opened your mouth and made Samuel laugh.

You offered him solutions to headaches when he thought there was none.

You made him smile during his most deprived moments.

You gave sentiments to a heartless man.

In the end you offered him rose tinted glasses, and Samuel gladly put them on.

[captaincryolicious]

trapped in misery...

...until he comes to save the day

➳ scaramouche x gn!reader

➳ oneshot ; 1.3k

➳ cw. fluff, hurt/comfort, y/n has no motivation to do anything, scara is ooc but idc i just wanted to write scara comfort

zep's note ; this is so self-indulgent that i'll probably take it down sooner or later heh

content under the cut | masterlist

The clock on your nightstand read two-point-eighteen pm. 

Scintillating rays of the autumn sun filtered through the closed blinds, but through the change of seasons the strength and gentleness of the sun was fading, and they reached you no longer. All that seemed to reach you was an impending feeling of gloom, and you couldn’t shake it off. 

Completely still, you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. At some point your thoughts had been running wild, one miserable thought following another, but by now your mind was empty and blank. It had been hours since you woke up, but your mind ran out of fuel and there was nothing left to think of. Yet, you didn’t move. You didn’t kick off your covers to get up and do something, even though that was probably the best thing to do right now. You couldn’t get yourself to do so, and you remained in bed idly, with no motivation or whatsoever to make a change to your current setting.

Oh, you could come up with plenty of things to do, that wasn’t the problem here. You could grab a book and read a little, get up and grab yourself something to eat, go outside to take a walk to feel better, tidy up your room to be productive, and so on. So many ideas, but they all lost their spark as soon as they popped up. It wasn’t laziness that kept you from acting, you were well aware. No, you wanted to do something, you wanted to get out of your current state, but nothing seemed promising enough to reel you out of that downward spiral. Nothing sparked your interest anymore, not even the things you usually loved to do. 

It was one of those days.

With a sigh, you pulled the covers a little higher up to your chin. You were buried in your soft duvets comfortably, but discomfort still coursed through your being. You wanted to close your eyes and go to sleep, just so that this day was over. You were tired, so so so tired. You didn’t want to feel anymore. And it was still so early in the afternoon. You allowed yourself to curl up into a little ball of misery, your gaze finally straying away from the ceiling as your eyes fluttered close. 

Darkness wrapped around you, literally and figuratively so. 

     “Y/N?” a voice filtered through the door, followed by a curt knock. 

You recognized that voice, and your heart jumped a little. But you didn’t reply, your voice gave in. You couldn’t get yourself to speak so loudly to allow him inside, and you stared at the door with the everlasting sadness lingering in the pit of your stomach. You felt so useless, even something as simple as calling out was too much for you today.

     “Whatever, I’m coming in,” you heard the person mutter, and the door opened. Scaramouche stepped into your room, merely a silhouette as the fickle rays of sunshine barely brought any light to your room. The blinds worked well to shroud your room in darkness. 

Scaramouche was quiet for a while, you felt his eyes observing you as he connected the dots. You, surrounded by darkness, still in bed even though the day had progressed for a big portion already, not saying a word upon his arrival. That could only mean one thing, and he knew all too well. 

     “Y/N…” he spoke, his voice unusually gentle. “You’re doing it again.” 

     “I know,” you whispered. 

     “Can I open the blinds?” Scaramouche asked, though you knew he would do it anyway regardless of your answer. 

     “Go ahead,” you mumbled, not looking forward to the sea of light that would flood your room in a moment. As much as you despised the darkness, it was also strangely… comforting, but in a way that smothered you slowly. 

You had to squint when the blinds no longer filtered out the sunlight from outside, and you pulled up the blankets to cover your face. Scaramouche was doing the right thing, you knew that much. Dwelling in the darkness wouldn’t get you anywhere, but you didn’t feel like being in the light either. 

But your boyfriend knew what to do, so he acted confidently. After all, he had seen you in such a state too many times for his liking, and over time he figured out how to deal with it when you were about to drown in another episode of misery. Though you didn’t act like it, you were always relieved when Scaramouche interfered with those moments. There was nowhere to run when you ran from yourself, and he was your only escape. 

     “You really have to treat yourself better, Y/N,” he lightly scolded you, softly pulling the duvet down to reveal your doleful face. “You look miserable, but I know you’re stronger than this.” 

     “I’m tired of always being strong,” you quietly admitted. “I can’t do it anymore.” 

     “Shut up for a moment,” Scaramouche said, though his tone held no malice. “You say that as if you have to suffer alone. Don’t forget you have me by your side. I may be an ass who doesn’t know much about comforting you, but I’m trying my damn best and I will never let you down. Now scoot over.” 

You did as he asked – or commanded – and made room for him to join you under the covers, like he always did when you were having a miserable day. He was cold, and his presence sent a chill down your spine. But it was a different kind of cold than the one that consumed you today, one that you grew to love. His inhuman form melted against you as he held you close, allowing you to snuggle up against him. Bad thoughts evaporated now that you had him near, his fingertips drawing circles on your back to distract you a little bit. You didn’t know what it was, but simply the idea of having him with you made you feel a lot better. Scaramouche wasn’t the nicest and warmest person, he could be quite harsh and blunt sometimes, but when he knew you needed him the most, he tried his very best to be your comfort. 

And it worked.

     “We’re going to make a plan for today, Y/N,” he started. “Staying in bed all day won’t help you.” 

     “Okay,” you muttered, playing absentmindedly with a strand of his violet hair. 

     “First, you’re going to try to eat a little,” Scaramouche began, still drawing little shapes on your back. “It doesn’t have to be much, just try it or I’ll have to force-feed you.” – you smiled a little, making a face at him – “Then we’re going out to do some grocery shopping and we’re going to treat you to something nice. As much as I hate to admit it, you know I can’t cook for shit so you’ll have to help me with that. Is that okay with you?” 

You nodded. As much as you didn’t feel like doing anything, the idea of doing things together with Scaramouche made it a little easier to find motivation. He was right; staying in bed all day wouldn’t make you feel any better. Going out with him would. So many times had that been proven. You knew it would do you good. The male knew very well what you needed in moments like these. Him. It was as if he possessed magic, motivating you when nothing else could. This guy singlehandedly pierced through your misery as if it were nothing. 

     “It’s time to get up, Y/N,” he announced. “Can you do that for me?” 

His cold fingers folded between yours as he got up and slowly helped you as well. You swung your feet over the edge of the mattress and rose, gaining a rare little smile from Scaramouche – one that made your heart swell with the smallest speck of joy. With your hand still in his, he guided you out of your room, away from your little pit of misery. 

He did it again.

[holylulusworld]

Before you (7)

Summary: King Steven Grant Rogers once was a good king and a gentle alpha. Now he’s a cruel shadow of his former self. Can he find the light again?

Pairing: King(Alpha)!Steve Rogers x Maid(Omega)!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Warnings: angst, language, softer Steve (he tries), Bucky is the best (soft Bucky is a warning, okay), mentions of loss of loved ones, undefined age gap, a hint of fluff, true mates, a/b/o, scenting, Steve is still a little possessive 

Before you masterlist

<< Part 6

“I want you to stay here,” Steve tries to keep his voice soft and even. “Please.”

“Steve, a word,” Bucky watches you hug yourself. You stand in the corner of Steve’s room, looking like a scared animal.

“I got no time, brother,” the king doesn’t want to leave your side. Now, that he finally has you back in his life, Steve cannot let go of you again. Ever.

“Brother,” his brother walks toward the king to cup the back of his neck. “I love you; you know that. But right now, I’m concerned about Y/N. You need to be more patient, and less aggressive. If you want her to trust you, give her room, and let the healer take care of her.”

Steve snarls. “I know what you are trying to do, brother,” the king puffs his chest and pushes against Bucky’s chest. “You can’t take her away from me. She’s my omega.”

“Steve, you may be the king, but you are acting like a feral animal. I will not let you hurt Y/N only as Peggy was a monster. This is not about her, this is all about you, and the hole in your chest you desperately try to fill.”

“Bucky,” Steve swallows thickly as you look at him, tears in your eyes. The king has the urge to bring you into his arms as his brother holds out his hand for you. “You can give her the chamber next to my private library. It’s not too far away.”

“Good,” Bucky gives his brother a curt nod. “I’ll make sure Y/N is safe. Samuel and Clint will guard the room.”

“You should bring her away from me,” the king whispers. “I don’t know for how long I can tame my alpha. You’re right. She’s scared of me, Bucky.”

Steve turns away from you, not wanting to witness your departure. He doesn’t know if you will ever open up to him. The girl he once knew seems to be long gone.

Just like the boy he used to be…

The king paces the throne room. He stops in his tracks and looks at the knights watching him with stoic faces before he starts pacing back and forth again.

“Do you think I should-“ he looks at one of the elder knights. “No. Forget it.”

It’s been two weeks since he last saw you. The healer reports on your health to the king daily, but he won’t tell Steve if you asked about him.

“Brother,” Bucky watches his brother with amusement. “Steve, you need to stop, or your boots will catch fire.”

“I need to,” Steve huffs. “No, I cannot ask her to join me for dinner. Maybe I should go to her. What do you think?”

“I had to beg her to stay here. The poor soul is afraid you’ll change your mind and punish her for speaking up.”

“She didn’t do anything to anger me, Bucky. If anything, she made my heart beat a little faster.” The king chuckles. “For a short moment, she reminded me of the wild girl she used to be.”

“Steve. Give her more time. A few days ago, you wanted her to leave your kingdom. She lost her family, home and I’m afraid, her hope too.”

“I must give her hope,” Steve concludes. “I just need to find out how to give someone hope. How can a man who lost all hope a long time ago give someone hope?”

