The Date To The Wedding

TITLE: The Date To The Wedding


AUTHOR : tomcuddlesfic


GENRE: romance / fluff

FIC SUMMARY: Lexi asks her friend Tom to a wedding because she’s nervous about her mother pestering her about her relationship status.


Author’s notes: The good news is that the second one shot is much easier after forcing yourself to write the first one shot. Tell me what you think!

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Unadvertised love #Paris #Shots

Akashi Seijurou X Reader


  Your hands trail lightly over the gossamer cloth that shines in the light. The silky dress slips between your fingers; so light, so delicate. Small, crystal beads litter the surface like granules of sugar. Intricate white lace spreads over the surface as captivating as a butterfly and as fine as a spider’s web. The embroidery snakes down the skirt to pool on the floor in a thin, floral based design as a veil of the same making sits on the small shelf suspended over the dress.

  Seeing such a magnificent piece of clothing creates clashing feelings of wanting and wavering. On one hand, your selfish side wants to wear the dress, and feel what it’s like to adorn such a work of art. On the other, you feel as if even touching it now is marring the surely long hours dedicated to sewing just a few inches of this treasure.

  Well, it’s okay to be a little selfish every once in a while.


  Being the two year girlfriend of Akashi Seijuro, it isn’t unusual for you to spend the night at his home after staying so late to just hang out. However, you usually reside in a separate guest bedroom at his father’s request. (Akashi has snuck into the room on some occasions, but that’s a secret.)

  Night had fallen not long ago, and you were expecting to travel the same path to your room until you were notified that it, along with some other various rooms, is being remodeled. Thus, a maid of the residence led you towards a completely unknown bedroom to yourself.

  "Your clothing has been transferred to the closet, and you’ll find your bathroom supplies within the conjoining restroom.“ She had said. You thanked her as dismissal, and she soon abandoned the closed door to dabble in her nightly chores.

  Barely even a minute after the heavy door fell shut, you were heading towards the closet to collect your pajamas. A nice, warm bath occupied your mind, and so you were especially hasty to find the wear. Once the closet was bathed in the dim glow of your bedroom light, you caught sight of an imposter.

  At the farthest side of the closet, separated from your own clothing by a wide gap, was a hanger. It’s occupant was covered away from your sight by a white, zip-up bag of leather. Naturally, your curiosity grew to an astounding height, and you quickly pulled the zipper down; watching the shield fall to the ground to reveal the mystery inside.

  And that brings us to now.

  Carefully pulling the dress off of the hanger, you walk it over to the bed and gently lay it down on the mattress with its back facing up. Laced buttons run the length of the torso, and you undo each one delicately as if they would snap off if you tugged too hard. When the dress is ready to be worn, you discard of your own clothing.

  Goosebumps appear over your bare arms and legs, and it makes your skin hyper-aware of the soft garments gliding over them. With the dress hanging from your shoulders, you tiptoe to a full body mirror in the corner and use it to aid you in re-buttoning the back. When the last button slides home, you face forwards with breath held; as if mentally preparing yourself. You then turn around and stare at your reflection.

  Of course, the fit doesn’t perfectly match your bodice. The chest is slightly bigger, and the waist is a little snug. The skirt seems to be too close to the floor. And yet, it still seems to look amazing despite needing adjustments.

  You’re not sure how long you had been staring at yourself, but it must have been a while when a knock came to your door.

  ”_____, are you in the tub?“ Your dear boyfriend’s voice mumbles past the wood.

  "No.” You respond, and you watch the entrance open through the mirror until Akashi steps inside. His gaze falls over you immediately, and it’s as if he’s frozen. Shuffling uncomfortably, you face the surprised teen.

  "I…probably shouldn’t have worn this. It was in the closet, and it looked so gorgeous, I just had to try it on.“ You sheepishly admit.

  ”…it is a gorgeous creation, isn’t it?“ Akashi mumbles to himself as his heterochromatic stare skims over the dress.

  "If it’s not too much of a hassle, uh, where did this come from?” You inquire. Akashi’s eyes meet your own (E/C) ones, and he blinks.

  "It was my mother’s.“

  Your mouth seems to lose all of its moisture, and you let out a surprised cough before frantically speaking.

  "I’m so sorry, Seijurou! I knew I shouldn’t have put it on-oh gosh, just leave for a second so I can take it off-”

  You stop when you notice that he isn’t even listening anymore. Instead, Akashi wanders over to the closet and gingerly lifts the veil off of its shelf.

  "A wedding dress,“ Akashi mutters as he stands in front of you, “is not complete-”

  He raises the headdress and places it upon your head; partially blocking your vision with the cloth.

  ”-without the veil.“

  For a moment, there is silence. Then, the shuffling of movement is heard as you attempt to drape the veil over your head; giving you a clear view of Akashi. Your hands are stopped, though, by a pair of larger, familiar ones.

  "No,” Akashi declares, “don’t move it.”

  His tone of voice, as strong as usual, seems to crack at the end. Your eyebrows knit together, and a defiant question is voiced.


  The word drifts through the air; twisting and turning in a rhythmless dance before alighting on Akashi’s ears. The lace might have been playing tricks on your eyes, but you swear you saw his lips twitch upwards to a degree.

  "Because, _____,” he responds, “my orders are absolute. I am absolute. And to see an absolute man weep would be unacceptable. So as long as you don’t see it -as long as no one sees it- it is as if it never happened. I would normally have a better grasp on my emotions, and yet; seeing you, someone whom I love with all of my heart, adorning the same clothing that my beloved mother wore so long ago, I am not entirely sure how to react. It’s as if all of my control has disappeared.”

  Hearing those words from Akashi makes your own eyes glossy, and you instinctually wrap your arms around his shoulders; pulling him in for a long embrace as his chin rests by your ear. You ignore the feeling of tears hitting your shoulder and soaking the fabric.

  "In a way, I suppose this is all well.“ He mumbles. “I’ve seen it. I’ve lived this experience. Now, I’ll be able to compose myself the next time.”

  "Next time?“

  "Of course. Now that I have witnessed the dress on you, I’d rather not see it gracing the body of anyone else.”