#Sisters Folk Festival

[wonderlesch]

Can’t Miss September 2023 Events

Travel with me and discover Can't Miss September 2023 Events. Explore GalaxyCon Austin, Blue Ridge Rock Festival, Bourbon & Beyond, Spa-Con and so much more. Get your planner out, Sweptember 2023 is going to be busy!

Hello and welcome to my Blog Post Can’t Miss September 2023 Events. Here I share travel destination events being held throughout the United States during the month of September. Discover where special celebrity guests from the TV series Star Trek, the movie Galaxy Quest, X-Files TV series and movie franchise will be appearing. If your preference is live music events read on to explore Bumbershoot…

[magulon]

Congratulations to team past!!!

Its nice to see the Squidsters win one last time. I was on team Future but every time I went up against team past in battles.. yall genuinely terrified me LMAO well played!

[skyplayssplatoon3]

The Grand Festival...

We're a month away from the big event!

What team are you thinking of joining? Do you have any special reasons for joining said team? Do you think there'll be any impact on the future installments of Splatoon from the results of this Fest, much like the last two? [As always, please be civil and respectful in the comments!]

[nofatclips-home]

The Baltic Sister @ Viljandi Folk Music Festival X Petites Planètes

Cuckoo song

Sese sodu sodina

Tumsīnā, vakarā

[kraymerman]

Now that the Grand Fest has officially come to an end and the winners announced, I would like to give a few words.

To Team Past: Congratulations big time for your win! You put in the good fight and prevailed despite, quite frankly, overwhelming odds (and out of our two opponents, you were the ones I would've wanted to win, if it wasn't us)! Well well done! 👏👏👏

And to my fellow folks on Team Future: Well done! We faced the same overwhelming odds as Team Past, combined with Past's odds stacked against us, and although we came in a very, very dead last, by Joe we didn't go down without a fight, and the effort alone, the drive to never give up, deserves praise enough. That just makes us underdogs, just like the dear idols that represented us! And unlike the Past or the Present, there is no way of escaping the Future, it'll come whether you like it or not! Be it tomorrow, next week, or next year, we will, eventually, prevail! Because we're the Future, and the Future is the marching passage of Time! Well done, guys! Well done indeed! 👏👏👏

(have the Splatpost I made after the fest ended. it's the exact same one that I had for the fest, but I just added the underdog part)

[alwaysalreadyangry]

If I were a blackbird I’d whistle and sing, I’d follow that vessel my true love sails in

[starlightomatic]

hi, i just want to remind folks that a lot of people on here have personal connections to people who died or were kidnapped on october 7th. please keep this in mind when you want to understand why we react so much when people denying, minimize, or celebrate it.

a couple of months ago i met vivian silver's best friend. vivian silver was a long-time peace activist who was burned to a crisp so badly on october 7th that it took weeks to identify her body. my ex-boyfriend's family was friends with her as well, and they spent those weeks believing she was a hostage and hoping for her return, only to discover that she had been dead the whole time.

a couple weeks ago i met the sister of a nova festival survivor. she said that the hours when her brother was out of contact and they didn't know if he was alive or dead were both the shortest and longest hours of her life. another friend of mine lost five friends that day. yet another friend lost two friends who were on a biking trip in southern israel.

a couple who i know because they attended my childhood synagogue while in the US for two years lived in kibbutz nahal oz. they always told us how beautiful it was, and how they wanted us to visit it. now we can't; it's destroyed, with several of its residents killed. they and their two young girls miraculously survived after hiding in their safe room for ten hours before being rescued. a good friend of mine's boyfriend is from one of the kibbutzim that was destroyed, but he was not there at the time and so survived.

once, many years ago when the ex-boyfriend who i mentioned above (the one who knew vivian) were on a gap year in israel, i visited him on the kibbutz he was living on on a thursday night, and his friend gave us a ride to a bus station the next day to help us get to our shabbat destinations. the friend was headed on to visit friends at kibbutz be'eri, now destroyed, with over 10% of residents killed. i don't know if that man's friends survived.

another friend of mine, who was my coworker for several months when she was in the US last year, lived in metula in northern israel, on the border with lebanon. because of the war, she and many others are internally displaced within israel, because her home is not safe from rockets. recently, a mutual friend told me her house has been destroyed.

another friend of mine attended virtual synagogue with chaim katzman, a young man who spent time in the west bank protecting palestinian shepherds. when hamas fighters opened the closet he was hiding in to capture hostages, they shot him immediately, before taking hostage the women and children hiding in the closet with him.

in total, i have at least eight friends-of-friends who were killed on october 7th. the actual number is probably far higher, since i have a lot of friends in israel and many israelis lost people; but the eight is confirmed.

all of this to say: please understand when you're interacting with me and other jumblr bloggers that this is not theoretical to us. maybe to some of you, it's an academic excercise in seeing fanon's works in practice. maybe it's about decolonial theory and you might think "ah, well, decolonization is violent, what a shame but it was necessary." please remember it's easier to think that when you're not the one sitting at a shabbat lunch table with your mom's old friend who had to learn within the past few months that a woman she'd built movements with and was best friends with had been burned so badly she couldn't be identified for weeks.

i already know that people will believe the purpose of this post is to "generate consent for genocide" no matter what i say, but i'm going to say it anyway: nothing justifies genocide. nothing justifies the brutality that israel visits on the palestinian people. the people of gaza have gone through an order of magnitude more horror than what israelis have. the entire gaza strip is destroyed; people's homes, schools, mosques, orange orchards, everything. entire families have been killed with not a single surviving member. people have starved to death. people lack sanitation, menstrual products, and safe places to give birth. children are operated on without anesthesia. this is one of the greatest humanitarian crises of this century and it is israel's fault.

we need a ceasefire now; we needed a ceasefire yesterday; we needed a ceasefire months ago; we needed this never to begin. blowing up a child in gaza does not bring back vivian, it does not bring back chaim, it does not bring back my friend's cycling friends. it doesn't untraumatize the girl who waited hours to know if her brother was okay or the young family trapped for ten hours in their safe room. and i know for a fact that vivian and chaim would never have wanted this. not in their names, or at all.

so i am not posting this in an attempt to deny, minimize, excuse, or justify the genocide of the people of gaza, or to deny or excuse the nakba, the israeli raids in the west bank, settler violence, land theft both past and present, burning of olive trees, checkpoints and the restrictions on palestinian movement, the denial of right of return, and the fact that most palestinians do not have voting rights in the country that controls their lives.

i also understand that there are folks on here who have just as many personal connections to gaza -- or more -- than i do to israel. that it's deeply personal to them too, and they have watched as loved ones die, places they love and remember are bombed to dust, and people continue to minimize it, excuse it, or fight over semantics. i understand that this post will not land well for many of those folks, and that it will have activated people to hear me speak of nahal oz as a beautiful place i wanted to visit, because that land likely once belonged palestinian families, and was seized after its residents were herded into gaza during the nakba.

and.

people are human. humans deserve to live in safety. friends of humans who are harmed will feel pain, even if those friends lived on colonized land. i also live on colonized land, i am a settler. i live on the lands of indigenous peoples. when i looked up the nation whose land i live on, i can find information about their history but no information on where they went or whether they still exist. i don't know if they experienced a genocide and were all killed, or if they joined another people. i know i have never met any of them, and i live on their land.

and i'm not the only one. millions of people on this site are also colonizers of indigenous land. if you are not indigenous or Black, and you live in the US or Canada, you are every bit as complicit as my friends' dead friends in israel. your beautiful town is not morally better than nahal oz. you recognize yourself and your friends as people; you see their humanity.

i am beyond begging you to see the humanity of israelis, i think many of you can't. instead, this is my request:

remember, as you're doing your callouts, as you're describing me as evil and a person who needs to be blocked for the safety of your followers to i don't infect you or them with my evil:

i say and feel the things i do in large part from a traumatic event that occurred less than a year ago that i am personally connected to. please use what you know of trauma to understand that.

and then, if you can do that, maybe we can start to understand how trauma plays into why israel is the way it is; why trauma is actually the biggest player. so many of you have asked "how could a people who've been brutalized and oppressed brutalize and oppress another people?" my question: why would you expect that not to happen? trauma responses include fear, anger, aggression, compassion fatigue. when a population of descendants of refugees and genocide survivors, in a world that they believe to be out to get them, either supports or turns a blind eye to their government's atrocities, i am not surprised. saddened, but not surprised.

we then have to start asking: who enacted those traumas? when will we start to see the pain of both palestinians and israelis in light of the violence inflictated by far more powerful entities? by germany in the holocaust; russia and poland in the pogroms; swana arab countries in the persecution of jews post-WW2? who's at the top here? many of you are happy to believe it's jews pulling all the strings, but who set this in motion?

who denied jews safe haven before the holocaust, thus enabling this trauma to be inflicted in the first place? the US, and nearly all countries around the world. who restricted jewish immigration even post-holocaust, thus funneling huge numbers of jewish refugees into palestine, overwhelming the population even if israel had not been a colonial project? again, the US, and many other countries. who made double-promises and drew arbitrary lines in the region leading to decades of conflict? the UK.

who's funding this war? the US. Russia. Iran. don't be fooled that any of them care about israelis or palestinians. they have their own interests.

israelis and palestinians are the collateral damage in a horrible chess game that world powers have been playing for centuries. but they are not collateral damage, they are human beings, and their lives have value. collective liberation demands we look at the levels above the oppressor to see who is holding the strings, who put the puzzle pieces in place, who set off the levers and strings in a noxious rube goldberg machine that left nahal oz and be'eri in ruins and gaza destroyed almost beyond recognition.

my friends' little girls cowering in a safe room were never the enemy. chaim katzman hiding in a closet hoping the fighters would overlook it and leave him alive, or at very least capture him instead of kill him, was never the enemy. and they can't be; not if our goal is freedom and safety for everyone in israel/palestine. choosing who will dominate and who will be the oppressed minority in whatever comes next will not be the answer we need, and will not be liberation. just as zionism was not liberation. what can we build together, when this is all over?

what do we need to dismantle and destroy?

let's start with what we don't: homes. villages. cities. kibbutzim. orange trees. olive trees.

and who do we need to fight?

let's start with who we don't: the children.

[brattyfics]

Not So Secret Santa

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Summary: Eve Dillard’s favorite holiday has lost its sparkle since a painful breakup, leaving her to navigate another lonely Christmas. But when a familiar snow globe from a secret admirer resurfaces, she’s drawn back into the past. The gift leads her to reconnect with Terry Richmond, a high school friend and long-lost crush who’s returned from military service. As their reunion stirs up old feelings, Eve is reminded of the magic of the season and the possibility of rediscovered love.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Holiday Rom-Com Coded

Word Count: 11K+

2024

Christmas had always been Eve Dillard’s favorite time of year.

The cold winter nights were perfect for curling up with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and fresh pine wrapping around Eve like a warm hug. Dressed in her favorite cozy pajamas, she'd let the crackling gas fireplace set the mood while losing herself in the comfort of holiday classics. Christmas wasn’t just a season for Eve—it was part of her identity. Her parents had named her after the holiday, and her siblings carried that same festive spirit in their names: Joy, Noelle, and their baby brother, Emmanuelle.

In the Dillard house, Christmas was magic.

Her mother, Diane Dillard, always turned every room into a wonderland, filling it with sparkling ornaments and twinkling lights. The family hosted a Christmas Eve party that felt like a reunion, with friends and family gathered around a table full of treats: rich red velvet cake, fudgy brownies, and the smoothest frosted pound cake you could imagine. Eve and her siblings would stay up late decorating gingerbread houses, listening to the grown folks talk. Those late nights became a tradition that grounded her in the best kind of holiday joy.

But after Eve turned twenty-five, things started to shift.

Five Christmases ago, her on-again, off-again high school sweetheart, Keith, had shattered her heart. She’d tried to move on, ventured back into the dating scene, but each attempt ended in disappointment. With each passing holiday season, dating felt like an even more hopeless endeavor. The men in her age range were either already in relationships or still out here playing games with women’s hearts. Unfortunately, Christmas had become a cold reminder of what she didn’t have. 

Her siblings were all paired off—her two sisters had married solid, loving men and were chasing toddlers around the house. Even her baby brother had popped the question and was planning his wedding. And her parents? Their love was still as strong as ever, evident in the flirtatious teasing and laughter that echoed through the house whenever they bickered. There she was, the odd one out, especially during the holidays, when it seemed like everyone else was wrapped up in their own love stories.

Now, Christmas felt like a series of awkward work parties and forced smiles, nothing like the fun she remembered. If it wasn’t her aunties grilling her about meeting someone new, it was her cousins teasing her about her “bad luck” with men. The office celebrations, planned weeks ahead so coworkers could celebrate before their holiday leave, left the season feeling drawn out and exhausting. By the time Christmas Day arrived, the festivities felt stale, and Eve found herself just going through the motions, making polite conversation while secretly wishing she could fast-forward to January.

This year, things had gotten even more vexing—Eve had drawn Malik from IT for Secret Santa. Malik wasn’t bad to look at, but he spent more time flirting with every woman in the office than actually doing his job. His antics were enough to make Eve roll her eyes, turning the already-dreaded gift exchange into yet another holiday hurdle. Eventually, she settled on a simple set of pens and a plain notebook—safe, practical, and totally forgettable.

Even as she wrapped the gift, Eve felt the weight of monotony. With no new work crushes or dating prospects to look forward to, Eve’s workdays blurred together—endless paperwork, the same beige-gray office walls, and another holiday season passing in a haze of office chatter. It was easy to tune it all out, to just go through the motions. But then the day came—the day for the office gift exchange

“This one’s for Eve!” Ms. Ruby, the vibrant office manager, called out with her signature enthusiasm. At a proud seventy years young, Ms. Ruby was a force of nature, always stepping into the office with bold, jazzy outfits that matched her lively personality. “A gift from my husband, going on forty-something years strong!” she’d say with a wink whenever someone admired her latest accessory. Mr. Charles was forever splurging on a new costume jewelry set or a fresh pair of colorful shoes, each piece a reflection of his love for her style.

Eve rose from her seat, accepting the green gift bag with a polite smile. Maybe she’d never have a husband of forty-something years who appreciated her inside and out, but at least someone had remembered her favorite color. As she pulled back the tissue paper, her fingers brushed against something smooth and solid nestled inside.