“Be the man you should have been for all these years,” Bucky pats his brother’s shoulder. “If you can try to be a better man, king, and alpha for Y/N, she might find hope again.”

“Come in,” you softly say as someone knocks at your door.

Over the last few days, you got comfortable in the room the king offered to you.

It’s not a home, and will never be. But it’s warm and safer than the stables, or being on the run.

If you trust one soul in this world, it’s Bucky. He’s a good man and would never hurt you.

Unlike the king who still scares you.

He can’t be Grant. There is no way the gentle and kind boy turned into this person.

“Y/N, omega,” you immediately take a step back as the king enters your chamber, not Bucky, or the healer you got to know better over the weeks Steve left you alone. “I wanted to see if you are better.”

“I-“ dropping your eyes to the ground you nod. “Thank you, my king. I’m honored.”

“No—no,” he runs one hand down his face. “I’m not the king, my love. Please, let me show you that I’m still your Grant, the boy you let into your heart.”

You look at the king, eyes wide and fearful once again. He sighs as you drop your gaze only moments later.

Taking a deep breath you muster all the strength left in you to talk to the king.

“The queen’s horse, when did you get it from my father?”

“Long before I had to marry her. I imagined we ride together again one day,” he whispers. “She didn’t give it a name.”

“Beleza,“ you mumble. “That was the name I gave her when she was a foal. I was so sad when my father told me he sold the mare.”

“Beleza,” the king repeats. “A beautiful name, Y/N.” He carefully takes a few steps toward you. “Do you want to see the horse? Maybe it remembers you.”

“I spend many nights at the stable and didn’t recognize her,” you sniffle. “How could I not see that it was Beleza? She’s the only survivor.”

“No, she’s not,” he closes the distance between the two of you to bring you into his arms. “You’re here. Peggy didn’t win. She failed.“

“The queen?“ you close your eyes and allow yourself to inhale his scent. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Steve lies. He cannot tell you about the queen’s betrayal. Not yet. If he does, he’ll lose you forever. “Do you want to see Beleza? We can go to the stables. I got time.”

He runs his hands up and down your back, purring low in his throat as you make a soft noise. “I’d like to see her.”

“That’s Amis,“ Steve points at his horse. “A strong horse. He once saved my life. I got heavily injured, but Amis found his way home.”

“Amis,“ you gently run your hand over the stallion’s back. “Strong, and majestic. He’s worthy of being a king’s horse.”

Steve watches you talk to the horse. His heart beats a little faster as you whisper something in the horse’s ear. “I hope to be worthy of being his rider.”

“You’re a king,” you remind him.

“Being a king doesn’t mean I’m worthy,” he stands behind you to sniff at your neck. “I think that I lost the right to call myself a king since my queen died. Maybe even for a longer time.”

You wrap your arms around the stallion’s neck, sighing as the familiar scent of horses and straw fills your nostrils.

“You lost your way, your majesty. Maybe your brother can help you find it.”

“Bucky tried. The Lord knows he tried so hard to tell me Peggy is not a good wife. I almost abandoned him,” he admits. “He’s my brother, and I turned my back on him. How could I?”

You’re not sure if you can tell the king what you think about him, and his behavior. You are still scared of the alpha.

He can change his mind at any time and throw you into the dungeon.

“It’s not my place, my king,” you lower your eyes as Steve moves to your side to watch you. “You’re a king. I’m a peasant.”

“You’re my true mate, my love,” he corrects. Steve can see the fear in your eyes return. “You should greet Beleza now. She’s waiting for you. I’ll be outside, Y/N.”

“Thank you, my king.”

“You showed her the horses, that’s good,” Bucky watches his brother bury his nose in a book. “What else did you do?”

“I walked her back to her chamber, and wished her a good night,” Steve looks up from his book. “I followed your advice. Y/N is scared and vulnerable. I need to take things slow.”

“It must be hard not getting what you want, your majesty,” grinning Bucky closes his book. “She will make sure you court for her like an alpha, and a king should.”

“Y/N is worth it. I will try my best to become the alpha man she deserves.”

“Well then, brother. I’ll help you…”

Before you (8)

More tags in reblog.

Before you

@sebsgirl71479​, @rosemirrors, @patzammit​, @stoneyggirl​, @openup-yourmind​

[moonfairywritings]

Nessa x Mer!Reader

Franchise: Pokémon

Genre: One-shot; friends to lovers

Trigger warnings: None

Proofread, but I'm stupid, so I might have missed something. Sorry T~T

A/n: A little something I've been wanting to do for a while. Happy (extremely) belated Mermay!

"Dreadnaw, use Rock Tomb!" Nessa commanded the Pokémon before her. Dreadnaw obeyed the order immediately and let out an angry cry as it kicked up rocks and sent them flying towards the Appletun on the other side of the field.

"You're doing great, Appletun! Now use Solar Beam!"

As usual, Milo was beating Nessa into the dirt. Her eyes widened as the Pokémon began to gather light fueled by the sun that had been previously set up by Milo's Eldegoss. Dreadnaw was weakened, and she had no more team members that could fight, but there was no way she was going to give up. Her honor and dignity as a gym leader was at stake.

"You can do it, just hang in there, Dreadnaw!" She encouraged. "Take it head on then make a comeback with Aqua Tail!"

Dreadnaw grunted in agreement. Nessa could see it physically tense up, waiting for the Solar Beam to hit.

"No-!"

Nessa watched in anguish as her ace yelled out in pain as the blinding light made contact. The crowd was going wild, people were screaming, cheering, chanting for both Nessa and Milo.

Please make it, please, please make it.

The light began to settle as Appletun's attack finished. Nessa squinted over the dust that had been kicked up to see the state of her Dreadnaw. The announcer's voice blared over the intercom before she even had a chance to react.

"-and it looks like Dreadnaw is unable to fight, which means Milo is the winner once again!"

Once the initial shock was over, Nessa ran over to Dreadnaw and knelt down beside it.

"I'm so sorry buddy, I shouldn't have..." She sighed, pulling out her Pokéball. "You did amazing."

*•.¸❀

Interviewers crowded the lobby of the Turffield gym, making it hard for Nessa to escape the locker room.

"Who designed this place? Since when do locker rooms not have a back exit? God." Nessa muttered to herself as she swiftly dodged the camera crew and news reporters before being spotted. At least she had practice escaping paparazzi. Lots of practice. She successfully exited the building when she heard a voice call out to her.

"That was a great match, Nessa! You and your team make one heck of an opponent."

Nessa turned around to see Milo smiling at her cheerfully. Win or lose, he always had something to be optimistic about. Sometimes Nessa wished she had that superpower.

"Y-yeah, thanks." She answered, awkwardly tugging at her sunglasses. "I'm kind of in a hurry, so..."

"Oh, no worries." Milo assured her. "I know you're a busy person. Keeping up with your gym, modeling. Anyways, I'll see you around!"

"Mhm. See you." With a curt nod, she briskly picked up her pace. She wanted to get as far away from the stadium as possible. "Next time, we're going to win. And I mean it. I'm supposed to be a gym leader, I'm not going to be able to keep my position if I let type disadvantages be such a huge roadblock."

Saying Nessa is a competitive person would be an understatement. What's the point of trying anything if you don't win? She was going to get stronger. She had to get stronger.

*•.¸❀

Hours had passed since her loss to Milo. Hours upon hours of training and Nessa still didn't feel like they had accomplished anything. Despite this, she and her team were exhausted, and she decided to quit for the day. She collapsed into the grass with a heavy sigh and looked up at the sky, now an orange-pink as the sun began to set.

"Draaaaw..."

Dreadnaw lightly headbutted the side of Nessa's head, a look of concern on its face. Nessa smiled tiredly and reached up to stroke its cheek.

"You did great today. Why don't we go for a quick swim before heading home?"

Nessa stood up and brushed the grass from her clothing and walked down the grassy slope towards a small lake on the outskirts of the wild area. The water glistened beautifully underneath the setting sun, and Nessa felt the tension in her body melt away just by looking at it. Upon reaching the lake, she removed her sandals and slowly waded into the water, while Dreadnaw loudly ran into the water and began splashing around excitedly. Nessa closed her eyes and inhaled, taking in the fresh scents of lush water plants.

"Naw!"

"Huh?" Nessa opened her eyes and turned her attention back towards Dreadnaw, who was staring intently at a bushy area of horsetails near the edge. The water was rippling as if something had made a quick dive beneath the surface. Deciding to investigate, she made her way towards the source of the splash, expecting it to be a fish Pokémon of some sorts.

"I don't see anything. It was probably just a Feebas or someth- AH!"

"Hmhmhmm~"

From within the horsetails, something had splashed water into Nessa's eyes, a sharp giggle coming right after. Nessa wiped the water from her eyes, and stared in disbelief at the culprit.

"What... You're a..."

With only their head and the tip of their tail emerging from the water, a person with the tail of a fish looked up at Nessa with mischief dancing in their eyes. The way their scales shimmered in the sunlight made it hard for Nessa not to reach out and touch them. After staring at them for what felt like hours, trying to discern if this was all real or not, Nessa cautiously reached out her hand towards the Merperson, but their eyes widened at the sudden close contact and they quickly retreated into the safety of the water.

"No, wait!" Nessa yelled out. "I wasn't going to-" the ripples in the water settled, and there was no sign of them. "They're gone..."

Nessa left the water, still in shock from what she had seen. She had come face-to-face with a real Merperson, like something out of a fairytale. She decided right then and there that she would befriend them, and that she would keep this a secret, even from Sonia. Who knew what would happen if word got out about the existence of Merpeople.

Even if they weren't friends yet, Nessa vowed to protect them at all costs.

