Prince Imagines.

Swear Jar.

It was an unseasonably cold winter in Chanhassen, Minnesota. Sure, you were used to the cold, but this year was different. There was a snow storm coming later tonight which would leave you stuck in the house. You and your husband, Prince, had plans to go out to your favorite restaurant for your three year anniversary, but due to the weather, you both agreed to stay inside tonight and watch a couple of movies.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you made your way into the kitchen to grab another glass of wine. Your third one of the evening. You were extremely bored and Moscato was going to be your personal source of entertainment.

For now.

In a spur of the moment decision, your husband had a sudden burst of inspiration and convinced himself that he just had to work on a new song. Right now. Of course, you didn't approve because it's your anniversary, and you told him this-very loudly- but being a lover of music and a little bit of an artistic soul yourself, you understood that he needed to answer when inspiration called.

So your movie night was briefly placed on hold. At least until he was finished.

Whenever that was.

He would be in that little music studio all night if he could with no interruptions. If you'd let him.

"To hell with this." You mutter angrily to yourself as you sit your half filled glass down on the table and made your way to Studio B to give him a piece of your mind.

And drag him out of there by his little Afro if you have to.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

That was the sound your fist made as it connected with the wooden surface of the door. You waited a second to see if he'd answer. When you gained no response, you just decided to quietly open the door just in case he was recording.

Luckily for you, when you walked inside, he was sitting in one of the chairs, strumming a soft melody on his guitar and pausing only to write something down in a notebook.

Probably lyrics.

You saw a hint of a smile playing on the corners of his lips as you made your way over to him. The sound of your heels clicking announced your presence before you could even utter a single word.

You cleared your throat and folded your arms across your chest, tilting your head slightly to the left, waiting for him to acknowledge you.

"____________ , I know you're here, babe." He replied with a soft chuckle, his gaze never wavering from that little notebook.

"How did you-."

"Your heels gave you away." He says before you could finish your sentence, finally taking a moment to look up at you. His hazel orbs danced with amusement as you felt a smile forming on your own lips.

You had no idea what it was, but there was something about him that made it hard to stay angry.

But as wonderful as the moment was, you had to get back to the task at hand.

You had to get him out of that studio so you both can celebrate your anniversary together. 

"Babe...?" You call out to him as wheels in your mind turned, trying to figure out exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hmm?" He responds, his eyes fixated on that notebook again.

By this time, you wanted to rip it up because it had all of his attention and you had none of his. The damn thing was working your last nerve.

And so was he.

"Can you look at me for a second, please?"

"Okay, just one second, babe. I'm almost done." He says, still writing in that notebook like you hadn't said a word.