When she lifted the delicate snow globe, Eve’s breath caught in her throat. Inside was a Black princess, a tiny crown perched on her head, surrounded by glittering snowflakes—just like the one she’d had as a child but lost during her senior year of high school.

"Oh my god!" Eve exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise and joy. She looked around the room, eyes sparkling. "Who got me this? I love it!" Her gaze swept across her coworkers, but everyone just shrugged, their smiles barely containing their amusement. Eve's eyes locked with Ms. Ruby’s, who wore a knowing smirk, as if she were in on some secret.

Whoever had chosen this gift had clearly gone to great lengths—it hadn’t been made in nearly twenty years. Who knew her well enough to find something so perfect? Who cared enough to hunt down something so meaningful? She dug through the bag for a card, hoping to find a name, but there was only a blank tag.

She shook the globe, and her eyes lit up as the snowflakes swirled around the princess. But then, tucked underneath it, a flash of highlighter pink caught her eye. She picked up the sticky note, the handwriting oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place it right away: 

I hope you like this gift. It was difficult to find, but seeing you smile will be worth it. From your secret admirer.

Eve scanned the room again, but no one said a word—not even Malik, who was wearing that same smug grin of his. Have I ever seen his handwriting? she wondered, cringing at the thought of him being her secret Santa. Still, the gift was too thoughtful to dismiss, and she couldn't help but feel touched. “Whoever did this, thank you so much,” she said, her voice sincere. “This is honestly the best gift I could’ve gotten.”

The mystery lingered with Eve throughout the rest of the day. She couldn’t help but keep glancing around, half-expecting someone to fess up about being her Secret Santa, but no one did. Eventually, she wandered over to Ruby’s desk, hoping for a clue.

“That defeats the whole point of Secret Santa, baby,” Ms. Ruby said with a laugh, shaking her head as she shuffled through some papers.

Eve leaned casually against the back of Ruby's ergonomic chair. "It's only a secret 'til the gift’s out the bag, Ms. Ruby," she teased. “You already went and told everybody else’s Secret Santa. What’s so special about mine?”

Ms. Ruby glanced up from her stack of paperwork, her eyes twinkling with mischief before she moved quicker than Eve could have expected, swatting her lightly on the behind with the pile of papers.

“Ms. Ruby!” Eve yelped, jumping to the side, a surprised laugh escaping her lips.

“I told you to leave me be so I can get some work done!” Ms. Ruby shooed her away, her lips curling into a mock-serious frown. Eve didn’t have to look twice to know the older woman was more about looking busy than actually doing any paperwork. Working was just her way of staying active—keeping her mind sharp, like the rest of her.

As Eve turned to walk away, she grinned, rolling her eyes. “That woman’s a whole mess,” she murmured under her breath, her lips curling in affection despite herself.

Thoughts of her mysterious Secret Santa stayed with Eve the whole way home, nagging at her while she threw together a quick dinner and cleaned the kitchen. She couldn’t help but replay the moment she’d opened the snow globe, trying to figure out who had picked it out for her. But by the time she’d showered and got comfortable for the evening, her mind had wandered to other things—like what outfit she was going to rock on Christmas Day. She was ready to stunt a little, show her cousins what being childless did for her pockets and her closet.

By the time Eve got to work the next morning, she’d managed to push the mystery to the back of her mind. That is, until she sat down at her desk and spotted another sticky note with that same, familiar handwriting:

I’m glad you liked the gift. I knew it’d bring that beautiful smile of yours to life. If you're wondering who's behind it, I’d love to show you. Meet me for lunch at 1:00 PM—there’s a new spot two blocks down, and I’ve got us a table. Hope you can make it, Eve.

Eve bit her bottom lip, torn between caution and curiosity. Meeting someone like this, all wrapped in mystery, didn’t exactly feel safe or smart. Why all the secrecy? Why leave notes instead of just saying it out loud? How did they know about her smile without even being there? Could her Secret Santa have been watching from the shadows all along, without ever revealing themselves? The thought sent a chill down her spine. But in the end, curiosity won out.

Eve made sure to let Ms. Ruby know where she’d be and when to expect her back. Ms. Ruby’s knowing smile eased her nerves just enough as she stepped out into the brisk winter air, the chill nipping at her cheeks. 

As she walked to the restaurant, Eve quickly texted her siblings the details—just to be safe. She wasn’t taking any chances, especially with the mystery hanging over her head.

When she stepped inside the restaurant, her gloved hands folded nervously in front of her, she took in the cozy ambiance. Soft R&B holiday classics played in the background, and the space glowed with candlelight and pine-scented garlands. Couples leaned in close, lost in their own world. Eve hesitated, feeling self-conscious standing alone at the entrance, until a young waitress approached her with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Are you Eve?"

Eve blinked, startled for a moment. "Yeah, that's me."

"Come on, I’ll show you to your table."

With a mix of curiosity and just a touch of apprehension, Eve followed the waitress further into the restaurant. “Where are we headed?” she asked, doing her best to keep her nerves in check.

“There’s a private area in the back,” the waitress replied with a friendly smile, leading her behind a velvet curtain. Despite the uneasy flutter in her chest, Eve pushed her doubts aside. She wasn’t about to turn back now after coming this far.

On the other side of the curtain, a single table was set up in the center of a cozy, golden-lit room. Sitting there, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and slacks, was a man she hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. His rich honey-brown skin practically glowed in the soft light, and those blue-green eyes of his, sparkling with that same familiar warmth, made her heart skip a beat.

“Terry?” she whispered, the disbelief clear in her voice.

He stood, tall as she remembered, and before she knew it, she was in his arms. She jumped up, and he caught her easily, holding her close as she clung tightly to his neck

“It’s been way too long!” Eve exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as Terry lifted her off her feet, giving her a playful shake before setting her back down. The little girl inside her couldn’t help but squeal.

"Far too long," Terry agreed, his eyes softening as he met her gaze, holding her just a moment longer than necessary before gently lowering her back to the ground.

Eve slapped his arm, still grinning. "What are you doing here? When did you get back?"

“You haven’t changed a bit, Eve—still running that mouth a mile a minute,” Terry teased, his grin wide as he motioned for her to take a seat. Eve sank into the chair, but her gaze stayed locked on him, still struggling to believe he was really here.

They’d been close since childhood, but after graduation, Terry had enlisted in the Marines, and keeping in touch had been impossible. First, it was radio silence during boot camp, then sporadic updates as he climbed the ranks. Meanwhile, she’d dived into her studies, focused on finishing college and earning her degree, though thoughts of him had never been far from her mind. Every time she tried to reach out, something always got in the way.

Eve found herself momentarily frozen, taking in the scent of his cologne and the sharp look of his neatly styled short Afro. "You look good, Terry," she said, though the word "good" didn’t even come close to doing him justice. He’d filled out in all the right places, his frame broader than she remembered. It was clear the Marines had only made him more disciplined, more focused. The tall, lean teenager she remembered had transformed into a man who was clearly all grown up, his muscular build a testament to the years he'd spent shaping himself.

"You look even better." His gaze swept over her, making her pulse race. Eve couldn’t help the flutter in her chest, but she quickly shook it off. She’d grown into her own as well—filled out, gotten more comfortable in her skin, and her acne-prone days were long behind her. But this was Terry. He didn’t see her that way, and she was far too grown to be stuck on an old crush.

"So, for real, what brings you back home?" she asked, forcing herself to focus on the present.

"I'm done with the service now. Retired," Terry said with a shrug. "Figured it was time to come back home, settle down, and start a new chapter. Everyone I care about is here, so it felt like the right place to make it happen."

"Your mama must be over the moon!"

“Over the moon is an understatement,” he chuckled, the edges of his voice softening. “She wanted to throw me a big welcome-back party, but I told her I’d rather reconnect with folks one-on-one.”

"Well, I’m glad I made the list," Eve grinned. "I ran into your mom a few weeks ago, and she didn’t say anything about you coming back!"

Terry smirked. "She didn’t know yet. Can’t give her too much notice, or she’ll have the whole block—and probably folks from here to California—waiting to meet me at the airport." He chuckled, the sound rich and familiar, making Eve feel that comforting pull of home she didn’t even realize she’d been missing.

Eve burst out laughing. "My mama’s the same way! I hear her on the phone all the time, talking about me like, ‘Evie’s still single, y’all; I guess she’s waiting on Jesus.’" She mimicked her mother’s voice so spot-on it had Terry cracking up.

“What happened with ol’ boy—what was his name again?” Terry teased, pretending to forget. Eve shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You mean Keith? We called it quits a while ago.”

“What happened? I thought y’all were gonna be the next Barack and Michelle?”

Eve laughed, the humor hitting her differently now. “Life happened. It just wasn’t meant to be, and I’m good with that.” She wasn’t about to dive into the gory details. She’d healed and moved on. Keith was a chapter she’d closed long ago.

“You were way too good for him, anyway.” Eve’s heart skipped a beat, and she wasn’t prepared for the warmth that spread through her at his words.

She raised an eyebrow, suddenly piecing everything together. “Wait a minute—don’t tell me you were the one behind those secret admirer notes?”

“Guilty as charged,” Terry said with a grin. “Figured I owed you a snow globe after all these years.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You took my snow globe? I looked everywhere for that thing!”

“I didn’t take it,” Terry admitted, a guilty grin tugging at his lips. “But I did break it.”

Eve gasped, her hand flying to her chest as though he’d confessed to a grand crime. “You broke it?”

“It was an accident!” Terry quickly added, his chuckles softening the blow. “Your dad called you downstairs, and I got a little too close to the shelf. Next thing I know—glass shattering, glitter flying—everything was on the floor.”

Eve laughed, shaking her head, already picturing her younger self stomping around in frustration. But now, the whole situation seemed almost too ridiculous not to laugh about. “How’d you manage to hide it from me?”

“I cleaned it up quick and grabbed a towel from your bathroom. It was fine—except for the glitter. That stuff was everywhere—on the floor, on my hands. But since you never said anything, I figured I got away with it.”

“Terry Richmond,” Eve said with a playful squint, “You’re a whole mess!”

“But I made it right, didn’t I?” His smile was a slow, satisfied curve, his blue-green eyes sparkling with the joy of being so close to her again. “And when I saw that look on your face—”

“Wait, hold up,” Eve interrupted, her eyes narrowing playfully, “You were there yesterday?”

"Guess I forgot to mention it. We're coworkers now. I’m the head of security," He leaned back, his eyes locking with hers. "Been around, making sure everything’s tight," he added with a half-smile. He didn’t mention how he'd been keeping an eye on her from the cameras, just to make sure she was safe from all those corporate threats: staples, paper cuts, and heavy boxes…you know, the dangerous stuff. "It might sound crazy, but I couldn’t come at you until I knew I had made things right between us."

“That damn snow globe,” she mused, a smile tugging at her lips. Who would’ve thought her favorite childhood trinket would be the thing that brought her favorite person back? She reached out, taking his hands across the table. “I would’ve been glad to see you, no matter what.” He squeezed her hands, remembering the nervous flutter in his chest when he’d placed his bid on that snow globe. He wanted her to have it, and he didn’t hold back. “I know. But you deserve that—and so much more.”

Eve rolled her eyes playfully, though there was a flicker of something else in her gaze. “Cut it out with the compliments,” she teased, leaning back in her seat. “I’m gonna be walking around with a big head at this rate.”

“You already got a big—”

“—Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Terrence.”

They slipped into a comfortable rhythm, their banter flowing like it had never skipped a beat. It felt like no time had passed at all, like he’d never left and she’d never hidden the soft spot she’d always had for him. It was clear he still didn’t realize how deep her feelings for him ran. Still, something told her this Christmas was going to be one she’d never forget.

“We should do this again sometime,” Terry suggested as they walked back to the office, his tone casual but the hint of something more lingering in the air.

“Definitely,” Eve replied, but her thoughts drifted back to the past, to all the things she’d buried. The what-ifs. The could-have-beens. For now, though, she was content. Whatever this was, it was enough—for now.

“How about tonight?” Terry surprised her, his voice bringing her back to the moment. “We could grab some dinner, or I can bring something over. You still love that fried rice from Gogi Grill, right?” He grinned, already knowing the answer. Eve had always been a creature of habit when it came to good food. She stopped in her tracks, a smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe you remember! Of course I still love their fried rice.” She stressed the word love, making sure he heard it loud and clear. “And the—”

“—vegetable spring rolls. Yeah, I know.”

“That sounds so good.” she grinned, feeling a spark of excitement.

“What time works for you?” he asked, already getting his phone out. “I’ll bring it all.”

“Eight?” she replied, figuring that gave her just enough time to get home, unwind, and freshen up.

“I’ll be there at eight. Let me get your phone so I can save my number, and you can text me your new address.”

They walked back toward her desk, and Terry promised to see her later. The rest of the afternoon dragged, Eve barely getting any work done as her mind wandered, fixated on what was coming next. The second five o'clock hit, she nearly bolted out of the office. At home, she was a whirlwind—tidying, organizing, putting everything in order. By the time the doorbell rang, she had just slipped into a comfy graphic tee and yoga pants. No need to impress him—this was Terry.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she greeted with a grin, stretching her arms wide as Terry’s gaze swept over her. She almost convinced herself she was imagining it.

“Feel free to bring the food to the living room. I’ve got plates and bean bags set up if that’s cool with you.”

“Works for me,” Terry replied, setting down the bags of food. As he dished out their plates, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, uncorking it and pouring them each a glass.

“You still watch those cheesy romance flicks?” Terry teased, flipping through the channels with a smirk.

“No,” she replied a little too quickly, though, she definitely did.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You don’t have to front for me. I know you too well.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re right. Can’t hide anything from you.” They eventually landed on a BET romance about a doctor secretly in love with his best friend, and Eve couldn’t help but notice the irony of it all. She thought about asking him to change the channel but decided against it, instead letting out a long sigh, a wave of longing she couldn’t quite explain washing over her.

“What’s wrong?” Terry’s voice softened with concern.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, trying to brush it off, but his eyes told her he wasn’t buying it.

“Something’s on your mind,” he pressed gently. “Is it the food? Or something else?”

“Definitely not the food,” Eve answered, “I guess I’m just not feelin’ the movie. It’s... a little too cheesy, even for me.” Normally, these kinds of stories made her feel all warm and fuzzy, but tonight, it just hit differently—like a reminder of the things she might never have, especially with the man she’d always wanted sitting right next to her, still oblivious to her feelings.

“Really? I think it’s kind of sweet,” he said, and Eve froze mid-bite.