*•.¸❀

Nessa woke up bright and early the next morning and headed straight towards the bakery. Before heading to the gym, she planned on getting her soon-to-be friend a pastry as an ice breaker. She stood in front of the glass case looking at all of the warm, freshly baked pastries.

"What would Merpeople even eat?" She mused.

"What was that, Miss?" Asked the baker behind the counter.

"O-oh! Nothing, sorry." Nessa replied, silently cursing herself for speaking out loud. "Um, I'll take two raspberry danishes, please."

After paying for the pastries, she left the bakery and made her way back towards the lake where she met the Merperson. Her thoughts began to wander back to the playful look in their eyes that sparkled like the water, their wet hair clinging to their forhead, and the sound of their voice after they had splashed her. It was all so enchanting. Nessa hadn't realized how long she had been walking until she heard a voice coming from the lake.

"Your face is all red."

Nessa snapped out of her daydream and looked towards the source of the voice. There in the lake, propped up against a large rock was the Merperson, staring at her with an amused smile tugging at their lips. She touched her cheek and discovered that her face was not only red, but hot.

"Oh, um, I must have gotten a sunburn." She said sheepishly.

"Mhm, sure." The Merperson replied. They pushed themselves from the rock out towards the center of the lake, floating on their back. "So why'd you come back? To oggle the fish person, I presume?"

"Oggle? No, I, well. I brought you something." Nessa held out the bag for them to see.

"A bag? Just what I've always wanted!" They said sarcastically, splashing water into the air in mock excitement.

Nessa laughed. "No, I mean I brought you something in the bag. A raspberry danish." She pulled one of the pastries out of the bag and went to sit on the edge of the lake.

"A raspberry what?" They swam over to where Nessa had sat herself on the grassy bank. "Mm, it smells good."

Nessa handed it out to them. "Here, try it."

The Merperson looked inspected it for a moment before reaching out a hand to grab it, but before they did, they grabbed a fistful of Nessa's shirt and quickly wiped their hands on it before taking the pastry.

"Hey! What was that for?!" Nessa exclaimed. "Now my shirt is soaking!"

They shrugged. "Oh, I'm sorry. I figured you were supposed to eat this dry, but I guess it needs to be dipped in lake water first."

"You're kind of a piece of work, aren't you?" Nessa said as she wrung out her shirt.

The Merperson giggled in reply and took a bite of the danish. "Hey, this is actually pretty good."

Nessa smiled. "I'm glad you like it." Her phone vibrated in her pocket, which made the Merperson perk their head up in interest.

"What was that noise?"

"Oh, just my phone." Nessa answered.

"Phone? What's that?" They asked curiously.

"It's- shoot. I have to get to the gym."

"Gym?'

"Yeah." Nessa stood up and put her phone back in her pocket. "I have to go. But real quick... Can I get your name? Mine's Nessa."

"Nessa..." They repeated. "My name's [Y/N]."

"I like it. It's pretty." Nessa said with a smile.

[Y/N] swam over to the edge. They seemed... Down. "Nessa? Will you... Will you come see me again? It gets lonely out here."

Nessa crouched down by the edge. "Of course, I promise I'll come back every day." Without thinking, she brushed the bangs out of their eyes, causing their cheeks to flush a faint pink. Nessa's hand lingered on their cheek for a second too long as she looked into their eyes. Their beautiful eyes... "Um, anyways, I'll see you later, [Y/N]." Nessa backed away from the bank, and gave them a wave before hurrying away, trying in vain to keep her face from lighting up any more than it already was.

"Bye, Nessa." They called from behind her.

For some reason, those parting words seemed to vibrate in the back of her skull. They had such a nice voice. Nice eyes, nice hair, a nice smile.

Nessa felt lighter and giddier that day than she had in ages. She had difficulty focusing on her work, which concerned some people, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting to see them again.

*•.¸❀

A few months had passed since Nessa and [Y/N]'s first meeting. The first few weeks consisted of Nessa bringing them food offerings, or else they would just sit there, arms crossed and pouty, and pretend she wasn't there. It was a little aggravating, but soon the Merperson became accustomed to Nessa's presence, and "offerings" were no longer necessary.

"Have you beaten him yet?" [Y/N] asked. They were sitting on the edge of the bank beside Nessa, with only the tip of their tail in the water. Nessa sighed in response, her furrowed brow giving an amused [Y/N] their answer.

"No..." The young woman replied, glancing away out of embarrassment. [Y/N] only laughed in response.

"Aww, are those cute little plants giving you trouble~?" [Y/N] playfully poked Nessa's nose, laughing even harder at her surprised and bashful expression.

"H-Hey, it's not funny!" Nessa half heartedly swatted [Y/N]'s hand away and adjusted the denim cap she was wearing. "Even with my team knowing practically every ice type move under the sun, it feels like he's just this indestructible wall. It's so frustrating." She glanced over at [Y/N], whose usual mocking expression was gone, and instead was replaced with one of sympathy.

"Well, regardless, I wish I could see one of your matches." [Y/N] looked off into the distance. There was an uncharacteristic sadness in their eyes that made Nessa's heart crack.

"I wish you could too." She said quietly. There was a moment of silence, before [Y/N] spoke up.

"Um, Nessa?" They said quietly.

"What's wrong?" There was a bit of worry in her voice. The Merperson was never this... vulnerable.

"Do you... enjoy coming to visit me? Aren't I boring? I can't exactly leave..."

"Of- of course I do!" Nessa assured. "I've come to visit you every day, haven't I? Just like I promised." She gave [Y/N] a reassuring smile and laid her hand atop theirs. The softness of their hand was almost distracting, she kind of wished she could run her fingers over their silky smooth skin for hours.

"Yeah, you have." [Y/N] exhaled, letting out a bunch of tension they didn't know they were holding in. "Just like you promised." They scooted closer to Nessa, and rested their head on her shoulder.

Nessa's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Her eyes wide, she looked down at their ethereal figure. They looked so calm, so at peace. The fact that they trusted her enough to be this close filled her with a warmth she had never felt before, and one she wanted to preserve for as long as possible. She intertwined her fingers with theirs, and gently kissed their forehead.

"And I'll continue to keep that promise. Because... because you're the most precious thing in the world to me."

[desolateddreamur]

Following Your Advice

Kyle x Mute!Phone addict!reader

Story: (Phone Destroyer timeline) Kyle encourages you to take a break from your phone so you offer to have lunch together.

Gender neutral reader!

Requested? No!

TW: None! Literally so wholesome

Note: please like or reblog I spent four hours trying to figure out how to format the texting identical to Phone Destroyers on my phone through Ibis after I broke my fucking tablet, please I beg of you.

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Your phone rang softly, carrying the small jingle you used to associate with Kyle. In an instant you double-tapped the notification that was pulled down by the call. The game was far less important than calling or texting the Jewish boy you craved the love of. The one you'd do anything for.

You clicked accept on the FaceTime.

"Hey! Y/n, it's me. Listen!"

Beads of sweat- a result of the wild adventure he was just on, stuck to his forehead, causing stray strands of red curls to cling to his freckled skin. His eyes were frantically checking around for anyone listening and held an abundance concern. You cock your head to the side, giving a curt hum to tell him to talk.

While you did lack a voice, you were never jealous of his. It was far too beautiful to envy in your eyes.

"Don't you see what's going on here? You're being used!"

He gestures wildly with an empty gloved hand, making you want to be there to grab it and hold it in your own. Nonetheless, you encourage him to go on.

"Just... maybe you shouldn't be on your phone as much, you know?"

He pauses, thinking over some examples.

"Like, go have lunch with somebody, or..." Kyle rubs the nape of his neck, "Or I dunno, read a book."

He gave a sigh, finally jumping to the point and no longer beating around the bush. "Playing this stupid game is going to end up really bad for the..."

"Kyle, who are you talking to?" Cartman calls over from off camera, interrupting him.

Kyle inhaled sharply, "Nobody!" He yelled over, hanging up quickly.

You were left to process what had just gone down. You? Get a break from your phone? Your communicator?

You go open the green icon labeled as Message, clicking his profile. If anyone else asked you probably would've sent enough insults to fill a thesis to them. But it was Kyle; you just couldn't bring yourself to. He was the only one that bothered to learn sign language to talk to you.

Knowing he couldn't call back with Cartman there, you sent a text.

You sped to your closet and threw on some random cute outfit. Throwing on your shoes, you grabbed the letterman bag that held most of your items and shot out the front door. Excitement glimmered in your eyes as they kept watch of your phone screen.

Currently, you were looking over Pinterest on what you could make at his place for a cute indoor lunch date.

Placing your phone into your bag, you climb his front steps and quickly fix up your h/l hair from your run. When you knocked, some clambering was heard and you winced when something fell with a thick thud.

The door opened to show a frazzled Kyle, hat halfway on his head and a dopey grin on his face.

"C'mon on in, Y/n! I just setup the living room. I hope I didn't go too over the top?"

He steps aside and you walk in. With his living room right at the front door, you smiled widely. He had moved the coffee table to the side and set up a picnic blanket in front of the TV, a little assortment of electric candles on a flat board in the middle. The TV itself was playing some footage of a beach (Bonus being he had surround sound).

You set your bag down on the blanket and pulled Kyle into a tight hug by the hips. He tensed before setting his arms around your neck. Letting go and leaning back with his support, you began to sign to him.

'Did you really do all this for us?'

He let go as well and took your hand, guiding you to the kitchen as he spoke.

"Well.. Yeah. I mean- you're getting off your phone to spend time with me... And you never to that for anyone!"

He lets go and helps you gather up ingredients. When he turns to see if you signed a response, he froze. You were awfully close to his face with your own. A dreamy look hung in your half-lidded eyes before he got the memo and moved on his own.

One hand slipped behind your head and the other to your waist. Your own moved to loop around his neck as your chests press together, increasing your closeness.

You finally pushed forward the rest of the way, pressing him into a short kiss. You pulled away before he could kiss back and moved your hands to sign to him,

'You taste like peppermint'

His face flushed all the way to his ears and he laughed, "Well, you taste like watermelon! Can I... Can I have another?"

You deadpan, looking into his green eyes before pulling back into another kiss.

There was no lunch date after this happened. You both ended up ordered some takeout and spent the time kissing over and over in his kitchen.

[stardancerluv]

13 years and the Band Played

Part One

Summary: Curt is on tv…

Note: Sequel to One Night, Ten Years. Curt is married and a daddy. Not sure how long this will be. Had a sudden inspiration. Had a blast making that collage.

The audience went wild. Curt’s smile was bright and across his face. He waved to the cheers.

Your babygirl cooed and made a soft sound, you turned your attention to her. You watched as she rubbed one of sleep heavy eyes. Blinking up at you before giving you a sleepy smile.

“Hi baby girl.” You said softly.

She looked around confused. The three of you had packed into a plane real quick back home on the east coast and flew out to California before the ink was dry.

“Its ok princess.” You assured her.

“So Curt the rumors have been flying all around. Is there anything, you can confirm for us tonight?”

You turned in time to see the camera zoom in on his mischievous filled blue eyes. A smirk curled his lips.

“There’s rumors?” You loved the ease in which he played with Craig. He cheekily chuckled.

Being clean for quite a few years now, he had a command, that his old days didn’t have.

Hearing daddy’s voice your little girl sat up. And pointed at the tv. “Dadda…dadda.” She cooed sticking her other finger in her mouth as she looked between you and the tv as if to be contemplating why her daddy was on the screen in front of the two of you.

“Yes, sweetheart there’s daddy.” You beamed. You were so excited for the reunion tour. It would be a delight for him and the band.

“We have heard,” Craig looked out into the audience then back at Curt. “That we may see more of this in the next few months.”

They was a cut to one of the concerts. Your heart still skipped a beat seeing Curt’s slender body move and twist as his lyrics poured from his mouth.

They cut back to Craig, “So will we be seeing more of that?”

The audience went wild.

Curt let then carry on for a beat. It was always good to feed on the excitement. At least that is always what he had told you. He had certainly been drawn in by her excitement all those years ago.

“Yes, you will.” He finally said.

@johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @unfilteredmoonchild @blondekel77 @dogmatic255 @bdffkierenwalker

[littleoddwriter]

Restrained | Curt Wild x GenderNeutral!Reader | Smut

"Hi! Would you be okay with writing a sub/dom with curt wild x reader. I love how you write. Have a good day!  {Also curt being dom if that's alright. If you don't want to write it i totally get it}" anon

summary; Pure Dom/Sub smut with Curt, where you are handcuffed to the bed.

notes; KINKS: Dom/Sub; BDSM; Restraints (Padded leather handcuffs); Begging; Collars; Penetrative Sex; Safe, Sane and Consensual; but unsafe sex, as in no condoms; Safewords. GenderNeutral!Reader; PWP; Smut; Lemon; some fluffy aftercare and declarations of love. Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

Coming up behind you, Curt wrapped one of his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his front. In his free hand, he held your collar which he dangled in front of your face. You swallowed thickly, a jolt of arousal shooting through you and making you shudder in his grasp.

"Okay?" he asked, kissing your neck gently.

"Yes, sir," you whispered.

He let go of your waist and used both of his hands to place the collar around you neck, fastening it in the back. It made your breath stutter with how much you loved the feel of it on your skin.

After that he made you turn around and embraced you once more, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss that got a little more heated quickly. You opened your mouth for him obediently, as he pushed in his tongue, playing with yours. In the back of your throat, you moaned, gripping onto his bare back, digging your fingernails into his flesh. He was only wearing his leather pants, which he used to wear for concerts.

While you were making out with each other, he stirred you towards the bedroom. Naturally, you stumbled a little because neither of you were really looking and you were walking backwards, but somehow you made it to your bed, the edge of it hitting the back of your knees when you did. With a gentle push from Curt, you lay down on the mattress, scooting up to the pillows. He put his hands and knees on the bed and crawled over to you, pushing your legs up on his thighs, spreading them.

"Safeword, baby?" Curt asked you, his voice already husky with the clear arousal, which was also palpable through both of your pants, against your ass.

"Flower, like always," you confirmed, "sir."

He smiled and leaned his head down to resume kissing you, open-mouthed and full of heat.

After a few more minutes of making out and grinding against each other, moaning and groaning lewdly, he broke the kiss. "I wanna bind your wrists to the headboard. Alright?"

Enthusiastically, you nodded. "Yes, sir, please!"

He helped you out of your shirt and then positioned each of your hands against one corner of the mattress. Then he leaned over to one of the bedside tables and retrieved the padded leather handcuffs. Curt fastened each of them around your wrists and the headboard, effectively tying you to it and restricting you.

"Thank you, sir," you rasped, testing the bindings just to feel the pull of it, they were always perfect after all, you had no actual reason to test them.

Curt smiled again and leaned back and over to get the lube from the bedside table. Then he pulled off your pants and underwear, revealing your bare lower body to the warm air of the bedroom. He ran his hands over your thighs, rubbing up and down and squeezing the flesh, as you shivered and moaned in response. You were so fucking excited, you wanted him inside of you immediately.

"Curt, sir, please!" you whimpered, bucking your hips desperately.

Smirking, he removed himself from you entirely. His body warmth's absence hit you immediately, making you shiver. Curt watched you, while he got up and out of his pants, having gone commando like always. When he stayed at a distance from you, you started pouting, pulling at your restraints reflexively because you wanted to reach out to him.

"Is my baby needy? Hm? You want my fucking cock so badly inside of you, don't you?"

"Yes, please, sir! Please! I want- need it so badly, please!" you whined, pulling harder at your restraints, the padded leather biting your skin a little at the angle, but it felt good.

Grinning, he shuffled back over to you, spreading your legs wide, kneeling between them. "Hmmm, alright. With how nicely you're begging me, I just have to give you what you want, huh? 'Cause you're so good for me, aren't you, baby?"

"Yes! Please, sir, I'm so good for you, please, please, please!" You were bucking your hips desperately again, trying to get him to finally move and shove his fingers inside of you to prepare you.

Chuckling lightly, he finally grabbed the lube again and squirted it onto his fingers. Then he pushed in his slicked up index finger into you, pumping it in and out of you, until your relaxed enough for him to put in a second, and eventually a third finger. Then he lubed up his hard cock and pushed inside of you, making both of you moan. He built up a hard, fast pace, thrusting in and out of you quickly, snapping his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin was deafening to you. You moaned loudly, your voice hoarse and broken already.

Your desire to dig your nails into his back and leave marks on him was so strong, you kept pulling on them hard, while also straining against them whenever Curt hit that sweet spot inside of you that made your back arch and a loud moan break free from you. Curt groaned, shoving inside of you particularly hard, which almost made you come on the spot, but it wasn't enough to truly push you over the edge yet.

"Fuck, please, make me come, please, sir!" you begged him, so desperate to find your release.

Without another word, Curt rubbed you off, while he kept thrusting inside of you hard, making the both of you orgasm almost simultaneously a few moments later. You twitched, moaned and groaned, while he pulsed inside of you, filling you with his come.

After he caught his breath a little, Curt pulled out of you and unfastened the handcuffs. Your arms were completely limp, your shoulders stiff and you groaned, fucked out. He lay down beside you and rubbed both of your wrists in his hands, gently showering them in kisses.

Sleepily, you smiled. "Thank you," you murmured.

Smiling he leaned over to you and kissed you on the lips a few times. When he broke the kiss, the two of you cuddled into each other, both exhausted and sleepy.

"I love you, Y/N," Curt mumbled, almost asleep, but smiling so softly.

"And I love you, Curt, so much."

[damnedparker]

she's the prettiest girl at the party, and she can prove it with a solid right hook

pairing: tasm (andrew garfield) peter parker x reader (gender neutral; no y/n. i know the title uses she/her pronouns but it's just for the title lol. from this song. actual fic has no pronouns or any gendered terms!) warnings: big warning for a creepy man. being spit on. nothing too graphic. you stand up for yourself. swearing. i think that's it. let me know if i missed anything. summary: this is the absolute last time you'll ever go to a party.

Another groan left your lips when you checked your phone for about the thousandth time since you had walked through the door of this crowded, sweaty apartment. You hated parties. Especially when you were by yourself. Usually, you would deny the invitation the same day you received one, but your friend was graduating, and you figured you would feel even worse than you did at the present time if you didn’t at least come to say hello. And, in said situation where you had to go, you would most definitely convince someone to go along with you, but you tried multiple friends, and pestered Peter a million times about it.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out, and you were now standing in the corner, hiding yourself by the stairs with a sad, flat cup of soda in your hand.

It’s not like Peter had said no out of a personal preference, crime had been wild lately and he had been chasing a lead on some new science experiment gone wrong tonight. He said he would try and show up, but you knew how he kept his Spider-Man hours too well to have much hope it would pan out. You didn’t blame him, never could for the amount of care he gives people so selflessly, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him desperately.

If Peter were here, he’d be murmuring dumb little jokes in your ear, arm slung over your shoulders. He’d people watch with you, making up stupid voices and filling in imaginary dialogue just to get even the smallest of laughs out of you. And his presence alone would have probably run off the guy that had been making eyes at you from across the room for ten minutes now. But, alas, you were alone at a party in the corner, so that meant you were free meat to any drunk buffoon who happened to see you.