“Sweet? What’s gotten into you?” she teased, her eyebrows arched.

He shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “When you like it, it’s romantic. But when I do, something’s gotta be wrong?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Man, every time I made you watch one of these back in the day, you complained the whole time,” she teased, her smirk growing.

“That was a long time ago. I was just a kid then. I’m a grown man now,” he shot back, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

She looked him over, feeling the weight of his words in a way she hadn’t expected. “Alright, grown man,” she teased, trying to mask the sudden shift in her chest. “Guess it just threw me off, that’s all.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, his tone a little more challenging now.

“Because you were never the romantic type,” she said, but even as the words left her mouth, her heart couldn’t help but wonder if that had changed.

“How do you know that?” he shot back, his question hanging in the air like it meant something more. Eve felt a small pang in her chest. Maybe it was silly, but Terry always had a way of getting under her skin.

“I guess I don’t know, Terry,” she admitted quietly. “You’re right. I wouldn’t know what kind of romantic you are. You’ve always treated me like family.” The last words came out with a little more weight than she intended, a quiet bitterness lingering at the edges of her voice. She didn’t want to admit it, but it still stung.

Terry leaned in a little closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she wasn’t used to. “Only because I didn’t know how to be romantic back then,” he said, his voice dropping to something more vulnerable. “Didn’t know how to flirt, didn’t know how to say what I felt.”

Her breath caught, a sudden heat creeping up her neck as he continued, his voice lower now, more serious. “I treated you the only way I knew how. Walked you home every day, carried your bag, made sure to save some of my mama’s fried dumplings for you. It might not have been flowers or poems, but I thought I was making it clear.”

Eve blinked, feeling the floor beneath her shift. “Terry, what are you saying?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, but her mind was already racing—was he really saying what she thought he was?

“I always liked you, Evie. Always,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I thought... I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Her cheeks flushed deep, a rush of heat flooding her face at his words. The weight of the confession hit her in waves, stirring up feelings she'd buried for so long. "That’s not true. I was into you, too—really into you."

Terry’s eyes widened with surprise, a small smile breaking through as he processed her words. “But you were with Keith. You got engaged.” He’d seen the engagement photos on social media, and it had torn him up inside. Took everything not to call her phone and tell her she was making a mistake. But he’d convinced himself that the right thing to do would be to step back and let her find happiness without him.

She exhaled slowly, her throat tight with emotion. "He asked me to be his girlfriend... and later, to marry him. At the time, I thought it was what I was supposed to do. You were gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to tell you how I really felt," she said, her voice quieter now, as if the words were heavy. "I convinced myself that if I just moved on, I could forget you."

“Are you telling me,” Terry’s laugh was low, almost incredulous, but there was a warmth behind it—like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “that we both felt this way all along, and I just didn’t see it?”

Eve let out a breath, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, Terry. I think we both did.”

“Evie,” he began, his voice soft, almost reverent. His hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers—a touch so light it made her heart stutter. “All these years…” Her breath hitched. She didn’t pull back, but she wasn’t sure how to step forward either. 

Memories flooded her mind, sharp and vivid as if they’d happened yesterday—walking home together in the rain, Terry draping his jacket over her head to protect her crown. Splitting a basket of wings at the local chicken spot after school, making do with whatever change they could scrape together. His loud, carefree laugh always chasing away her bad days, like he could make the world feel right again without even trying. Those moments weren’t just the past, they were the foundation of everything they’d ever been. Terry had always been there, steady as sunrise, holding it down in ways she didn’t know how to name back then. 

His thumb brushed the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of her skin. He leaned in just a little, his gaze searching hers, the air between them thick with longing. “Evie,” he whispered, his voice gentle but heavy with desire. “Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes flickered down to his lips before she gave a subtle nod. 

With a tenderness that made her heart race, Terry cupped her face in his hands and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. They were softer than he’d imagined, and she let out a breathy sigh that sent a wave of warmth through him. His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips with a gentle squeeze as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet, like dark chocolate and candy canes—the kind of holiday goodies she loved, and now he couldn’t help but love them, too. Pulling away slowly, his gaze softened, serious now. “Evie, I’m not looking for something temporary. I want something real. Something lasting. Not just for the holidays or a good time.”He let the words hang in the air, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. “This—us—I don't want it to be just another chapter in my life.”

"Terry," Eve whispered, her hand resting gently on his chest before sliding up to cup his face. "This is a lot… all at once. Before we go any further, I need to know we’re really on the same page." Her voice trembled slightly, her guard creeping back up. It wasn’t easy learning to trust again, to let her heart stay open after everything she’d been through. And with Terry... there was no way her heart wouldn’t get tangled up in this. As much as he hated the idea of stepping back, Terry understood where she was coming from. She wasn’t wrong—they had too much history to rush into something without thinking it through. Their lives were intertwined in so many ways: mutual friends, their parents practically family. He nodded, his voice steady and sincere. “I hear you, Evie. I got you. We’ll take this slow—whatever feels right for you.”

In the days that followed, Terry found any excuse to be around Eve. He’d joke about “checking the perimeter” at work, but really, he just wanted to be near her—catching glimpses of her at her desk, looking effortlessly stunning in those blue-light blocking glasses and preppy business casual outfits. He’d leave her little treats—those chocolate “kisses” she couldn’t resist—and sticky notes filled with jokes or random facts to make her smile. And sometimes, he'd offer to grab office supplies for her, like highlighters or paper clips, even though she could easily pick them up herself. It was his way of staying close, of showing her that he was there.

His presence didn’t go unnoticed. The women in the office—Ms. Ruby especially—seemed to flock to Eve’s desk, trying to catch a glimpse of Terry, pretending they needed something just for the chance to see him up close.

“I’m gonna tell Mr. Charles on you,” Eve teased Ms. Ruby one morning, grinning.

“What he don’t know won’t hurt him, baby,” Ms. Ruby shot back with a wink, fanning herself as she smirked. “I’m just lookin’. Ain’t no harm in that.”

Eve and Terry started syncing their lunches, making sure to carve out time outside of the office to be together. Eve introduced him to her favorite local deli, where he quickly became hooked on the sandwiches and pasta salad. One afternoon, they shared a plate of injera at an Ethiopian restaurant while Terry told stories about an Ethiopian guy he’d served with, their laughter filling the space between them as they reconnected and deepened their bond. Throughout it all, Terry was the perfect gentleman—opening doors, pulling out her chair, and offering her bites of whatever he was eating, especially when they ordered different dishes. It was those little moments, the simple kindness in his gestures, that made her heart swell and open to the possibility of a real future with him.

Even though Terry was crashing at his mom’s place until he found his own, most evenings, he was at hers. They’d curl up on her couch, the TV left forgotten as they lost themselves in each other—kissing, cuddling, fingers tracing over bare skin. No distractions, no rush—just being together. On those nights, Terry shared more stories from his time in the service, each one peeling back another layer of the man she was just beginning to rediscover. In return, she recounted the ups and downs of her college years—laughing over the good times and the challenges. She filled him in on her sisters, Joy and Noelle, and how they had both started families of their own. They laughed about how her brother, Emmanuelle, still couldn’t resist sticking his nose into everyone’s business, despite being engaged to the woman of his dreams.

Terry told her about his mom—how much she’d been enjoying having him back at home. She’d been lonely since his dad passed, and had tried to fill that void with "friends" who never quite measured up to Terry Sr. Eve could hear the love and concern in his voice, the way he cared for his mom’s well-being, even as he juggled his own life. Life hadn’t slowed down while they’d been apart, but now, with Terry back in her life, everything felt like it was falling into place.

Moving forward together felt just right, so Eve invited Terry and his mom, Gloria, to join her family for Christmas. It had been three whirlwind weeks since the Secret Santa exchange, but she couldn’t imagine celebrating her favorite holiday without him. Her mom was overjoyed to hear that Terry was back in town, and her dad—true to his warm, welcoming nature—was all for it, always saying, the more, the merrier. Gloria didn’t hesitate to accept, admitting it had been far too long since she’d seen the Dillards and even longer since she’d enjoyed a big family Christmas.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the doorbell rang, and Eve opened it to find Terry standing on the porch, holding a foil-covered pan in one hand and shrink-wrapped sweet potato pies in the other. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and navy blue slacks. Beside him, his mother, Gloria, was glowing—decked out in a vibrant red outfit with jingle bell earrings that softly jingled as she smiled warmly.

The sight of them, so full of the holiday spirit, made Eve’s heart swell with warmth.

“You didn’t have to bring anything, Ms. Gloria!” Eve said, smiling brightly.

“I always bake too many pies, baby, you know that,” Gloria replied with a wink. “At least they won’t go to waste this year.”

Eve chuckled, stepping aside to let them in. The moment the door swung closed, a mouthwatering scent filled the air, rich with the familiar, savory spices that brought her back to her childhood. Her eyes landed on the pan in Terry’s hands. “And what’s that?” she asked, voice filled with eager curiosity.

“What you think?” Terry grinned.

“Fried dumplings?”

“Fried up just the way you like them—crispy and golden,” he confirmed.

Eve couldn’t help herself—she did a little happy dance right there in the doorway, which sent Gloria into a fit of laughter.

“I made them just for you, sweet girl,” Gloria said, grinning. “I remember how much you loved these back in the day.”

“You’re the best, Ms. Gloria,” Eve said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Not a crumb of this is going to waste, I swear.”

Before Gloria could respond, a loud, familiar voice rang out from deeper inside the house. “Richmond!” Eve’s brother, Emmanuelle, appeared in the hallway, grinning wide. He made his way over to Terry, pulling him into a big, tight hug and giving him a friendly slap on the back. Terry adjusted the pan in his hand, leaning into the embrace. “Man, where you been at?”

Terry smirked, taking in the scene. “Right where I’m supposed to be, I guess.”

“Well, good to see you back, bro. Ain’t nobody here that can keep up with me on Uno except you.”

Emmanuelle’s loud greeting drew the rest of the family in like a magnet. Within moments, the entire Dillard crew had swarmed around Terry, wrapping him in hugs, back slaps, and warm greetings from every direction. Eve’s dad pulled him into a big rocking hug, her mom gave his shoulders a quick, affectionate pat, and her sisters squeezed him between chasing their toddlers, who zipped around the living room like little caffeinated elves, clearly hyped up on holiday treats. Terry soaked it all in. The Dillard house had always been full of life, and it was a relief to see that hadn’t changed. Some things were different, sure, but the love and warmth that mattered most were just the same.

“Let me take that off your hands, bruh,” Emmanuelle said, reaching for the pan. “I’ll put it with the rest of the food.”

“Uh-uh!” Eve cut in, snatching the pan before he could touch it. “You’re not slick.”

“Slick?” Emmanuelle raised a brow. “Girl, you that greedy? You can’t even trust me to take a pan to the kitchen?”

“I can’t trust you, period,” Eve shot back. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in close. “Especially when I know you helped break my snow globe.”

Emmanuelle’s face twisted as he tried to recall what she was talking about.

“I know it was you,” she added, her eyes narrowing.

He smirked and turned to Terry. “You told her, man?”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t say a word. You just outed yourself.” He hadn’t revealed that he was shoved into the shelf, choosing to shield the younger man from being implicated in the "crime."

Emmanuelle shook his head, laughing. “That’s foul, sis. You really out here holding on to something from a over decade ago just to call me out? You oughta be ashamed. All this over some food? You that greedy?”

“I have to be!” Eve shot back. “I’ve been dealing with you my whole life. Ashley, I don’t know how you handle this man. He’s been eating entire meals by himself since he was ten.”

Ashley, Emmanuelle’s fiancé, strolled by, tossing her husband a look. “Girl, I just cook double and call it a day.” The room erupted into laughter as the family buzzed around them, settling into the lively chaos that made Christmas at the Dillard house unforgettable.

An hour later, everyone gathered around the table, plates piled high with Christmas Eve dishes: smothered chicken over rice, cabbage cooked with bacon, buttery rolls, and generous helpings of Ms. Gloria’s Carribbean spiced dumplings. The real feast—the honey-glazed ham, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, smoked turkey, and sautéed okra—was waiting for Christmas Day. But tonight, this was more than enough. They joined hands and bowed their heads as the family prayed, offering blessings for their health, happiness, and the year to come.

“So, Terry, when’d you get back, bruh?” Emmanuelle asked, already halfway through a second helping of chicken and rice.

“Been about seven weeks. Almost two months now,” Terry replied, taking a sip of sweet tea.

“What?” Emmanuelle looked up, fork in midair. “Why ain’t I seen you yet?”

“I’ve been laying low,” Terry said. “Getting used to civilian life again.”

Emmanuelle turned to Eve with a mock-serious expression. “Evie, why didn’t you tell me my boy was back?”

She shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I didn’t even know he was back until a couple of weeks ago."

From the corner of her eye, Eve noticed her sisters straightening up, ears clearly tuned in. She knew that look—they smelled tea brewing. When she didn’t respond right away, Emmanuelle leaned in, fanning the flames.

“How’d y’all reconnect anyway?” he asked, eyes narrowed playfully.

Eve cleared her throat, keeping her tone light but firm. “We work together now.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but she could see her brother’s curiosity growing. The last thing she needed was for her family to get too nosy about her and Terry. It wasn’t that she was hiding anything, but it was still too early for outside opinions to complicate things.

“Oh, okay, so you saw him at the office,” Emmanuelle said, smirking. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why are you grilling me, E-Man?” Eve shot back, raising a brow.

“Grilling? I’m just asking questions!”

“Terry, what are you doing at the company?” her mom, Diane, chimed in, cutting through the sibling banter.

“Security,” Terry replied, pausing to wipe his mouth. “Keeping the building safe and making sure everything runs smooth.”

Joy, one of Eve’s sisters, leaned back with a sly smile. “Didn’t know the corporate world was so dangerous,” she teased, sipping her spiked sweet tea. “Bet all the ladies in the office are feeling extra secure with you around."

Eve shot her a warning look, but Terry didn’t flinch.

“It’s not really about danger,” he explained. “It’s more about protecting sensitive info. Everything’s a target these days.” He paused, letting his words settle as he caught the curious looks around the table. “But it’s a good change of pace from the military. I like it. Plus, I’m saving up to start my own private security firm someday. I want to give other brothers coming out of the service a chance to transition into something solid. Help them find their footing again.”

The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over them.

“That’s solid, bro,” Emmanuelle said, giving a nod of approval. “We need more folks doing that. Respect, man.”