And oh no, this buffoon was making a beeline for you.

“Need a refill?” Mr. Buffoon asked, a drunk grin spreading across his face. You gave the politest smile you could muster, bordering on grimace, and added a curt no before trying to slip away. He managed to catch your wrist before you could leave. And now you very much realized you would feel less bad than you do now if you had simply disappointed your friend and not showed up. “So, what’s a lovely little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“Avoiding people.” You let out bluntly. The guy just laughed, bumping into you like he was some kind of friend. You frowned when sticky drops of whatever concoction he was chugging flicked across your arm at his movements.

“Lone wolf, huh? You’re lucky, that’s just my type.”

“Oh, I’m the luckiest person in the world.” You raised your eyebrows, sarcasm smothering your tone. You took a sip of your sad drink. Might as well add to your misery.

Buffoon continued to drag on and on, pushing shitty compliments and flirts your way every so often. Every time you tried to turn and leave he’d reach out and grab your wrist, tighter and tighter, to pull you back. It was annoying how helpless you felt. You hadn’t said anything the whole time aside from when he first walked up. He must have been either completely wasted or totally socially unaware (likely both), because nothing seemed to give him a clue that you would rather be anywhere else right now.

Finally, after another five minutes of droning on with his slimy hand gripping far too snugly on your wrist, the other touching far too close to your ass, you had enough. Before you knew it, the rest of your flat, depressing soda was dripping from his face as you seethed out the words you had wanted to say since the second he laid his cold eyes on you.

“Buzz off, asshat, I’m not going to fuck you.” He seemed shocked, somehow, despite the rest of the red flags you were waving directly in his face. Then his expression turned something a lot more frightening.

“Bitch.” Was apparently the only thing he could think of next.

And then: spit. Right in your face.

Then he was on the floor.

Your chest heaved with anger at what he had just done, the new pain in your right hand burning with just the same fire. You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, then felt your body get jerked, head smacking into the side of the banister. That asshole had the nerve to lay his hands on you again.

This time, his nose made a crack. You only felt a little bad, quickly escaping to the kitchen before he could follow.

You sucked in air through your teeth at the dull pain in your head, contrasting the searing pain in your knuckles. Again, you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as you leaned forward, hands on the counter to steady yourself. Adrenaline coursed through your veins. Your hands were trembling. You weren’t scared, or even regretful, in fact you felt justified, but the whole experience had sure struck a nerve.

A few minutes later, you had managed to calm yourself down enough to feel mildly normal again. And then fingertips brushed your waist, someone starting a greeting. They never got to finish before your already sore fist met their face, square in the nose. Your eyes widened as you fully comprehended who it was, beginning to frantically apologize. Peter squeezed his eyes shut in pain, waving you off.

"I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that, it's my bad..." He trailed off, taking in the sight of your already bruising knuckles as you covered your mouth in shock, as well as the red fingerprints painting your wrist and the small cut on your temple. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, the way he set his jaw, beginning to fill in the gaps in his head. You moved towards him calmly.

"Peter," you took his face in your hands, partially to calm him down, partially to make sure he didn't go anywhere. "I am completely and totally okay. I just... got into a little fight."

"Little? You're hurt." He worried. His eyebrows pulled together, a frown tugged at his lips. One that was far too cute for how seriously concerned he was.

"You should see the other guy." You chuckled. Peter's serious expression didn't change.

"Maybe I will."

"Peter," you said his name, sternly this time, in an effort to push away whatever vaguely threatening thoughts were swimming in his head. "I can take care of myself. I mean, I already did. Pretty sure I broke the guy's nose." Your boyfriend cocked an eyebrow at you, half proud and half not quite sure he heard you right. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. "I may have done the same to you." You mumbled, reaching for the paper towels nearby when crimson began running down his upper lip. You tilted his head back, helping to clean him up.

"I'm a broken nose veteran, and I can tell you my nose is definitely still intact. You just gave me a little nosebleed, no biggie," He squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, leaning against the counter with his head still back. "What happened, baby?"

"Well... someone may or may not have been trying to flirt with me a little too... physically... and so I told him off a little harshly because it had been going on for like twenty minutes... and then he may have... spit on me," you could feel the frustration radiating off of Peter as soon as you said the last part. You scooted closer to him, hopping up on the counter to wrap an arm around his middle. Your chin came to rest on his shoulder. "Before I knew what happened I just swung. Hit him right in the nose. He pushed me into the stairs so I hit him again, then he started crying, like a little kid. I almost felt bad for a second. After that, he just ran off."

"Jesus," was all Peter said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just a little shaken up,” you shrugged, rubbing his back and enjoying the feel of his warmth against you. It was grounding. "I'm really happy to see you."

"I would say the same if I could properly see past my stupid nose," he referred to the way his head was still tilted back. His eyes strained to look at you. You smiled at his genuine frustration, kneeling on the counter so you were hovering over his face. You gave him a quick peck on the lips, then the cheek. He let out a laugh while he slowly moved his head back down to a natural position. A few sniffles later, after confirming there was no more blood, he sent you a soft smile, one that was laced with pride.

"I'm sorry I punched you."

"Don't worry about it, babe," he shook his head. "It was kind of hot."

"I don't know if I should be flattered or concerned."

"You should definitely be flattered, I get punched a lot and it's never had that effect on me." He let one of those signature Peter grins take over his face, one that made you feel like you were floating in the clouds. "Now, let me see that right hook, Rocky." Your boyfriend pushed himself from the counter. He nudged your legs open so he could stand between them to examine your wounds.

"I'm fine--" You cut yourself off with a hiss when he gently prodded at your bruising knuckles. He gave you an apologetic look before reaching over to an ice chest that was nestled nearby with the party's supply of drinks. He made you a makeshift ice pack with some of the cubes, wrapped in a kitchen towel that he'd judged as mostly clean. The ice soothed your aching joints almost immediately.

Peter moved on to the cut on your head, courtesy of the banister of the stairs that you had made contact with. His fingers were ever so soft in their movements, whispers of touches, for fear of causing you more pain. You had to admit, your head was throbbing a bit from the injury, but not enough to be concerning to you.

"Hold on," his tongue peeked out of his lips as he dug in his pocket for something. Eventually, he retrieved an only slightly crumpled, but still packaged Hello Kitty band-aid with a small aha! "There we go," he murmured as he smoothed it over the cut, sealing the care with a gentle kiss. "All better."

"Thanks, bug," you murmured. He just shrugged, almost sheepishly.

"I don't like that you're hurt, but it does feel good to pay you back for always taking care of me when I'm all beat up," he sighed. He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in closer. "I'm glad you're okay. And that you gave that guy what he deserved, for the record." The pride swelled in his chest as he looked at you with wide, eager eyes. Peter adored that you weren’t afraid to stand up to yourself, and, sure, maybe delighted a little too much in the image conjured up in his mind of the man who’d essentially assaulted you in the hospital. He wasn’t normally so violent minded, but he had little sympathy for some asshole who didn’t respect personal boundaries. And that’s something he’s not ever going to feel bad about.

Peter hooked his hands around your knees to pull you forward, closer to him. He carefully placed little kisses in a trail from your collarbone up to your cheek. You preened under the affection, leaning gratefully into his warmth. You settled your arms at his shoulders, splaying your fingers into the soft brunette tufts at the nape of his neck.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as he pressed his cheek to yours. You were warm all over, feeling dazed at his closeness. “Can we go home? I need some alone time with you.” He mumbled, asking shyly much like when he had first asked you out; what seemed like forever ago. Coming from anyone else, the statement would be inherently sexual, but you knew Peter just really wanted to have some time where he could indulge in your affections before falling asleep. The exhaustion in both his posture and his voice clued you in to the fact that he’d clearly had a rough night as his alter-ego, even if it had been short. You smiled, pushing him away enough to hop down from the counter. The two of you quickly made your way to the door, avoiding contact with the other people still partying so you wouldn’t get stuck in a conversation.

Across the hall, down the stairs, out into the biting New York winter air. You shivered, goosebumps finding their way out of your skin on your exposed neck. You helplessly tugged your sleeves over your hands in a pointless attempt for warmth. It hadn't seemed nearly as cold when you’d walked over, and the temperature wasn’t predicted to drop that much...

Shit.

“Wait, Pete, I forgot my jacket.” You stopped in your tracks, Peter dramatically getting yanked back as he tried to keep moving. He noticed the way you were hugging yourself with your free arm. His eyes softened as he moved towards you.

“I’ll text ‘em tomorrow, I’m sure you can pick it up later,” he reassured you, clearly not wanting to go back to the party. You didn’t want to either, quickly conceding to Peter’s suggestion. He moved closer to hug you, wrapping the edges of his well-loved long duster jacket around you with his arms so you were both enveloped in warmth. Even more heat pooled in your stomach at the romantic gesture. Peter was no stranger to ooey-gooey actions like this, although he consistently claimed he was bad at it, and each time it melted your heart. He was so sincere, so genuine with his love sometimes you didn’t know what to do with yourself. “You’re cold.”

“Not anymore,” you mumbled. A sudden shy feeling fell over you, which could have made you laugh at the fact that not even an hour ago you had knocked some guy in the face without hesitation. Your boyfriend pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, nose, and forehead. That Peter Parker smile graced his stupid, perfect face once again.