Eve caught herself smiling at him, a quiet pride swelling inside her as she watched how effortlessly he commanded respect from everyone at the table. She’d seen it in the weeks since they’d reconnected—the way his presence shifted the energy in any room. People either stepped aside or flocked to him, drawn to his quiet confidence. He set the tone, and it was so damn attractive. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice how the affection lighting up her face hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the room.

“Well, are you single, Terry?” her father, Ed, asked without missing a beat. He’d always had a feeling there was something between his little Eve and the Richmond boy. He’d sensed it even back when Terry was still too young and unsure to act on it. But the man sitting in front of him now was someone he could respect—someone he could trust with his baby girl.

“Dad!” Eve protested, her face flushing. But before she could say another word, Gloria, Terry’s mom, jumped in with a playful grin.

“He sure is!” Gloria chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Terry shot his mom a look of surprise.

“Really?” Diane, Eve’s mom, asked, raising an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Eve’s siblings were doing their best to hide their snickering. Eve’s little niece sat on Noelle’s lap, eyes wide, watching the exchange with interest.

“You know, Evie’s single too,” Diane added with a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself.

“Mommy—”

“I’m just saying, baby,” Diane said, holding her hands up in mock innocence. The room fell into an expectant silence, all eyes locked on them.

Eve shot Terry a look, shaking her head. Their families just couldn’t resist stirring the pot. She thought, Black folks and their matchmaking. Terry grinned and casually draped an arm over the back of her chair, giving her a look that said, Forget it. Might as well lean into it now. Several sets of eyes snapped in their direction, keen to catch every little moment.

Eve and Terry exchanged a quiet glance, a wordless conversation passing between them before she finally decided to rip the Band-Aid off. “Well, since you’re all in my business,” Eve said with a sigh, “Terry and I have been seeing each other. Just a little while, though. We’re taking it slow.”

It was like a buzzer went off at a championship basketball game—everyone erupted with hoots, hollers, and excited chatter.

“I knew it!”

“Talking ‘bout I’m not slick– girl, you not slick!”

“That’s why she been dodging my calls!”

Terry’s mom elbowed him playfully, her face lighting up with a grin. “Why you didn’t tell me, baby?” She’d suspected something was up with all the late hours he had been keeping, but she’d kept quiet, not wanting to push him too fast. Now, though, seeing the joy on his face, she couldn’t help but be happy for them. 

Terry looked at his mom, his expression softening as he took in her beaming face. It had been too long since he’d seen her this genuinely happy. He gently covered her hand with his own. “We’re still getting to know each other again, Mama. Taking it slow, ‘cause we want to do it right. Didn’t want to tell anyone too soon, or get your hopes up, just in case.”

“It’ll work out,” Gloria said with a smile that was both warm and knowing. “You’re just like your daddy—considerate, kind, protective, dependable. You’re a good man. Anybody would be lucky to have you in their life. And Eve, she’s a great girl. The best, if you ask me. She knows you for who you are, flaws and all. She’s solid, knows herself, and she’s the kind of woman you want by your side. Y’all can make it work, if you both want to…”

Terry’s gaze drifted to the back of Eve’s head as she laughed and talked with her family, fully in her element. It was magnetic. He couldn’t help but think, She’s the one.

“…and I suspect you do.”

Eve caught snippets of the conversation between Terry and her mom, her own voice blending with the chatter around her. “Yeah, mama, we’ll make it,” she heard Terry say, his voice steady, confident.

“You calling it a night after this? Heading home?” Eve asked when her family finally gave her a break from answering questions.

“That wasn’t really the plan.” Terry smirked, his gaze steady on hers. 

Bet, she thought, fighting the urge to grab his hand and tell everyone they were out.

After dinner, they exchanged Christmas Eve gifts with the family. Eve had gotten Terry a new tactical backpack for his camping trips. He’d mentioned before how much he loved getting away to the woods, disconnecting from the world, and reconnecting with nature. She also picked out a cute elephant trinket for his mom, a nod to Ms. Gloria’s sorority, representing strength and resilience. In return, Terry had gifted her parents a beautifully wood-burned sign that read Dillard Family Home. Her parents adored it, and her dad wasted no time putting Terry to work, hanging it up above the door.

Her nieces and nephews tore through their gifts from Uncle Emmanuelle, too big for them to manage on their own, immediately enlisting the adults to help set up toys, insert batteries, and get the noise blasting from their new gadgets. Eve played the dutiful auntie, pitching in to help get the kids settled before she attempted to make a quiet exit, a little earlier than usual.

Her sisters weren’t letting her off that easy, though. They cornered her near the foyer while Terry helped his mom put on her shoes. “No you don’t, girl,” Noelle whispered, with a mischievous grin, while she and Joy surrounded Eve like two sharks on the hunt.

Eve tried to play it cool. “We need to get Ms. Gloria home before it gets too late.”

Joy leaned in close, her voice dripping with teasing. “Girl, please. We already know what’s up. After you drop Ms. Gloria off, you’re gonna be right back with Terry. I been sneaking around long before you even started.”

Eve rolled her eyes, trying to keep it moving while they giggled behind her.

Terry quickly helped his mom settle into her house while Eve sat in the car, fidgeting in the seat, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. When he stepped back outside into the crisp evening air, she reminded herself to get it together. It’s just Terry. 

The whole ride felt charged, the air between them thick with unspoken words, teetering on the edge of something both of them were ready to step into. Eve caught herself stealing glances at Terry, her stomach flipping each time his fingers drummed on the steering wheel or his lips twitched into a half-smile. By the time they reached the family home and she slid into her car, she could barely keep her composure. The drive back to her place was a blur of thoughts, her heartbeat drowning out the soft hum of Christmas music on the radio. Enough. Enough holding back.

When Terry knocked on her door a little while later, she didn’t hesitate. She opened it, grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside. Without a word, she led him to her room. The space was warm and inviting–signature seasonal scents wafted through the air, and a small four-foot tree twinkled in the corner. Low, sultry R&B Christmas classics filled the room, the perfect soundtrack for everything she wasn’t saying.

“Sit,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure, gesturing to the bed. She opened her bedside drawer, pulled out a small gold-foiled packet, and placed it on the comforter beside him. “I know what I want. I want you. I want us.”

She stepped between his legs, loving the way his strong hands explored the curve of her back and sides as their lips met.  She’d had a quick sip of wine while waiting for him, just enough to quiet her nerves. The lingering warmth of it heightened every sensation, making her feel energized and bold. She gently cradled Terry’s head against her chest, her breaths coming soft and uneven as she tried to steady herself.

“I’ve been all in, Eve,” he said, his voice low and unshakable. “Always.”

She let her fingers trail along his warm skin, grounding herself in the reality of him—not just the fantasy she’d kept alive in her mind. Terry was the dangerous kind of handsome, the kind that should come with a warning label. He kissed her softly at first, but his touch grew more demanding and insistent as she shed her clothes. Eve straddled his lap, moving closer, spurred on by the way he held her—like she was precious, worth cherishing, and meant to be kept all to himself.

“You’re safe with me,” Terry promised, his lips brushing her ear. “Always.”

And she believed him. She melted into his touch, surrendering to the intoxicating thrill—and the quiet fear—of letting herself fall. Of trusting. Of daring to believe this could be the start of something real, as he effortlessly flipped them so that he was on top. "Thought about you like this," she admitted softly, helping him lift his shirt over his head to reveal the firm contours of his abdomen. "On top of me, just like this."

Terry's gaze locked on hers, dark and intense. 

“Tell me what else you thought about,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. He wanted her to let whatever she was feeling spill out. Eve was usually guarded, always careful with how much she gave, but now, with him, she didn’t hold back.

She reached down, her fingers curling around his dick through his boxers. "I’ve been thinking about this," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "What you’d feel like... what it would be like to have you inside me. I’ve waited so long... I almost don’t want to ruin the fantasy." She teased, biting her bottom lip, a playful spark in her eyes. She could feel it—the way that set him on fire. Terry felt his control slipping. Every part of him was primed, ready to unleash it all on her. "Pull it out and see for yourself." 

Eve wrapped both hands around him, her touch slow and deliberate, as her fingers explored every inch. She gasped softly at how hot and heavy he felt, even thicker she had realized. "God," she whispered, feeling her body respond to the sensation of him in her hand. Her mind raced with thoughts of him slapping that fat tip against her clit. She imagined how he’d feel inside her—wondering if he’d be slow and methodical, or more rushed and rough. Either way, she knew she wouldn’t mind.

Above her, Terry’s breath caught as he tugged his boxers down, guiding her hand to him more firmly. His chest rose and fell as his mind tried to stay clear. She glanced up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes. Spitting a thick glob into her hand, she spread it over him with slow, deliberate strokes. Her eyes never left his, watching him unravel under her touch. His face was tight, eyes flickering between her movements and the ceiling as he groaned softly. The sound stirred something deep inside her.

"You want me to take you in my mouth?" she whispered, her voice soft and sweet, as if she were asking the simplest question in the world.

Terry couldn’t respond immediately. His mind was lost in the heat of the moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on. But when her fingers traced over his balls, kneading them with a slow, firm touch, he couldn’t stop the groan that slipped from his lips. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his dick, her puckered lips gliding sensually over the slick skin. “It’s so beautiful, baby. Thick, too.” She giggled, enjoying the way his hips stuttered when she tongued the leaky tip.

“You’re actin’ up,” Terry groaned, his breath shaky. With one swift movement, he shifted onto his knees, lining himself up with her mouth. “Open up,” he urged, his voice low with desire. He couldn’t wait any longer. Terry fed her his length, hissing loudly when her mouth closed around him, hot and wet. “Mmm... That’s exactly what I want.” 

Eve surprised him by staring into his eyes as she worked her mouth around his length, brown eyes captivating him like a spell. Her hands moved over him, soft yet taunting until he was powerless under touch. 

"You’re gorgeous, you know that?"

"Yes, baby, keep working those hands—just like that."

“You’re perfect, Evie.” 

Terry groaned, his blue-green eyes locked on her. He could hardly believe he had the girl of his dreams under him, ready and willing to please him. "Nobody’s perfect, but I’ll take the compliment." Eve paused, her hands gently running over him as she caught her breath, wetness gathering around the corners of her mouth.

Terry tugged at her bra strap, his voice low with need. “Take this off.” She shifted, unhooking it, and letting it fall to her lap. He stroked himself, remembering the night she let him play with her titties on her couch. He was worked up from all the kissing with no follow through, and she offered to help him release some of that tension. He kissed her breasts while she sighed and worked her hips against him. He tasted her nipples and she arched her back for more. He teased them with his fingers and his mouth, pinching and tugging until she was rocking back and forth in his lap. She panted while he held her in place, thrusting his dick up into her clothed core until they were both coming in their clothes. He almost stayed that night. She clung to him afterward, silently pleading for him to end their self-imposed misery. It took every ounce of restraint for him to leave, but he couldn’t let her body make a choice her mind wasn’t ready to make. Now, he had no more reasons to resist.

“Lay back,” He ordered, shifting to straddle her waist. The new angle had him right where he wanted to be. Close enough to stroke himself against her soft skin and watch the way she responded to him.

"You want to let it all out, don’t you?" She licked her lips, watching his dick twitch in his hand. "I can see it in your eyes. Looks like it's killing you." The tip was an angry red shade. His balls were drawn tight. Her clit pulsed with desire. “You ain’t gotta hold back with me. I want everything.” She promised, her voice soft and alluring, as if she could sense his every need. Terry’s breath hitched, his control slipping. Every part of him was drawn to her. 

“You’re gonna make me lose it, baby.” Terry’s voice was low, a growl in the back of his throat. He couldn’t think straight, especially when she took him into her mouth again, the heat sending him into a frenzy. Her hands slid over her own body, teasing her breasts the way he liked as she felt the fire building in her. The way he reacted, panting and whimpering pushed her even closer to the edge. “Hold up–” He started, but she was insistent, forcing her throat down his length until she was gagging. Terry’s body jerked above her, and he spilled warm cum into her mouth and then onto her plump breasts without warning. “Fuck, Evie,” He groaned as she chased him with her mouth. He’d meant to warn her, but that greedy little mouth of hers was too tempting. He fell into place next to her, catching his breath. She didn’t seem to care about the mess. In fact, she looked pleased with herself, giggling as he apologized lowly. She told him there was no need. 

"You know we don’t have to pretend with each other, right?" She asked, sensually rubbing his seed into her skin. He watched her slow, seductive movements, wondering how he got so lucky. 

“You’re wild.” He felt his dick stirring to life again. “Sit on my face,” he ordered, guiding her to squat above his head. 

"This position is new for me," she confessed, feeling a flutter of excitement in her belly. “You don’t have to do anything but relax,” Terry hooked his arms under her leg and held her in place. “Leave the work to me,” Terry pulled her down, keeping a firm grip on her legs as he licked between them. At first, it was tentative, a slow exploration as he took his time learning her body, what made her sigh and moan. But soon, desire took over, and he became more urgent, more greedy. She ran her hand over his head, experimenting with the sensation of moving her hips. 

“That feels so good,” She whimpered, loving the leverage the position gave her. Terry seemed perfectly attuned to her every reaction, adjusting his moves based on what made her shiver or sigh. She shut her eyes and quickened her rhythm, breathing heavily with pleasure. With a smirk, Terry took a moment to tease her. “You like when I lick your pussy like this?”

“Yes!”

“Keep grindin’ this wet pussy on my face.”

Eve whimpered.

He encouraged her to move her hips faster with soft taps to her ass. She trembled, unable to focus on anything other than the way his tongue felt. Her eyes drifted down to the sight of him between her legs. “Don’t stop–please don’t stop,” She mewled, no longer in control of her own body. It felt like watching a train wreck, knowing something earth-shattering was coming, but being powerless to stop it. “Terry, please!” She gripped the sheets as hard as her fists would allow, crying out as she reached her peak. 

Terry spoke, his voice a low hum as he repositioned her, but she was too dazed to make sense of anything, still floating back down to Earth.

“You good, Princess?”

She blinked, trying to focus as his face came back into view. "Huh?"

Terry chuckled softly, and she buried her face in his neck, letting her body relax against him.

"Evie?"

She felt his hands slide over her back.

"Hmm?"

"You ain’t about to pass out on me, are you?"

"I’m trying not to..." But he kept gently coaxing her, luring her toward sleep with tender kisses and soft whispers. “But you’re tempting me.” She warned, feeling his dick harden against her stomach all over again. 

She sat up on her knees, rubbing her eyes as she looked at him. "How do you want me?" 

"You’re too cute." He said, patting her bottom softly. “Come get in my lap.”

Terry kissed her sweetly, his dick hardening and prodding at her backside. She reached back to touch it, feeling that it was hard as steel and slick, all over again. “Wow,” She laughed softly between their kisses, feeling the intensity of his desire. “You can't get enough of me, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read, the playful tension turning into something more serious. “I want you to know I thought about you every day I was gone. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Imagining you like this... all mine.” He gently smoothed his hands along the sides of her hair, trying to tame the wild curls that had grown bigger with all the sweating and rolling around. “I’d lie on my cot, seeing your face in my mind. Every night.”

"Terry… you really shouldn’t say things like that," she said, her voice soft with sudden shyness.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He challenged. Eve swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze. Terry had a way of making her feel seen, like all her walls had been torn down, yet she was safe. She took a breath, reminding herself that she could let her heart lead with him. 

"Because I'm falling for you and when you say things like that, it makes it so much harder for me to keep it together."

“Why are you acting like you gotta fight this, Eve?” He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s us.” He took her hands in his, stilling them. 

“What if I told you I feel the same way?” She could hardly believe he was saying the words she had wanted to hear over a decade ago. Even if this was some strangely vivid dream she’d drummed up as a result of her Christmas Blues, she wanted to soak in every word, every moment. “I love you, Eve Dillard. I’ve loved you for a long time. I’m sure of it. More than anything else in this world.”

“Terry Richmond...” She started, almost at a loss for words. Hearing him declare it so openly made her feel like she was floating in the clouds. “I love you too.”

“Yeah? You sure?” He teased. 

“Uh huh,” She hummed, feeling his fingers splay across her thighs.

“I wanna show you how much. Can I?"

She nodded.

“You want me, Evie?” 

She nodded her head. 

His hand landed firmly on her ass, and she let out a startled whimper as she lurched forward in his arms. The sound shot straight to his dick. "You gotta let me know, sweetheart." 

“Yes, I want you, Terry. All of you.” 

Eve didn’t know what was possessing her, making her so open and submissive. She told Terry he was everything she’d ever dreamed of and that she couldn’t imagine a future without him. He told her she didn’t have to. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself as he alternated smacks on both sides of her ass until he was satisfied and lining himself up at her entrance. Her mouth fell open as he pushed his way inside. “Fuck,” Terry cursed as she clutched his arms with that shocked look on her face. He kissed her lips and then her jaw, all tender and sweet. “You’re okay. I got you,” He promised, groaning when she began to open up for him. His large hands slid down her body, settling over her hips as he began lifting her up and down on his dick. Eve buried her face in his neck, biting her lip as Terry slammed into her. He grunted his satisfaction as she dripped down his length and made a mess.

“You feel so good, Evie.”

“Squeezing me so tight.”

“All mine.”

“Give it to me, Princess.”

His words pushed her closer to the edge until she could hardly breathe, gripping his neck and shoulders like he was her lifeline. “You’re drivin’ me crazy!” She moaned into his ear, her walls squeezing around his dick. “Good,” Terry grunted, “That's how I want you. Crazy about me and this dick.” Her eyes rolled back as he pumped his hips harder, the strain in his voice evident. “You were made for this dick, just like I was made for this perfect little pussy.” He poked something inside of her that made her holler. But Terry was shushing her, holding her tight to his chest and cooing in her ear. "Let it happen, baby. I got you. I know what you need. You can take it."

She placed her hands flat against his chest. His grip on her hips were still iron tight. "C’mon now, Evie. Be good to me. You wanna make me feel good, don’t you?" His words worked the way he intended. She surrendered, laying her head across his shoulders and holding on for dear life as he worked her over. "That’s it, baby. I told you you were perfect. How you feel now?"

She dug her nails into his skin and concentrated on keeping her eyes from crossing. You know how it feels, you bastard! She thought, but the only words spilling out of her mouth were sweet and agreeable. She told him how good he felt, how no one else had ever made her feel that way, and that she wanted him to make her feel that way for the rest of their lives. He told her that he loved her and she was the only one for him. She cried, warm teardrops spilling over his skin as she came, yelling his name. Terry held her in place, capturing her lips in another long kiss as he finished, wishing there was nothing in between them.

Eve’s head rested against Terry’s chest, her body limp from exhaustion. Breathless and completely satisfied, they stayed close for several minutes, catching their breath. Slowly, Terry began to stir, pressing a soft kiss to her damp forehead.

"You good, mama?"

“Mhm,” She mumbled, nuzzling into his neck. “I'm just...worn out." She said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Me too,” Terry admitted, his hand caressing her back softly. He never wanted this moment to end. When she opened her eyes again, his gaze was on her, focused and intense. It took her breath away.

“Why you looking at me like that?” 

“Take a guess,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She didn’t need to guess. Everything between them—every unspoken desire—was no longer hanging in the balance. It had all become real. Her thoughts wandered to the future—wedding rings, little feet running around. “You want to marry me and have five babies?” she teased, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

Terry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “You think that’s funny, huh?” She shrugged, her fingers gently tracing his jawline, “Guess I’m funny and fine.” His smile widened, his gaze filled with something unreadable. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Her fingers gently caressed his mustache, her voice a soft whisper as she murmured, "I love you, Terry. I really do."

"I love you too, Evie.”

2025

Christmas Eve had always been special, but this year, Terry was determined to make it unforgettable.

Eve turned away from the window where she’d been watching the snow fall gently outside. It was a rare sight in the South, a phenomenon that only happened once or twice a decade, and she cherished every second of it. Terry had left her by the window, disappearing into the bedroom, only to return a few moments later, standing by the gas fireplace with a small, neatly wrapped box in his hands.

“What you over there scheming?” she teased with a curious smile.

Terry looked over at her, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the nerves he was trying to hide. “Come here, babe.”

Eve took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. “What’s this? You acting all secretive now?”

Terry extended the box to her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Just open it and see.”

Eve carefully untied the ribbon, peeling back the wrapping paper to reveal a delicate snow globe. She lifted it, tilting it slightly to watch the glittery snow swirl around the two tiny figures inside. At first, she thought it was just a beautiful decoration, but as she took a closer look, the details caught her eye: the woman inside wore a dress that looked remarkably like the one she had worn the year before on Christmas Eve, and the man was down on one knee.

“Hold up... is this us?” Eve gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Terry, her heart pounding. “Terry! Where did you even find something like this?” She knew it wasn’t something you could just pick up at a store. It was clearly custom-made.

Terry stepped closer, his deep brown eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. “I wanted you to have something special, something that showed you just how much you mean to me. Every detail, every piece of it... is us.”

Eve’s tears spilled over as she held the snow globe close to her chest. “Terry…” 

He gently took her free hand, sinking down on one knee in front of her, mimicking the figurine in the globe. She stared at him, her breath catching, as he pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket.

“Eve, you’ve been my everything from the moment I met you. It took too long for me to face that, but now, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?”

She nodded, tears spilling over before she could even speak. Her voice was thick with emotion as she whispered, "Yes, baby, yes."

Terry stood, pulling her into his arms as she laughed and cried at the same time. The snow globe rested safely in her hand, the tiny figures inside capturing the essence of their love—timeless, unwavering, and entirely their own.

A/N: Happy Holidays! Divider by firefly-graphics. The themes included were for storytelling purposes only. The holidays can be enjoyed with family, friends, or even on your own.

Tag List:

@nayaesworld

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@sageispunk

@megamindsecretlair

@blowmymbackout

@kindofaintrovert

@avoidthings

@zillasvilla

@insidefeelingofanadult

@theereina

@slutsareteacherstoo

@babybratzmaraj

@senajaiaspeak

@princessmakipala

@writingsbytee

@planetblaque

@liquorlaughslove

@judymfmoody

@playgurlxoxo

@theescorpiolovechile

@keyaho

@gg-trini

@vivaalenaa

@li-da-savage

@ash-ketchumzzz

@mysteryuz

@chefjessypooh

@rosaaverse

@kismet83

@wabi-sabi1090

@kykylovesblog

@blackchickinthedesert

@thevelvetwhispers

@teeresaresa

@cocoagadgetsworld

@daddiespamm

@virgosapphire79

@invisiblegiurl

[ellewritesalright]

The Ward

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Masterlist - Part 2

Synopsis: Aemond has a fascination with you, his mother's pious ward from a vassal family of House Hightower, but he has a peculiar way of showing it.

A/N: Hi!! this is set in and around the last few episodes of season 1. Reader is unnamed but comes from a noble house from the reach. I made up a Tyrell lord because I just wanted a name to throw about, but it's not that serious :) I wanna do another part of this, so lmk if you're interested and would like to be tagged

Warnings: mentions of the war, burning, Aemond being a flip-floppy bitch to reader, Aegon being a bit of a creep, and pls lmk if I've missed anything

Word Count: 3900

The halls of the Keep were quiet, despite the impending ruling of Lord of the Tides and the huddles of highborn folk who were visiting for the occasion. You walked through the grand passageways, a shawl over your shoulders for your journey outside the castle walls.

"Where are you off to this afternoon, my lady?" You heard Aemond's smooth voice from an alcove you'd just passed. You took a step back towards the sound as he made himself known, his tall frame coming out into the corridor.

"To the Sept, Prince Aemond. I'm going to pray," you answered.

He gave a slight nod and echoed, "Going to pray."

"Yes."

His eye was so focused on you, so attuned to your face that you felt he was trying to read your mind.

"You're aware that your presence is required at dinner this evening?" He inquired, folding his hands behind his back. “Rhaenyra and her brood will be in attendance.”

"Yes, your highness. I'll be back before the festivities begin," you assured him. "I only wish to say a few prayers on holy ground, several of which will be for the royal family."

Aemond's lips twitched into the smallest smirk. "You would pray for us?"

"Of course," you nodded. "I pray for everyone in this house. I always begin with King Viserys and pray for his health, then I thank the gods for Queen Alicent and her kindness in making me her ward, Ser Otto for his unending wisdom, I pray for Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, and their children that all of them prosper, then I pray for you, my prince."

"And what do you ask for when you pray to the gods for me?" He raised a brow, complete curiosity on his pretty features.

"For the gods to protect you," you answered.

He let out a quiet laugh, one you almost mistook as a scoff. Perhaps it was a scoff.

"You think I need protection, my lady?" He smirked.

"Everyone needs protection."

"But I most of all?" He raised his brow again. "Do you think I'm not strong enough to protect myself?"

"I never said such a thing. I only said that I pray for your protection."

"Hm, well, how considerate of you, my lady," he appraised, a foreign glint in his eye. "Take a guard when you go out."

You nodded softly. "Yes, of course."

He looked at you for a moment longer, then he turned and walked away.

……….

The conversation before dinner was dull, even despite the tension among the family members. No one mentioned lord Vaemond, the dead man in the bowels of the Keep being cared for by the Silent Sisters. Though the lack of mention for his severed head was not the root of the ill mood this evening; you had only known this group to dislike each other.

You didn't fully understand why the family had splintered so, since you became Queen Alicent's ward only after Princess Rhaenyra and her family had moved to Dragonstone. You knew it happened after the funeral of Prince Daemon's second wife and had something to do with Aemond's missing eye, but you had never been given the full story from either side.

The tension in the family was only exacerbated by the king's poor health. King Viserys should have been resting, not hosting his entire family to dinner, but alas, you were all gathered at the table waiting for his guards to carry him in.

Across from you, Prince Aegon was expectedly fidgeting in his chair, prisoner to his boredom and wishing the night would end so he could sneak off and do something depraved. Beside you at the head of the table, Prince Aemond, ever the calm and dutiful brother, sat back in his seat, his lips pursed in that unknowable way he seemed fluent in, especially as he stared down the table at Lucerys.

You made polite conversation with Otto Hightower where he sat to your left. He had always liked you, seeing as he had been the coordinator of your guardianship under Queen Alicent. Ser Otto was even the one to bring you on the carriage journey from the western lands of the Reach to King's Landing when you were just fourteen. You had learned much at court since then, growing to be whispered about as a fine young lady.

"Lord Denton Tyrell sent his regards to you, my dear," Otto turned to you, ignoring the smalltalk between Rhaenyra's group.

Aegon scoffed into his wine across from you.

"Did he?" You smiled kindly, though you were not sure it reached your eyes. Lord Denton was fifteen years your senior, and quite a lumbering fool.

"Mentioned you in a letter I received from Highgarden. Seems you made quite the impression on him at the last hunt."

You reached for your wine. "I barely spoke to him during the hunt, I wasn't aware I made any sort of impression."

You felt a stare on you, and you didn't have to look to your right to know that Prince Aemond was watching you, as he often did. But another prince was watching you too.

“We know what he's interested in, don't we, my lady?” Aegon smirked at you.

“Not another word, grandson.” Otto leveled him with a look across the table.

“Marriage,” Aegon said in an innocent tone, holding his hands up. “He is sure to be interested in a union with our lovely, pious ward. A coupling, if you will.”

Otto gave him another look, and Aegon looked as though he wanted to continue his impish teasing, but just then King Viserys was being carried into the room. Everyone stood beside their chairs as he was brought to the empty spot at the middle of the table.

The family sat back down and dinner proceeded. After a moment of heavy air, King Viserys began to speak to his family, addressing them as equals and not as their king. Rhaenyra spoke, then Alicent, and it seemed any animosity had disappeared from their memories. Dinner progressed further, and you watched Rhaenyra's sons--mostly Jaecaerys–butt up against Aegon and Aemond as the three stood and seemed square for a fight. But then, finally, the three of them sat again, and a temporary peace was made. The musicians returned to playing, and Ser Otto began engaging you in casual conversation again, both of your stares straying to Jacaerys and Helaena as they danced.

You caught Aemond glaring across the long table at Lucerys, and your eyes flicked down to his hand in his lap, how it clenched into a fist. Without thinking, you lowered your hand beneath the table and reached for him. Your fingers settled over his knuckles, and he broke his glaring at Lucerys and instead looked over at you, his eye losing its hard edge. The bones of his knuckles rippled under your hand, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he flattened his fingers then folded them around yours. Aemond gave you a slight nod, then looked over to his sister and nephew dancing, his hand still in yours.