“Here,” he stepped back from you briefly. An unwelcome rush of cold hit you at the lack of warmth. Peter slipped off his well-loved green army jacket off from under his coat. You let him tug it over your shoulders, so you were snug, enveloped in more protection from the cold and the scent of his cologne that was clinging to the familiar article of clothing. “C’mon, we can make the subway, it’ll be faster.” He tilted his head in that direction, leading you to follow close beside him. The way Peter slid his hand into your back pocket to keep you pressed into his side as you traversed towards the subway was more than enough to keep you from turning blue by the time you made it to the train. In fact, it turned you more pink in the face than anything.

[jedifarmerr]

When Javier Met... (Series)

Pairing: Javier x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical description)

Rating: E (18+ Blog)

Word Count: little under 3k.

Warnings: language, angst?, hurt feelings?

Series Masterlist

Chapter 10: Monsoon Season

“Where’re you going?”

It was impossible to tease apart the entanglement of disappointment and confusion tainting your voice – a sound so devastating that his blood ran cold.

Sharply turning on the creased back of his shoe, Javier met your blink-wide stare. Your grip tightened on the robe, the fluffy collar becoming a noose around your neck. Instantly, panic switched to guilt; but too late. How could he have thought a note would suffice?

Javier gathered himself, mulling over his thoughts for a careful minute. There was too much he wished to say, to hear nothing more than your whispered assurances while he poured over every fear and doubt that crept in with the morning light. But he couldn’t, his lips refused to say the words once his brain deemed them too weak – too vulnerable – too much, so they just sat like acid in his lungs.

With a harsh, dry swallow, his lips twitched with a smile you barely reciprocated as he took a step closer.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t wanna wake ya.” He pointed to the whiteboard on your refrigerator, the one you used for reminders. “I was gonna leave a note, I’ve got this meeting at work, and needa run home and change.” He awkwardly chuckled while dragging his hand up and down his outfit.

“Got it.” You said - curt - and not daring to look him in the eye. He hoped the use of a half-truth would improve his believability, clearly not.

“Can I call you later?” He asked while bridging the gap, it was a lifeline, a desperate attempt to remedy this. You didn’t look up, you didn’t say anything. He moved again, until his shadow encompassed you, and the split-second glance you offered him turned his stomach into a bundle of knots.

You gave him a quick jerk of your head that stuck in the down position at your bare feet. Timidly, Javier grazed the fuzzy polyester covering your tricep, and he leaned in, running his lips along the crown of your head. “We’ll talk tonight, okay?” He mumbled words in a kiss to your hair, his eyes squeezed shut, savoring the scent, the way he felt being this close to you.

Your silence remained as he pulled away, there was no goodbye, only the echo of his steps on the wood floor followed by a click of the door as he shut it behind him.

---

At the roar of an engine, the final thread of your clinging hope snapped. Maybe it was his car, maybe it wasn’t, but it brought you back to reality. Back to the truth. You could stare at the door for days, and it wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t coming back.

After turning the lock, you raced to the phone and dialed Marie’s number. Even though it was barely 6:30 on a Monday morning, you didn’t care, there was too much on your mind to run through alone.

After a few rings, Marie answered with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry, I’m calling so early - I just-” You twisted the spiral line until your fingers were intertwined in teal wire.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she cleared her throat. “Are you alright?”

“No. No. I - I made a mistake,” you thumped your head against the wall, taking a deep breath before saying it. “I slept with Javi.”

“Shut up. Shut up. You slept with Javi? Finally! Oh my god. How was it? I want every dirty detail.”

“I thought it was good. Great. Actually.” Images of last night played like an erotic show; his hooded, dark eyes staring up, his pink tongue licking your clit. The sounds of him fucking himself as he pleasured you. Suddenly, the porn was replaced with a tragedy - the guilt-wild expression from minutes ago. “But… when I woke up this morning, he was gone. Well, not completely, I caught him before he could fumble out the door.”

“Shit,” She hissed, the enthusiasm drained from her voice. “Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah - well - sorta. He said he had this ‘work thing’ and he’d call me tonight. But, you should’ve seen the look on his face.” You squeezed your eyes shut, and shook your head. “Marie, it was - oh fuck. Why’d I do that?”

“Hey, don’t-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I’m so stupid. I should’ve stopped it last night. Or at least asked for clarification, but nooo, that would’ve ruined the moment, so I just kept going and going, and I guess I thought - it doesn’t matter what I thought. I fucking knew this would happen. I fucking knew it. Fuck.”

If only the rewind button existed in real life. Maybe if you slammed your head against the counter, you could forget last night entirely. Go back to a time before you knew the way his lips felt against your, or how his cock filled you - a time when your friendship wasn’t ruined by three mind-blowing orgasms.

“What are you gonna say when he calls?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what to do or where we go from here. Marie - I - I almost told him I loved him last night. Could you imagine? How embarrassing. How stupid of me.”

Marie said your name so softly that it was barely captured on the other end, she was caught off guard by the revelation after months of steadfast denial. It was the first instance that she could remember hating being right. You leaned against the countertop, rubbing your eyes.

“Well, do you want me to come by later or I can do lunch?” Marie asked.

“No, it’s okay. Maybe tomorrow though?”

Marie agreed and set up a lunch date for the following day. After exchanging goodbyes, you readied yourself for work. For a moment, you debated taking a sick day even though you’d missed Friday. The idea was quickly vetoed after realizing you’d be stuck in the scene of the crime - alone.

For the first time, you wished your micromanaging boss was the one breathing down your neck. What you would do for a stagnant state of annoyance right now. Anything was better than the bounce from rage to sadness to embarrassment, a terrible concoction that had your stomach feeling like a science experiment gone haywire.

After hours of staring at the same stack of papers and fiddling with pens, you groaned and dropped your head into your hands.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why did you allow your desires and wants to dilute your logical thinking? You’d spent months rationalizing and reminding yourself about his mindset, the confliction in your future plans - the plethora of reasons not to indulge. Yet, you decided to give in, no jump head first all based on a gut-feeling and a twinkle in his eyes you swore you saw. How naive. What a mistake.

All you could hope for now, was you could save face, and be the first to say it.

---

The day went by in a daze; his internal monologue was like a loose scroll spiraling down a flight of stairs. His fist was shaking at his side as he paced up and down the galley kitchen.

It was official, he wasn’t built for romantic relationships, that theory was proven ten-fold this morning. Somehow, even with the best intentions, he always ended up hurting someone. One - technically two - stupid, impulsive decisions and he managed to damage everything. He was fucking Godzilla, stomping over the town. He hated himself, the hurt in your eyes tormented him all day, and he swore to himself, he would never be the cause again.

If you gave him the chance.

He slammed his hands on the counter, the color draining from his face to redden his palms. The idea – the possibility – of losing you was eating him alive. - a parasite - a tapeworm - he ingested, knowingly. The phone glared at him, indicating his time was up, and if he prolonged this, the outcome could only be worse. With shaky fingers, he dialed your number, taking a deep breath with each unanswered ring.

“Hello?”

His eyes shut like a reflex when he heard your voice. “Hey,” he breathed out, back pressed against the wall. “How’s it goin’?”

“Fine.” His grip tightened. He deserved the short response, but that didn’t stop him from missing the usual excitement; he’d do anything to find a way back.

There was a long pause. Javier licked his lips, thoroughly contemplating his next words. But, you beat him to it.

“Javi, listen.” His sweat-sticky palms clammed up against the beige plastic, breath held in wait. “Last night was a mistake.”

The words bit at him in a way he didn’t expect, especially since they were the exact words he wished for you to say. However, the feeling passed, replaced by temporary relief.

“I couldn’t agree more. Not that it wasn’t…good. It was. But, we never should’ve-”

“100%,” you rushed out, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too.” He waited a beat, before speaking again. “So, got any plans this weekend?” Silence consumed the line, and he felt it. His fear - loneliness. The single emotion that motivated him to withhold his desire for so long, coming back to life.

“Ja - I can’t do this, I just - I need a little time. Okay? I’ll talk to you later, alright?” It was hard not to notice the way your voice cracked at the empty promise. For the second time that day, his lungs burned, he wanted to say sorry, ask - beg - for you to tell him how to make it better, let you know he hated himself for this. But again, he didn’t.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll talk later.” It was the only words he managed to say without his chin trembling.

“Bye, Javier.”

He squeezed his eyes shut until his eardrums rumbled. He wanted to erase the way you said his name, sorrowful - remorseful - his own doing.

Then, the line hummed dead.

---

Marie clicked her acrylic nails against the counter, shifting between you to the unanswered phone on the wall. If it weren’t for the blade of the knife sharply cutting against the board, you would’ve appeared indifferent to the insistent ringing. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, your voicemail played, followed by a beep.

‘Hey… it’s - uh - Javi…Give me a call.’

Your limbs went rigid as the familiar voice played, slightly muddied by desperation.

After a second of tense silence, you returned to your task, dicing the red pepper with vengeance.

“Still not talking, huh?” Marie asked, and you shook your head. She assumed as much, given your refusal to discuss him for the last two weeks. Slinking into the barstool, she ducked down in an attempt to catch your attention. “How many times has he called?”

Annoyance prickled at the base of your neck. “I don’t know. Four? Maybe five times?”

Marie popped a grape into her mouth, crossing her arms on the countertop in a stance that meant business.

“Have you thought about answering?”

“Once or twice,” you wiped your hands with a nearby rag before tossing the thin fabric over your shoulder. “But what’s there to say?”

Marie cocked her head to the side. “Well, do you miss him?” She asked with an uncharacteristic softness. A tone she reserved specifically when she was attempting to ease into a difficult topic.

You slid the cut up vegetable into a bowl before acknowledging her. “Everyday,” you said with a voice barely above a whisper.

His presence had seeped into your being - your bones - after spending countless nights on the phone, sharing meals and watching movies, the loss of him and his daily presence was unbearable, a constant ache that reminded you of what used to be.

Marie hummed. She remained quiet for a moment, almost appearing content to leave it there as she traced lines of the stone slab with her pointer finger. “Why don’t you tell him that?”

You scoffed - a harsh and ugly sound - that came from deep in your chest. The corner of your eyes burned with fat unshed tears, blurring the red tint of your vision. Her suggestion was a mento in an already shaken up two-litter.

“Tell him what, exactly? That I miss him? That I think about him, when I lay in bed at night, the same one he fucked me and left, wondering - worrying if he’s alright? It’s all fucked up, now.” Your words blazed, hot like the tears running down your cheeks. “You think, I don’t wanna let it go? I do. I really do. I want it to go back to what it was. But it can’t. I can’t. I can’t. It hurts too much.”

The anger switched to a sound of utter defeat, and once the last word was spoken, your shoulders shook with an uncontrollable sob that filled the room. Marie settled her hand on top of yours, as you finally allowed yourself to mourn the loss in its entirety.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out once you gained a smidge of control over your breathing. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I just. I don’t know what to do, Marie. I don’t know. I just - I love him, I love him so much, and I don’t.”

“Hey - hey. Don’t apologize. It’s okay, it’s fine, really.” Her heart ached to see you this way, this torn up. She didn’t know what to say to help, if anything could help ease the pain, so she squeezed your hand a little tighter and hoped her presence was enough.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I have to see him,” you stuttered, gulping for air with each word.

“When would that be?” She asked - lighthearted.

“In two weeks,” Marie’s brows jumped, then settled into a crease. You let go of her hand to rip off a section of paper towel to blow your nose with. “At Tyler’s birthday party.”

“You haven’t told Joe?” You shook your head, “Why?”

“It’d ruin them. I can’t do that to Joe…or to Javi.”

“As sweet as that is, Joe’s gonna know somethings up, what -”

“I know - I know. I’ve thought it through and I got it covered.” Marie tilted her head, waving her hand in a motion to prompt you to elaborate. You wiped the lingering tears from your cheeks as you spoke. “Okay, but don’t judge. I’m just gonna tell him, I have a new boyfriend. So, out of respect for that, I stopped hanging out with Javi.”

Marie shook her finger, “That’s pretty good. However, what’s your reason for not bringing him?”

“Ah - see I got that covered as well. Obviously I’ve had way too much time to think. But, since this is a new relationship, you know, since I just went to Laredo, I’m gonna say it’s just a little too early to bring him around.”

“Okay - okay. Do you think you can pull this off?”

“Fuck. I really hope so.”

---

“Here, Pops.” Chucho grabbed the cold beer tapping against his shoulder, and smiled up at his son. Cracking open his own, Javier plopped down on the couch, settling in just in time for the evening news.

With a deep groan, he stretched his legs out. His body was stiff, the back of his neck burnt cherry red from working on the ranch from the first glint of sun until the sky turned gold. It’d been the same routine for the past three weekends. Manual labor and the company of Chucho was his only solution for some reprieve from thinking of you. Something he’d yet to find in Austin.

His apartment was haunted by the ghost of you. Your hand-picked decor, a reminder of what used to be, scattered the walls ingrained with potpourri. However, he found the lack of you more daunting. There were no wine stains on the counter, only beer cans and single to-go boxes in the trash. No VHS to return to Blockbuster on Monday, no voicemail left to remind him, let alone a single call - his phone idle.

“You wanna talk about it?” The weather report reflected onto Chucho’s lenses as he looked upon his sullen son. Despite Javier not speaking a word of it, Chucho knew something was wrong, and that something involving you. “Javi, what happened?”

The amount of times Chucho pushed his son to discuss his feelings could be counted on two hands. His son by nature was guarded, but in his younger years, his mother had taken on the role, something he regretted now. Chucho wasn’t like some men, definitely not like his father, a strict disciplinarian, yet he didn’t quite have the gift of his late life, she had a natural ease, a way with words spoken in a warm voice that made you feel understood. Times like these, he missed her the most.

So, Chucho prayed every night, asking his wife for the words to guide him, to help ease the torment that riddled their son.

Javier swung his legs over to plant his feet firm on the ground, his head dropped between his shoulders, brown eyes peering up at him. “I messed up.” He dragged his hand down his face, rubbing the tender skin of his palm along the overgrown stubble on his jaw.

Chucho hummed from deep in his chest, “Did you apologize?”

He shook his head in regret. “Should’ve. Pops. I’ve tried calling - I -” His nostrils flared, a sad sounding exhale dulled by the crunch of aluminum in a tightened grip. “I’m gonna. Next weekend.” Chucho’s face squished in confusion, but before he could ask why he was waiting, Javier responded. “Joe’s son’s birthday party. I’ll see her there. It’ll be better in person.”

“Ahhh. Good. The best place to start is an apology. That girl, she cares about you Javi, I’m sure an apology will go a long way.” Chuco saw his son tense, and he tried not to think of what broke the two of you apart. He leaned back in his chair. Neither of them said a word as they watched the segment about the dog being rescued from a sewer.

“Dad,” Javier’s voice was low, uncaring to if his father heard him. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

Chucho frowned. Javier looked like a little boy again. His tiny body in the doorway as he sought comfort after a nightmare. He wished it was that simple again, that he could tuck him in, cover him with that blue baby blanket he loved and tell him it wasn’t real. But he couldn’t, it was no longer that easy.

“Then, you gotta live with that. All you can do now is try.”

Taglist: @seasonschange-butpeopledont @furious-rogue-stuff @catchallfangirl @honeyofthegods @athalien @peoniarose @phandoz @littlemisspascal @0celesteisthebest0 @hnt-escape @adriiibell @snowqueen09 @whatodair @oliviajdjarin @iblogtopassthetime @paintlavillered @hotchlover @bruxasolta @southotheborder @kirsteng42 @vanemando15 @blub-senpai @lowlights

[genshin-no-simp]

Alpha!Kaeya x Omega!Reader (Smut)

Pairing: Kaeya x You/Reader (Female Reader)

Warnings: Sexual content starts below the cut.

Extra warnings: slight breeding kink and possessiveness.

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

Alpha's were too possessive.

Beta's were little bitches.

And Omega's were too needy.

Nobody could deny these statements, nor could they determine what you were. There were many disputes on this matter. Many claimed you are an Omega due to your small and petite stature common among all Omega's. Others called you an Alpha with your feisty and somewhat aggressive behaviour, a trait common to Alpha's, though anyone would be on edge having to hide their scent all the time. So often people determined you were a Beta and left it at that.

Of course not all of them dropped the issue, the matter of fact that you concealed your scent was suspicious, it was something that not many did. Some put it down to the fact that you were still unmated with so more often than not, many over confident Alpha's who were in their ruts, would approach you, their scents stronger and muskier, more alluring than usual, trying to draw out yours, for you to only turn your nose up in displeasure, calling them disgusting.

Which wasn't a lie, all the Alpha's you have met had an over powering scent which was quite unpleasant, you desired something more sweet and alluring, something smooth and soothing, you realized that you would not find that person in your hometown so you chose to move to Mondstadt where you soon would find it.

Now even after you moved away from your hometown to Mondstadt, Alpha's would hound you daily, most of them gave up on trying to figure out if you were an Alpha, Beta or an Omega, you were a gorgeous and mysterious woman, who wouldn't want to mate with someone like that?

And today was certainly no exception.

"Come now cutie, I don't mind what you are, just come play with me, I can show you a good time," an over eager Alpha smirked, confidence dripping with every word. You held your breath, refraining from inhaling his pungent scent that made your stomach recoil.

"Yes so you and every other Alpha in this town claim." You scoffed turning from him, hoping he'd get the hint that you are uninterested. Instead he grabbed your hand pulling you to face him again.

"Unlike them I'm experienced." His scent became muskier with arousal, which only turned your stomach more.

"I could hardly care about your experience, I doubt you're that great anyway," you rolled your eyes pulling your wrist out of his grasp.

Losing his temper the male forcefully pinned you to the wall with a snarl, "you ignorant, untamed, feral bitch, you don't have any idea how many women want my pups. You should be grateful that I'm choosing you." He said it as if it was something to be thankful for, if anything you thought him feral. Before you could retort, you caught whiff of a familiar scent, a scent that sent you into a frenzy, your stomach filled with butterflies but you maintained your composure as you watched a hand grip the males shoulder as they dug their nails in deeply, the male let out a pathetic yelp as he released you to clench his fist and swing at the unknown third party behind him. His fist was easily caught and the males face turned pale as if he saw a ghost.

"C-c-captain Kaeya," his voice trembled, his once self-assured scent filled with fear.

"Lawrence my fellow Knight, I am quite disappointed in you, this behaviour is unbefitting of a Knight of Favouius," the ever cool Cavalry Captain spoke with a low voice.

"I-I apologize, perhaps my rut got the better of me." The named knight Lawrence shook.

"Its not me you should apologise to," Kaeya narrowed his eyes, nails digging deeper into his shoulder, you were certain he drew blood. Lawrence swiftly turned to you and bowed deeply.

"Please miss (Y/N), accept my deepest of apologies," he didn't move from his bow.

"Fine, just go away," you didn't care at all for his apology you just wanted him gone.

"Yes of course! You won't see me again!" Kaeya removed his hand from the other knight and he ran for it. Leaving you and the blue haird captain alone. You sighed deeply slumping against the wall you were still leaning on.

Kaeya reached out but decided against the notion, for he feared of your rejection. Although it wasn't the first time he's interacted with you, and even if during those numerous times you never told him to go away, or to go fuck himself, he still kept his distance. He didn't know when your attitude might change.