From the corner of your eye, you could vaguely see King Viserys being carried to his room again as dinner trays were being brought in. You let go of Aemond's hand as servants approached your end of the table with a suckling pig. Above the music, you could faintly make out laughter, and you looked all the way down to the other end of the table to see Lucerys smirking at Aemond and the pig.

Before you could take his hand again, before you could so much as look at him again, Aemond had slammed his fist on the table and rose to his feet.

“Final tribute,” he called, eye intent on Lucerys and Jacaerys. “To the health of my nephews Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

You went rigid in your seat as the ensuing tussle broke out. There was nothing civil about how Aemond shoved Jace to the floor as soon as he stepped closer, and how Aegon pinned Luke to the table when he tried to join Jace. Ser Otto rose beside you, and you watched as guards tore the Velaryon boys away from Aemond and Aegon.

Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra seemed to admonish their respective children--though you weren't sure how effective the scoldings were considering the glares their children still sent one another–and then the Velaryons and Daemon's daughters were sent to bed. You watched as Aemond squared his shoulders, then stalked away.

“I shall also take my leave for the evening,” you said to the Hand. “Goodnight, Ser Otto.”

You kept your pace steady as you left the room, but once you were in the hall you were hurrying.

“You shouldn't have done that,” you said as you caught up to Aemond.

He didn't even look over at you. “I was complimenting them, my lady.”

“No one at that table took it for a compliment, your highness.”

“It is remarkable how when you speak, my mother's voice comes out.”

You frowned at him. “You know I'm right, you just won't admit it.”

“I know you believe yourself to be right.” He stopped in front of you, his eye narrowed to a knife's point. “Does your arrogance stretch so far as to think I should heed your wisdom?”

You buckled under his cold eye. “I only meant–”

“You meant to belittle me for my behaviour and tell me I am in the wrong for not taking the righteous path the gods would have me seek. If you didn't lack the worldly understanding of so much as a dormouse, I might be inclined to listen. But as it stands, I am not obliged to heed you."

You had no time to respond, as he turned on his heel and stalked down the royal family's wing. You stood in bitter silence, thoroughly lashed, as you watched him leave.

……….

The library was empty this morning. None of the maesters were hanging about as they often did, all busy after Aegon's crowning yesterday. Barely twenty-four hours had passed since you were informed that King Viserys was dead, yet the world felt upturned. Your warden, the now-Queen Mother Alicent, had brought you a dress to wear for the coronation, and you wore it again today, just without the ornamentations of jewelry. It was a deep green, a departure from the usual grays and blues you often wore, but you were grateful to her for it. It was difficult to not appreciate all she had done for you by bringing you to court, even if her son had scorned you.

You huffed and closed your book, setting it on the small stack you'd accumulated. You heard the far door open, but no footsteps. When you looked over your chair at the other patron of the Keep's library, you hurried to stand.

“Your highness,” you nodded at Aemond, watching him come further into the room. He seemed light on his feet today, not as angry as you had seen him as of late.

“Why the forlorn expression, my lady?”

“It is nothing, your highness.”

Your words lost their conviction the longer he stared at you, his eye seeming to peer into your soul. Aemond had stood beside you at Aegon's crowning, not looking at you the entire time. Whether that was due in part to his harsh words for you the night of the dinner, or more because his envy forbade him to look away from Aegon, you could not tell. But right now he was staring at you like you were the only thing in the room.

You let out a small breath and prepared yourself for a second round of insults today. “I was merely wondering how the Princess Rhaenyra must be feeling this morning.”

“Why?” His response was quick.

You struggled to keep your fingers still and indifferent to tension as you clasped them together in front of you. You glanced away from his hard stare.

“Why, my lady?”

You pursed your lips. “It just seems unfair, is all. It couldn't be easy for her, hearing what happened yesterday.”

“King Viserys changed his mind, my lady. Would you like to take it up with the queen mother?”

“No.” Your eyes snapped up to his face. “No, my prince, I would not dare.”

“And yet, I detect dissent."

"Not dissent, your highness," you shook your head lightly. "I have always known your mother to be the most trustworthy of figures. If she says King Viserys changed his mind, then I believe her. It's just that I feel some remorse for princess Rhaenyra; this has been her life's trajectory for some twenty-odd-years."

Aemond looked at you, his eye piercing. “My half-sister is not fit to be queen.”

“And his grace, King Aegon, is?” You said it quietly, but you knew after they had slipped out that your words could be interpreted as dangerous. “I only meant… King Viserys didn't ready his grace for the throne, not like he did with Princess Rhaenyra.”

Aemond looked at you with measurement in his brow. He leaned in slightly, looking at you with that veil in his eye, the one that hid him from any discernable emotion.

“Perhaps your thoughts are best kept to yourself, my lady. Do not speak to any other how you have spoken today.” You felt his breath on your face. “They may not be as forgiving as me.”

You nodded, closing your lips and taking a quiet inhale through your nose. He raised a brow, as though prompting you to respond, and you did, “I won't repeat myself to anyone, my prince. I'll stone the sentiment from my mind.”

He looked at you a moment longer, then pulled back. “Don't leave the Keep, my lady. Not even to visit the Sept. You must pray from inside these walls for the next few weeks.”

“Why?”

You could tell he didn't want to say at first, his shoulders tensing just a modicum. “It is for your protection, my lady. Who knows what Rhaenyra's side would do to you?”

“I have no part in this conflict among your family.”

“You do.”

“I don't, your highness,” you said more firmly. “I am a mere ward, there is no cause for any harm to befall me.”

“Rhaenyra's Council will see yesterday's events as an act of treason. Everyone who was on the dais yesterday, including you, my lady, will be treated as committing such treason.”

You closed your mouth.

“So,” he spoke with a slightly softer tone, “for the love of the Seven, stay inside.”

He once again prompted you with his brow, and you nodded, “I understand, my prince.”

……….

The evening had been strange for you.

After your library run-in with Prince Aemond that morning, you spent most of your day with Helaena, helping her care for the twins as she worriedly stitched. You had dinner in your chambers, feeling uncomfortable about being near most of the royal family right now. They were all busy, anyway; word had traveled yesterday with Rhaenys on the back of Meleys, informing Rhaenyra of Aegon's ascension, and your ward's family would undoubtedly be fortifying themselves, shoring up support for the crown in whatever way they could. An inkling whispered to you that they would surely marry you off to some lord to gain favour or loyalty, though you prayed that would not be the case. There was not a lord in the kingdom you'd met thus far whom you felt compelled to wed.

You did not prepare properly for bed that evening. All you did was take off your dress and collapse on top of your sheets, only your shift covering you as you quickly passed out. You had meant to just rest your body before you prepared a bath for yourself, but you did not rise again.

You dreamt of Aegon's coronation; all came to pass in the same way as reality, except as Ser Criston put the crown on his head, the people began to stir in outrage. Angered screams filled the dragon pit, and by the time Rhaenys and Meleys rose from the ground the crowd seemed to praise her for interrupting the ceremony.

Prince Aemond stepped in front of you again, as had happened in reality, except this time Meleys had opened her throat and fire had torched all in her path. You felt the heat of it, and as the line of fire came towards you and Aemond, your body jolted awake.

You gasped, moving to brace your hands over your face and save yourself from the flames. It was then you realized there was a warm weight on your stomach, something your hand had knocked against as you startled. Adrenaline returned to your veins and you pushed at the weight, but it pushed back, hands coming out to stop you at your wrists.

By the gods, it was a person.

You started to scream, terror taking reign as your mind raced with the possibility of who could be about to harm you. Was it an assassin sent by Rhaenyra to kill you in your bed, or a thief who had somehow crept into the Keep to defile you?

A hand quickly covered your mouth, and your jaw trembled so that you bit down, but there wasn't enough force to truly harm your assailant.

“Shh,” a voice came through to you in a quiet tone. “It is only me, my lady.”

Familiarity struck you, and you noticed the outline of long hair and the strap for a patch running over it. Your eyes caught on a lit carrying candle across the room, sitting on the dresser near your door, and you saw the way its light bounced softly off of white-blond hair. Your body stopped struggling.

“Aemond?” You murmured into his hand.

“Tis I.”

He removed his hand and you let out a breath with the realization it was just Aemond. But you weren't able to settle completely, especially not as he snaked down your body again, returning the weight of his head to your stomach.

“My prince, this is entirely inappropriate,” you muttered, your muscles freezing as he clung to you.

"I would never defile you, my lady," he whispered into your thin shift, his voice strained. "I only sought you for your familiarity."

Despite his arrogant behaviour towards you as of late, the weakness in his voice appealed to you, and you hesitantly set your hand on his head, your fingers lightly stroking along his scalp. You noticed then that his hair was damp. It was not raining outside the Keep, and Aemond looked too disheveled to have just cleaned in a bath. He must have been on dragonback this evening. Thinking this, you could smell traces of Vhagar on him. A sigh escaped you as you looked down at him.

"What is wrong, Aemond?" You asked lightly.

He would not say for a moment, then he pushed his face somehow closer to you, as though he wanted to burrow himself inside your body. “I have sinned.”

“What have you done?”

He shook his head slightly. “It is grave. Too grave for your ears.”

“Speak it.”

He shook his head again.

You sat up, trying to move out from under him as you huffed quietly. Aemond would not let you move more than this, his hands on your thighs and head having slipped down to your lap as you sat forward. You let out a soft scoff.

“Speak it, my prince, or I must ask you to leave.”

His fingers gripped your thighs, and you were reminded of how near he was to your skin despite your shift, his breath warm along the apex of your thighs. He loosened his hold again, and took in a deep breath.

“I was in Storm's End. Lucerys was there as well, and we quarreled in the sky. Vhagar… she… his dragon was so small in her jaw.”

You felt your heart drop in your chest.

“Aemond, tell me you didn't,” you whispered.

“I cannot lie to you.”

The resignation in his voice did you in, and you ran your palm along your face to stave your anxieties. You felt his nose pressing to your lower stomach but you weren't in a state to push him away, not when he'd all but admitted to slaying his nephew. You set your hand on his head, not stroking his hair but simply putting some weight on him in hopes it may provide comfort. When you next spoke, your throat was dry and you had to swallow your fear in order to make a sound.

"All you can do now is go to the Sept and pray to the gods for forgiveness."

His head shook on your lap. "There is no penance or prayer for what I have done."

You huffed, running your fingers through his hair. Aemond shifted, his hand on your thigh flexing as he tilted his head to the side to look up at you.

"Forgive me," he said. "Absolve me of my sins so that I may continue my life and end this conflict for my family."

"I'm not the one you need absolution from," you shook your head.

"It wasn't a request, my lady."

His lips were pursed and his eye was trained on you, assessing your face with scrutiny. You felt his hand on your thigh gripping just slightly too tight.

"Aemond, I…" you started, feeling your throat dry again. "Your highness, I am not comfortable with you here any more."

"It is not my wish to impose." He spoke as though he didn't see anything wrong with his actions. He made no move to get up.

"It is late, your highness. You must go."

He reached up, palming your cheek with a gentle but assertive touch. "You're warm."

"Prince Aemond, please," you muttered as you tried to shift him off of you. "You mustn't be here any longer."

"Just say it. And I know I will have the strength I need to end the rest of them."

"The rest of who?"

He shook his head yet again, pressing his face into your stomach once more. "I need you to say it. Tell me you forgive me."

"Aemond, you must leave."

As you moved to lean back against your headboard, trying to shake his weight, he sat up and braced his hands on either side of your lap. His slender, callused fingers dug into your bed sheets with a tense ruffle. His face was so close to yours, his breath warm on your cheeks. The look in his eye was impassioned, wide, and with a blown out pupil. His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy motion. Warm air puffed in and out on your face. You couldn't escape the feeling of his breath, or him for that matter.

The next breath you drew bordered on a gasp, however hard you tried to contain it. His eye dropped down to your lips, and you saw his mouth twitch before he could steel his expression and slip back into that impassive Aemond you knew best. You felt another breath on your skin, warm from his parted lips.

He pulled back, his eye losing that feral quality as he steadied himself before standing.

"I am sorry," he murmured, "for disturbing your evening."

His head dipped almost indistinguishably in a soft nod, then he left without a word.

You were still on your bed, crowded against the headboard despite being alone now. You blinked, looking at the candle on your dresser. It was the only evidence that Aemond had been in your room. You watched as the wax dripped in the dish, the wick burning nearly to the bottom. It was hard to say how long you watched the flame burn, but by the time the wick ran out, you had tucked your knees up to your chest, holding yourself as securely as you had Aemond.

……….

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment--I really appreciate the feedback! I'm gonna do more parts of this dynamic so please lmk if you wanna be tagged in them. Also if you want to request a fic for hotd, I will write for Aegon, Aemond, and Jacaerys, so please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

[campgender]

from In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado (2019)

In Dorothy Allison’s short story “Violence Against Women Begins at Home,” a group of lesbian friends gathers for a drink and they discuss a bit of community gossip: a pair of women recently broke into another woman’s house and trashed it, smashing glass and dishes and destroying her art, which they deemed pornographic. They spray-painted the story’s eponymous phrase on her wall. The friends debate police involvement and intragroup conflict mediation; but toward the end of the story, as they are parting ways, the problem crystallizes into a single, telling exchange:

“Look, do you think maybe we could hold a rent party for Jackie, get her some money to fix her place back up?”

Paula looks impatient and starts gathering up her stuff. “Oh, I don’t think we should do that. Not while they’re still in arbitration. And anyway, we have so many important things we have to raise money for this spring—community things.”

“Jackie’s a part of the community,” I hear myself say.

“Well, of course.” Paula stands up. “We all are.” The look she gives me makes me wonder if she really believes that, but she’s gone before I can say anything else.

Queer folks fail each other too. This seems like an obvious thing to say; it is not, for example, a surprise to nonwhite queers or trans queers that intracommunity loyalty goes only so far, especially when it must confront the hegemony of the state. But even within ostensibly parallel power dynamics, the desire to save face, to present a narrative of uniform morality, can defeat every other interest.

The queer community has long used the rhetoric of gender roles as a way of absolving queer women from responsibility for domestic abuse. Which is not to say that activists and academics didn’t try. When the conversation about queer domestic abuse took hold in the early 1980s, activists gave out fact sheets at conferences and festivals to dispel myths about queer abuse. [see footnote 45] Scholars distributed questionnaires to get a sense of the scope of the problem. [see footnote 46] Fierce debates were waged in the pages of queer periodicals.

But some lesbians tried to restrict the definition of abuse to men’s actions. Butches might abuse their femmes, but only because of their adopted masculinity. Abusers were using “male privilege.” (To borrow lesbian critic Andrea Long Chu’s phrase, they were guilty of “[smuggling patriarchy] into lesbian utopia.”) Some argued that consensual S&M was part of the problem. Women who were women did not abuse their girlfriends; proper lesbians would never do such a thing. [see footnote 47] There was also the narrative that it was, simply, complicated. The burden of the pressure of straight society! Lesbians abuse each other!

Many people argued that the issue needed to be handled within their own communities. Ink was spilled in the service of decentering victims, and abusers often operated with impunity. In an early lesbian domestic abuse trial, a lawyer noted the odd and unsettling detail that most of the time the jury spent behind closed doors was—contrary to what she’d been worried about—the straight jurors attempting to convince the jury’s sole lesbian member of the defendant’s guilt. When she was later questioned, the lesbian juror told the lawyer that she hadn’t “wanted to convict a [queer] sister,” as though the abused girlfriend was not herself a fellow queer woman.

Around and around they went, circling essential truths that no one wanted to look at directly, as if they were the sun: Women could abuse other women. Women have abused other women. And queers needed to take this issue seriously, because no one else would.

footnote 45: Among the myths tackled by the Santa Cruz Women’s Self Defense Teaching Cooperative: “Myth: It’s only emotional/psychological, so that doesn’t count.” “Myth: I can handle it—unlike her last three lovers.” “Myth: Staying together and working it out is most important.” “Myth: We’re in therapy, so it’ll get fixed now.”

footnote 46: Actual questionnaire language by researcher Alice J. McKinzie: “Is your abuser present at this festival? If your abuser is at this festival, is she present while you are filling this out? If your abuser is not present while you are filling this out, is she aware that you are filling out this questionnaire? If you answered NO to the question above … do you plan to tell her later?”

footnote 47: This No True Scotsman fallacy could bend these narratives in every direction conceivable; create a kind of moving goalpost that permitted an endless warping of accountability. In a firsthand account of her abuse in Gay Community News in 1988, a survivor wrote: “I had been around lesbians since I was a teenager, and although some of them had troubled relationships, I was unaware of any battering. I attached myself to the comforting myth that lesbians don’t batter. Much later, when I was ‘out’ enough to go to gay bars in a town that was liberal enough to tolerate them, I saw that some lesbians did indeed batter. However, I thought they were all of a type—drunks, sexist butches or apolitical lesbians—so I decided that feminist lesbians don’t batter.” Activist Ann Russo put it more succinctly in her book Taking Back Our Lives: “I had found it hard to name abuse in lesbian relationships as a political issue with structural roots.”

[readychilledwine]

Till Death Do Us Part

SJM Villains Week - Day One - Origin Story

"Are people born wicked, or do they have wickedness cast upon them?" -Wicked the Musical

Summary - Beron had known love once in his life, and even that was ripped from him

Warnings- This fic has some heavy topics. A whole species of fae is hunted for their wings until extinction. While it is not done in great detail, if that will potentially trigger you, please consider skipping this.

Other warnings- reader Death, spousal abuse, domestic, and child abuse inferred, loss of a spouse, death of a mate, in summary, just not my normal happy love story. Edited and formated on my cellphone, long story, if you see errors, you definitely didn't 👀

A/n - Happy @sjmvillainweek day one. I was sent a request about Beron losing the love of his life being his villain Origin story. I bounced between doing this as a mini series or as a one shot, but landed on the one shot due to mini series that end with reader Death not being a personal favorite of mine, plus, writing reader's death after writing 3 parts of her and Beron falling in love was rough. If you all want it, though, let me know I guess? Today is very out of my box, as you all will see with my Maeve fic queued for later, so to those of you who frequently write reader/oc deaths, I truly admire you. This was hard.

🪽Peep the Wings of Prythian headcanons Here 🪽

🗡Villains Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

The stake set in the middle of the grounds was the seal on the impact of Beron's actions. 100 years, 100 happy years of keeping her safe, and now he was locked in his own room, trapped as her execution was set up. 

He should have known better, should have hid her better. Her kind was already rare and in the last 100 years, she was finally the last one. One last trophy to hunt and he had led his father right to her. 

Lifeless wings hung high on his wall, still fresh with the scent of her blood.  The luster they carried was fading, the vibrant burnt orange now a muted tone of its former glory. 

Beron put his head in his hands, the faebane chains around his wrists clanging with laughter as he did. He forced his mind back to a happier time. 

Fire Festival had you running around the small market near where the Leaf Folk lived. Mother needed flour. Father needed wine. Your sisters wanted candy. The first of October was special to you all. To your whole race. It was the start of a 31 day process where the females of your race were courted, married, and the hopes of young offspring came. .

Fire Festival was for lovers. It was for passion. It would be your first year to partake, and while you knew it took some females 3 attempts to meet their match, your wings couldn't help but flutter in hope you would meet yours this year. 

As you day dreamed, supplies in a basket, you were blind to the male watching you. An outsider that had vendors closing their doors and windows with customer's inside, mamas rushing their children into their homes.

A voice cleared behind you, pulling you from your daze, “My lady.” It was instant, that snap of the mating bond tugging and tying you two together into a cursed string. ..

The dark-haired male put his hand to his heart, blindly stepping closer to you. Dark hair sat on top of his head, styled and brushed into perfection despite the evidence he had arrived on horseback. His slender face was handsome. Sharper cheekbones, full lips, a nose reminding you of a hawk beak. His clothing was high end, hugging his body as if he was poured into the material. “Beron,” he spoke to you, ripping you from your study of his figure.

“Y/n,” you whispered back, wings moving slightly to be out of sight.

“I have no interest in those,” he motioned towards them. “Only in the rumors of elder flowers in this area.”

You blinked at him, the olive branch you were about to offer him was dangerous, “I can show you if you vow to never speak of this place.”

Beron fought against his father as he was pulled to the temple. He knew the female he was being forced to marry was nice enough, beautiful, wealthy. He was forced to stand at the altar, a knife held to his little sister's back as he did. Aurelia entered either her normal grace, her own face solemn as the fae stood and she was escorted to him by her own proud father. 

Her dress reminded him of a princess from tales of old. Far too large, puffy, and in a shade of white that did not compliment her porcelain skin and hair like fire. 

They were both silent as they took their vows and the count down to your execution began. 2 hours. 2 hours he'd be forced to spend drinking and all that did was encourage more memories of you.

The pull of the bond became too much the following October, and the letters written on oak leaves could no longer be enough for either of you.

You were taking a huge risk, using the first feast and bonfires to sneak to his hunting cabin just a few miles away from the hidden edge village you'd spent your life in.

Beron was waiting on the porch, eyes coming alive as he heard the sound of your leaf-like wings crinkling as you flew over to him. ..

He caught you quickly, arms going around your waist, pulling your head to his chest. .

The first hug of many.

The first night filled with laughter and stolen kisses that'd come with the next 99 years.

He carried your one bag, frowning at your lack of possessions.

"Is this all you have, my love?”

”All I need,” Your tone was confused. “Did you expect more?”

He had. He had expected more than just the 7 dresses he pulled out. More than the one necklace he had given you. More than one more pair of leather shoes.

Beron glanced at you, chocolate eyes slightly sad, “I'm going to give you the world.”

Beron and Aurelia watched in silence as people drank and danced. “You said you were running,” he whispered under his breath to her. “You said you were leaving to prevent this.”

Aurelia looked at him, her whiskey colored eyes narrowing, “Do you think I didn't try to get him to come grab me? Do you think I sat and did nothing despite our deal?”

He rolled his own eyes, “Careful with your tone, wife,” the word felt like ash. 

“Am I your wife? Or is she locked in the fox holes waiting to be the final show for our wedding? Who else has their marriage start with the burning of their husband's who-”

The slap that came before she could finish that sentence made the room fall into silence. Another beginning. Another drastic change. Beron knew Aurelia had sold out the location he kept you in. Her father had been the one to drag you in, bleeding and crying, dress torn. 

Beron's father motioned for the night to continue like nothing had happened, as if he was beaming with pride at his son striking his wife. 

“Just because he didn't want you after you willingly handed him your cunt, doesn't mean I didn't want y/n. I hope you enjoy both of us being as miserable as you clearly are.” 

She sat wordlessly next to him, holding her cheek. She'd been warning of the heavy hands the Vanserra males carried, but Beron had never been aggressive. He'd always been kind to her. But she knew she was you and clearly Aurelia had gotten herself into dangerous territory. 

Beron watched the clock as it ticked an hour. An hour to day dreamed about you.

The wedding of the Leaf Folk were not performed in a temple, an odd thing for Beron as he stood under the oldest apple tree in the groove. Its twisted trunk and tangled branches were almost menacing as you followed his eye. 

You took his hands, whispering in the old tongue and making the tree light up with runes and stories of lovers wed under its branches. You were the last of your kind. The village somehow found and pillaged in one night. The groove of apples around you both was struggling, dying off slowly as its caretakers became a lost memory. “What do we do now?”

"We close our eyes and feel. We will know if the land blesses our union,” you smiled as you answered, closing your eyes. Fireflies began to fill the area, a slight breeze carrying the sounds of gentle music. You both opened your eyes to the deer to the fireflies.

“What the hell,” he paused. “What is this?”

"Approval from the Mother. She has blessed and signed off on our union,” Your hand went to the new rune in the tree, eyes watering as you followed the curves and slopes. “We're married.”

Beron was forced to stand, shackled again as guards made him and Aurelia walk to where he'd be forced to watch you burn. His family and Aurelia's father too spots near them, the other High fae in attendance whispering as they also took places. Public execution in Autumn was a favorite pastime for the rich high fae. They loved watching the poor, the criminals, the low fae burn or be gifts to the trees, consumed root by root. 

His father had known that wasn't an option with you. Had he given you to the trees, the trees would free you. No true crime was committed, and on top of that, your kind was so closely linked to the trees, your life forces depending on each other. 

Beron had tried to warn his father what killing you would do, how his family would lose control of the trees and the forest, how that was a magic given to his family by the Leaf Folks elders hundreds of years ago. A promise not to hunt them, yet every Nobel here had a pair of those wings on their walls. Fresh ones. 

Beron pulled against his chains as he heard you fighting and screaming in the tongue of your people. He watched as you spit on the male dragging you, watched as you spit on his father. 

You had, in many ways, made Beron's life easier. You had killed two of his brothers during your capture, making him the clear heir. You had stabbed his father with something rumors from the healers say wasn't closing, festering in his skin and muscles like an infection. The look of pride as you looked down from your nose towards his father made Beron smirk. You'd die a warrior. Die with not an ounce of fear but instead a river of rage. 

His wife. His powerful fearless wife.

That sneer didn't change as you were tied to the stake. It didn't change as your so-called charges were read. It didn't change as you waited to be given the ability to speak one last time. 

“The last of your kind, yet you won't beg for your life?”

“No,” you answered his father plainly. 

The High Lord seemed surprised as he spoke again, “So you will curse my son to a life of madness?”

“I've cursed your son and court to so much more than that already,” you glared

It was then that Beron noticed the runes carved into your body in captivity. He held his breath as he read each one. As he read the fate your death would seal for this court and for him.

You had been lied to, told he gave away your location, that he handed you away willingly in exchange for the bride sitting next to him. All lies he would never be able to change.

It looked as if you were praying, but Beron knew the signs of Leaf Folk magic now. He knew what was happening as the wind picked up and lightning struck as your pyre was lit. 

Beron shot out of bed, shaking his head as the nightmare replaying her death was fresh in his mind. He still blamed himself, still blamed Aurelia. 700 years later and he wasn't over her. 

But how could he have been? Her curse was a plague on Autumn. A deep rot that settled into the remaining signs of her village first. Then that grove he had married her in. Then the surrounding forest and villages. It was choking off life in his court. Illness, famine, and death followed in its path.

Her curse had not just taken the forest, though, it had taken him. The lifeless mating bond was doubled by what she had down. Beron lost all sense of emotion and Humanity once she was gone. He lost himself. That much was clear by the scars littering his wife and children. By what he had done to Lucien. 

He had no one to blame but himself.

He knew she was forbidden. A female considered low fae with wings like the rustling leaves of this very court, but Beron couldn't stop himself. He couldn't resist the feel of her soft skin, her scent of spun sugar and apples, her soft hair. Her eyes were his favorite thing, so light and bright. Full of life. 

As he held his chest in bed, his sleeping wife was next to him. It was those eyes that haunted him. Those last words whispered before an execution.

“A plague on your houses, a plague on your court, until a son brave enough to kill for what's right comes forth.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[theseareafewofmyfavoritethingzz]

Fantasy High: Junior Year episode 2 Thoughts

Hallariel and Gilear leaving reminded me that they'll both live to about 1,900 years old while fabian will only live to max 190 and now I have Big Feelings

Riz is my darling angel boy that can do no wrong I love him so much and sklonda gukgak best mom 100% I think Riz' storyline is really gonna kill me this season because I relate to him so hard and it's such a realistic struggle

Gorgug's parents being so supportive is so sweet but I can't help but thinking there's bad things to come with this folk festival

Fig and Kristin are great representation for the good at everything but school crowd

I think Ally nailed it when they said Kristin this season is going to have to deal with what it's like when being chaotic isn't cute anymore because there isn't a lot of direction in what Kristin's doing right now and it reminds me a lot of how I felt junior year

Fig and Ayda's epic fucking romance!!!

I see jobs in the bad kids' future!

Aelwyn putting the ward on adine's room to be like "no one fucks with my sister but me" is so funny and also so sweet

Fig really pulled a " Mom I frew up" on Sandra lynn lol

Is Cassandra dying because she doesn't have enough belief?

[otakubimbo]

The Rabbit and The Wolf

Feelings & Fireworks

It’s the day of the festival and you don’t know what to feel. Do you love him, do you love him not

MDNI. MATURE CONTENT.

Ch 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

master list

Your eyes are open before the sun, your body stilling as you remember the state you were in the last time you woke up. The warmth from the bed was missing, unfortunately even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Last night was the best sleep you had in years, he had brought you so much comfort, so much relaxation. Sighing internally, not knowing exactly where to go from here, knowing that you would eventually have to face your own feelings. There was still one more night of having to share a bed with Kakashi, how were you going to do that with everything going on in your mind, in your heart.