"Are you okay?" Kaeya spoke softly with concern. Even his scent that smelled like sweet wine and snow pine was etched with concern. Your face flushed, trying to keep yourself concealed was getting harder, the fact that you were going into a heat cycle right now didn't help, his scent was quicken the process. Around any other male it was fine, since their over-bearing scents had the opposite effect on you.

"Yes I'm quite alright Sir Kaeya," you smiled softly. The Captain couldn't help but chuckle.

"Come now, just Kaeya is fine," he gave a smile, not one that he showed to other people, but a genuine one.

"Alright then...Kaeya." It felt nice saying his name like that. If you stayed with him any longer, you knew you would do something you'd regret. As if he read your mind he spoke.

"Here, allow me to walk you home." He tilt his head to the side motioning his hand in the direction of your house. You gave a curt nod and walked with him to your house. It wasn't a long trip to begin with but it ended far too quickly for your liking as you soon found yourself standing outside your door.

"Thank you for taking the time to walk me home." You unlocked the door and turned back to give him a grateful smile.

"It was my pleasure. Have a good night (Y/N)," he gave a small bow before turning on his heel walking away.

Quickly you entered the comfort of your home, letting out a small whine, finally able to stop restricting your scent, the strain on your body lifting as the hallway was quickly filled with your smell. Your body began to burn, a fever being brought on by your heat. Swiftly you made your way to the stairs, but stumbled on your way. You reached out with your arm to the dresser in the hallway, your body slamming roughly into it causing the vase to fall and shatter loudly. Too caught up by the burning in your body you curled onto the floor letting out deep breaths. All you could think about was Kaeya, which all it did was made things worse for you.

Outside Kaeya hadn't gotten even three feet away before his ears picked up on the commotion coming from inside. His body tensed, as he rushed to the door but stopped. He wasn't the type to just barge into a lady's house but this was you he was talking about, he would never forgive himself if something had happened and he could've done something to prevent it. He'd apologise later for entering unannounced. So he opened the door and before he could even take one step inside your scent hit him in the face like a ton of bricks, your sweet yet salty Omega scent. Gods, you were an Omega after all. He breathed it in deeply, his wild and primal Alpha instincts were telling him to take you there and then but he shoved those feelings down as he watched you lay on the floor hot, bothered and so very, very vulnerable. He's never seen you like this, he's certain nobody has ever seen you like this. In your haze you could smell him, it smelt so good, so comforting.

"Kaeya," you mewled softly. His body froze, did you just call for him? Snapping out of it he swiftly closed the door, locking it, he didn't want anyone else getting in the way, he also took his boots off placing them next to your shoes. Slowly and gently he made his way over.

"Yes, I'm here," he called out ever so softly. You were startled, in a daze you sat up leaning against the dresser you had previously tumbled against, you weren't expecting him to actaully be here, or perhaps it was your mind playing tricks on you. Yet his scent was too real, but you were still unsure so you spoke.

"Are you real?" Your face reddened from your fever your hand reached out towards him. Instantly he took your hand in his and pulled you to him, you were surprisingly light. He held you tight against his chest, as he sat against the wall.

"What do you think?" He whispered softly. He held you close, your face pressed into he crook of his neck, where his scent was strongest. You pressed your nose against his neck inhaling deeply as you gripped his clothes. Kaeya let out a shaky breath feeling your breath against his skin. He could feel his control slipping but he had to keep it together, he would let you lead tonight, or until given permission.

"Kaeya, it's too hot," despite your statement you pressed your body closer to his, your hands delving into his clothes.

"I know," he spoke softly, he used his cryo power to cool his hands sufficiently and touched the back of your neck to try and cool you a bit. You arched your back letting out a desperate moan.

"Kaeya please," you whined now pawing at his clothes. His eyes thinned his voice low and husky.

"I don't want you to regret this, if you let me do this, I'm claiming you, marking you as mine. I won't allow anyone else to touch you," his cool hand that was on your neck moved to your chin to lift your head up to look at him. Despite your hazy state you understood what that meant, if he claims you, he would be your mate for life and you didn't want it any other way. So in response you smashed your lips against his with need.

Kaeya let out a small groan gripping your hips tightly. His tongue slipping into your mouth, his tongue rubbed against yours, caressed the inside of your cheeks, delving deep into your cavern, tasting you, unable to get enough. You moaned into his mouth some saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Breaking the kiss, Kaeya removed his lips from yours, he smirked and licked up the saliva. You out a needy sigh leaning in to meet his lips again, for Kaeya to lean away putting his finger your lips.

"Come now darling, I don't think this is the place," he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, after all this was about you. You couldn't help but growl softly when he stopped but appreciated his consideration.

"My bedroom isn't far," you spoke softly against his finger giving it a quick lick before grabbing his wrist and pulling him up with you.

"My, someone is certainly eager," he teased as you practically dragged him up the stairs. Throwing the door open you made your way to your bed where you made your nest, where many pillows and blankets were built up. Kaeya felt a tingling sensation, you could've taken him to a different room but you took him here instead. Holding himself back was indeed a challenge and then some. You had let go of his wrist a few seconds ago now, you were sitting in the middle of your nest looking at him.

"Kaeya why are just standing there? Come here." You patted the space beside you. You were inviting him in, into your sanctuary, into the place where you spend most your time nurturing and raising your little ones. The tingling sensation inside him grew. He was becoming unsure so he asked again.

"(Y/N)...are you sure?" His voice low as he stood at the edge of the bed.

"Kaeya I may in heat and needy but I'm not incapable of choosing my mate," You held out your hand to him with a smile. Kaeya returned your smile and took your hand. The bed dipped as he leaned his body weight onto it. He crawled into the centre with you as he watched you lay down onto your back offering your submission to him.

And just like that, the last string of Kaeya's restraint snapped. Grabbing the hem of your blouse he ripped it from your body. You gasped lightly in surprise, it was unexpected. Kaeya did the same with your bra freeing your breasts. The moment your chest was bare his face was buried into your neck. His tongue lapped on your scent gland, your back arched pressing your chest against his. In response he pushed down against you pinning you to the bed. You let out a mewl wrapping your arms around his neck, a hand finding it's way into his luscious blue locks. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access to your neck.

"Kaeya please." You pleaded rubbing your leg up his side, instantly you felt his teeth sink into your neck.

He has marked you.

He has claimed you.

You are his now.

And nobody can take you away.

"Kaeya~" you moaned loudly.

Your mind began to swim, you couldn't think straight. All you wanted was him. You needed him.

"Kaeya, my Kaeya, my Alpha, please," you panted softly, "please fill me, give me your pups, please." Your sincere desperation drove him insane.

Kaeya removed himself from your neck to make quick work of both your clothing. He watched as your pussy glistened with your slick. As much as he wanted to plow into you right now, he knew he should prepare you so it wouldn't hurt as much, so he slid two fingers into you. You gripped his hair slightly arching your back, a gasp type moan escaped your lips. His fingers easily entered and exited your pussy. He made a scissoring motion, stretching out your walls. Your legs twitched in anticipation. Being impatient Kaeya deemed that you were ready. With the fingers coated in your slick he stroked himself a few times before lining his dick up with your pussy.

"I'm going to fill you real good baby, so good you won't be able to think of anything else but me." With that he pushed himself deep inside you, until he was fully inside.

You let out a cry of ecstasy, throwing your head back, "yes Kaeya!" With your neck exposed to him once more he latched onto it, leaving multiple love marks all the while thrusting mercilessly into you. Endless moans escaped you lips as you gave yourself to pleasure and instinct. Kaeya lifted his head from your love bitten chest. His fingers dug into your hips as he watched your wither beneath him. The sight of your disheveled body aroused him greatly. Hooking your legs over his arms, he spread your legs further, this new angle allowed him to hit that delicious spot inside you. Your walls clenched around him with every thrust to your g-spot. Kaeya growled deeply feeling the knot form at the base of his dick. Once it swelled he wouldn't be able to pull out, releasing inside you would be inevitable. But you did ask for it and he won't disappoint. You could feel his knot start to form, your hand gripped the back of his neck pulling his face close to yours.

"Don't you dare stop Kaeya," you warned him. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"Wouldn't dream of it princess. I told you, I'm going to fill, I'll fill you with my pups and I won't stop until I do. Until your stomach is swollen with my pups," you moaned into his ear you before biting down on his scent gland, marking him as yours.

Claiming him as yours.

"Fuck," he groaned feeling his need for release approaching like a storm.

Kaeya captured your lips in his.

"I promise I'll take good care of you," he panted, sweat coating both your bodies. He gave you a small smile as you gave into your release. Spurred on by your release and the tightness of your walls, Kaeya came deep inside you. You felt his seed warm up your insides making it's way to your womb. You let out a satisfied moan.

Slowly and gently Kaeya put down your legs giving them a small rub. He caressed your hair as he waited for you to come down from your high. Once your breathing returned to normal you opened your eyes and met Kaeya's blue orb as he gazed down at you lovingly. Your heart fluttered.

"I won't be able to move for a few minutes so bare with me okay." He spoke softly moving into a more comfortable position for both of you, rather than staying on top of you. Instead he moved onto his back so you could lay on his chest. He held you close rubbing soothing circles into your back. You closed your eyes in content.

"Kaeya, did you mean what you said?" Your eyes opened to look up at him still resting your head on his chest.

"About what? I said a lot things." He chuckled softly. You blushed softly twirling his hair.

"Well about everything."

"Of course I did," he cups your cheek leaning in to kiss you on the lips sweetly, lingering long enough for you to want more before he pulls away ever so slightly, "I love you."

You blushed with a smile, "I love you too," you said capturing his lips with yours.

[nationalharryleague]

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.”

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