With a groan, you rise out of the formerly shared bed. It was time for your comfort to be over and get ready for the day. The festival was today, and you were going to make sure all the kids had a fun time. It would be nice to see someone get to enjoy their youth for once. After casually dressing, you make your way to Team 7's room. It was still early so you hoped someone would be up, and by someone, you meant Sasuke so you could shove his head in the dirt. Luckily for you when you knocked on the door a sleepy Sasuke answered.

“Ah, just the knucklehead I wanted to see” you smile before grabbing him by the ear and dragging him out. His ‘ows’ repeated as you dragged him down the hall to take a walk outside.

“Stop dragging me” his complaints fall on deaf ears as you drag him outside.

“Listen up brat, don’t you ever do anything like that again.” You say flustered once outside.

“So did you finally ki- “Sasuke couldn’t finish before you knocked him on the head. He rubs the now-forming bump on top of his head. “What was that for?!”

“For meddling and talking too much.” You grumble, crossing your arms, a bit embarrassed. He was just like a little brother, a brat.

“I was just trying to help,” he says, still rubbing his head.

“No one asked for your help, Sasu,” you say resisting the urge to bop him again, jumping towards him as he flitches.

“I know but still.”

“Still nothing, stay out of grown folk business.”

“sorry” his muffled voice came.

You sigh at him, placing your hands on your hips before ruffling his hair. As always, he was incredibly embarrassed by that. Unfortunately, you couldn’t talk to your sister or your friend, so you had to get your thoughts out to someone.

“He did say he was in love with me,” you say as you lean on the wall behind you, avoiding his eyes.

“Is that why you disappeared?” Sasuke tries to gauge your reaction, hoping to not get another thump on the head.

“Possibly.” You reply, still avoiding the young man's gaze, “But like I said before, it’s complicated.” You sigh, before looking at him.

“Everything is complicated”

“Yeah, everything is complicated.” You are avoiding his gaze yet again, looking up to the sky.

“I think you may be making it complicated.” He remarks mainly to the air instead of directed at you.

You exhale deeply, “maybe.”

There was silence between the two of you until it was broken by Kakashi’s voice.

“You two the only ones up?” He asks walking up with a bag in hand, still with one of his perv books in the other.

“Yeah, last time I checked. Those idiots sleep like rocks.” Sasuke said casually, as if you two weren’t just talking about the man walking up now. There was a hesitation in looking at him from you, but you could feel him glancing at you while he talks to Sasuke about how the night went and the plans for the day. Every time your gaze falls on him, all you can think of is waking up entangled in him and your heart beating dangerously fast.

“I think I’m going to go back to the room.” You say before scurrying off, while they were in mid conversation about today’s plans. The two of them watched you quickly walk away from them, Sasuke looking up at Kakashi to see his expression.

“Don’t break her heart.” Sasuke says to the older man, turning his attention back to your fleeting form. Kakashi looks down at him, confused. “She feels the same if you couldn’t tell. I saw you two the other day, outside the hospital.”

Kakashi was a bit embarrassed that someone else also said his rejection and your disappearing act. He decides to stay silent, not trying to acknowledge his downfall.

“And she told me what you said.” Sasuke starts casually, looking at Kakashi, “She says things are complicated, I don’t really know what she meant by that but that’s not really for me to figure out I guess.”

“OH,” Kakashi says thoughtfully, now understanding your behavior more.

“Just don’t tell her I told you, she’d kill me. “The boy says before stuffing his hands in his pockets and starting to walk back to his own room. He left his sensei there to be with his thoughts, the bag of pastries in the bag he was holding getting cold. Kakashi was surprised that you confided in Sasuke about his feelings, but it seemed like your sister's words. To him, you may love him, you just were scared, which was fair so that meant he possibly had a chance to change your mind. He was a coward once; he wasn’t about to be one again.

Back in the room, you were in the shower, trying to calm your heart and mind. The things that man does to your head. You aggressively wash your body to distract yourself from your own thoughts. Hearts were such fickle things, and you had no clue what was going on with yours. If it wasn’t obvious, you didn’t know what to do with yours, it had already been damaged once by this man and you didn’t want it damaged again. But he said he loved you; he was in love with you, and you were…... well you weren’t sure what you were.

When you exit the bathroom, Kakashi is still not in the room. You exhaled a sigh of relief at that, you weren’t ready to face him yet. There did seem to be a note on the table that was there along with a coffee, which you picked up reading. The note read, ‘I took the team to do some festival preparations for tonight. The coffee is for you, I think it’s just as you like it.’ As you put it down, you picked up the coffee taking a small sip of it, and it was perfect just the way you loved it. It was sweet but just bitter enough that it kept that coffee taste, he remembered. That feeling made you smile a little to yourself, a sign of his love for you.

You spend the time without the team and Kakashi, relaxing and getting ready for the festival. After last night, you decided that you would confess that you feel the same way about the man you shared a room with last night. The preparation for the night included shaving, skincare, and making sure your kimono was perfect. Luckily for you, your hair was already in a protective style so that was one last thing on the ‘everything shower’ list. Since completing all your body tasks, you went to get yourself a little sake to calm your nerves for the night. You found a small store selling drinks and some other festival items.

“Welcome, how can I help you today?” the shopkeeper asks you as you enter the little shop.

“HI, yes, I was looking for some sake.” You answered with a shy smile, you were extremely nervous.

“Oh, is this for a special occasion besides the festival? You seem a little flustered. A mister caught your eye?” The woman behind the counter teases you.

“Something like that,” you say as you play with your fingers nervously and the older woman chuckles at you while shuffling to find you something that must have come to her mind. She pulls a bottle from the back of a shelf.

“Now this is incredibly smooth and a relaxing, calming drink.” She says without even telling you the price, wrapping it up for you. Before you could ask anything, she pulled out a smaller vial of something from under the counter, “And now this, this is a bit of liquid courage, which seems like you need. Am I right?”

“Yeah. Thanks” You mumble, feeling your whole body heat up at the thoughts. You reach into your pocket to pull out your wallet when the old lady stops you.

“Oh no, these are on the house, dear.” She states putting the items in a bag and pushing it towards you. You attempt to argue with her about needing to pay and she refuses. “I make more than enough to sustain during this season. Please just take it.” You sigh in defeat, taking the bag from the older woman, and bowing a thank you.

You put the smaller bottle of “liquid courage” in your personal bag, holding the other bottle in the bag as you make your way back to the inn. It was finally a good time to start getting ready, hopefully, Kakashi was already ready or at least not in the room. Unfortunately for you, not only was he there but he wasn’t even close to being dressed still in his casual outfit.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly entering the seemingly smaller room. He nods back at you, gesturing to the bag in your hand. “Oh, I just got some sake for tonight, the shopkeeper gave it to me for free. You wouldn’t even believe it.”

“Ha, you threaten her or something” He jokes and your cheeks puff at him.

“NO!” You huffed putting the bottle on the table on the wall. “She said she makes enough money during this time and that I looked like I needed it.”

“Are you nervous about something?” He questioned taking a tentative step towards you, which made you automatically turn from facing him.

“NO! she said I looked stressed, that’s all.” You fidget with the bottle in your hand, still not facing him yet, pouring two shots for the two of you. “Here” you shove the cup into his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“We are not getting drunk, a few shots of sake never hurt anyone.” You comment, a small smile on your face that Kakashi couldn’t deny making him flustered.

“Fine” He relents, clinking his cup against yours. A bigger smile spreads on your face as you down the shot back without a second thought, as Kakashi does the same.

“See not that bad!” You could feel the warmth of the liquor in your body, licking the remnants of the shot from your lips. Kakashi stilled at the sight of you doing that, he could feel the blood rushing to a certain area of his body. You cocked your head to the side in confusion from his silence which just made him tense even more, his face starting to burn.

“Yeah, not bad” He coughs as if he might be choking. You just chuckle while putting your cup down.

“Well, I should probably start getting ready.” You are still chuckling at him while you make your way to the bathroom. The shopkeeper was right, you were going to need some liquid courage because you don’t even know how you get a clear head when talking to him just then. As you close the door behind you, you fish the special drink out of your bag, clutching the vial in your hand, and you pop the top of it. At no point did you even think about the consequences of drinking this vial, didn’t even check to see exactly what it was but you down it anyway. You doubted it would be able to kill you anyway, you’ve downed your fair share of poisons and right now you were going to do anything not to think about the possibilities of tonight.

After your shower, you felt a bit more refreshed, lightheaded even but in a good way even a bit giggly. Whatever was in that drink you took was putting you into a positive mood, you almost couldn’t stop giggling to yourself. Tonight was going to be fun; you were going to let yourself enjoy life for once. Your hair was done simply, half up, half down, a cute little bun in the back. You went with a basic makeup look also, it was going to be dark after all, no need to go all out. Your eyeshadow matched your yukata, a midnight blue color, placed below your water line and on your lash line, it made your eyes pop. You were almost finished, you just needed a little help getting your yukata tied, leaving the bathroom in a small fit of giggles.

Immediately Kakashi’s face moves to yours as he hears the lightness in your voice, which he hasn’t heard in years.

“Kashi” You start, walking out of the bathroom and trying your best to tie yourself up. “Can you help me? I just can’t get my fingers to work it seems.”

The man before you was frozen, the way you looked so cute yet disheveled in your yukata, the light finally returning to your eyes, you were glowing, magnificent to him. The sight was so domestic, a life that he craved, from you. Images of a possible life with you flooded his head and heart, hearing the giggle in your voice felt like a drug to him right then, the idea of being the reason your yukata was disheveled instead of your inability to tie it yourself. Your confused voice calling out his name, finally snapped him out of his daydream.

“Are you gonna help me?” You questioned, a cute tilt to your head as you still try to fumble with it yourself.

“Oh yeah,” He stutters getting up to come behind you, helping you tie yourself up. He inhaled your scent deeply, even more intoxicating than just the sight of you, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling his nostrils. The amount of willpower it took from him to not bury his face into the crook of your neck.

You spin facing him once he finishes his work, “Thanks.” You beam up at him, the mystery drink you had making you feel so warm and excited. “So…. How do I look?” You ask before giving him a simple twirl.

“Almost perfect,” He remarks before turning to grab something, while you look at him confused.

“Almost?”

“Almost.” He responds, pulling out a delicate silver flower pin. It was absolutely beautiful and intricate, with tiny flowers and vines scattered with small crystals.

“Oh my. Kashi, this is beautiful.” You say taking the fragile pin into your hands. “You got this for me?”’

“Yeah, no big deal.” He says casually, although it wasn’t casual at all. He was searching everywhere today for something for you and when he spotted the pin, he knew he had to get it for you. Intricate and beautiful, just like you. Gently, he takes the pin from your hands, reaching behind you to place it in your bun. You could feel his warm breath in your ear, and it sent an immediate shiver down your spine, having to force yourself not to let any noises escape your mouth.

He backed away after placing it in your hair, not too far but too close, dangerously close. “Now, perfect.”

“Thank you” you exhale not even realizing you were holding your breath. You looked up at him, starry-eyed, this was bad, bad. His face started falling towards yours, but to your surprise, you couldn’t move. You were going to let him kiss you, you wanted him to kiss you and your eyes started fluttering shut as you began to lean up to him. Before the gap could be closed, there was a bang at the door, Naruto of course.

“Y/N-sensei, Kakashi-sensei?! You ready to go?!” Naruto yells from outside the door, you take a huge step back while Kakashi sighs.

“Yeah, yeah, just give us a second” you yell back at him, going to get your shoes, avoiding the man's gaze on you slipping them on before grabbing another shot of sake. Luckily, you were still feeling light and airy from the mystery drink which calmed your nerves so easily. After your shot, you pour one for the man, handing it to him with a smile.

“Come on old man, let's live a little”

And who was he to ever deny you, especially with the way you were smiling at him now. The way you were going to let him have you just then, the thought of feeling your body under his again. Maybe he would have two more, taking the cup from your hand grazing your fingers gently before downing it and pouring him another.

“Okay okay, maybe you’re not that old after all.” You joke, grabbing his hand knowing Naruto didn’t have a patient bone in his body. Kakashi was taken aback by the gesture, but he wasn’t going to show it and just let you pull him out of the room.

“Wow, Y/N-sensei you look so pretty!” Naruto exclaims as you exit the room.

“Well thank you Naruto, I do clean up nice sometimes.” You ruffle his hair at his compliment.

“Definitely only sometimes.” Sasuke remarks under his breath and you elbow him in the ribs.

“Brat”

“How do I look Y/N-sensei?” Sakura asks shyly, getting your attention. She was dressed in an adorable yukata that resembled her name.

“Absolutely stunning” You comment, giving her a little boop on the nose. She glowed under your approval, hoping that it would do good to get Sasuke’s attention which you noticed. “Don’t you agree Sasu?”

“Hmph” He snorts, and you elbow him again. “Yeah, I guess.”

You could tell Sakura was doing her best to hold on to her composure at getting a compliment from Sasuke. And you could only stifle your giggles so much from the scene. Your little group left the inn to attend the festival activities held outside. It was completely beautiful outside. Lanterns hanging from all the shops along with different colored lights. The streets were bustling with people, almost overly crowded yet everyone was in light spirits. Food and game stalls were everywhere, there was no clue where to start first truly. You reach into your pocket pull out some money and hand it to Sakura.

“I can trust you with this right Sakura?” You ask, putting the bag of money in her hand.

“Yes ma’am” She nods putting it in your pocket.

“Great” you clap your hands together, “Yall have fun, we can meet before the fireworks.”

And with that, they go run off, well Naruto and Sakura run off while Sasuke walks behind them, to do whatever they want with the money you gave them. You giggle as you watch them.

“They’re good kids” you mention as you and Kakashi walk side by side.

“Yeah, nothing like us back then. We were hell.” He chuckles beside you.

“We?! Absolutely not, Kashi. I have always been a saint, I was perfect.” You giggle knowing damn well that wasn’t the truth, especially when you were with him. The two of you together were demons, too serious yet too reckless. Just two kids trying to figure shit out the wrong way. You with your smart mouth and Kakashi with his even worse attitude, young and powerful.

Kakashi snorts, “You literally cussed out the Hokage before, two of them!”

“I was just standing my ground, actually.”

“You told the 3rd to go to hell.” He reminds.

“And I stand on that, in the moment.” Crossing your arms defensively.

“Which is why he didn’t let you go on missions for a month.”

“WHICH is why I stood on that.” You shove him with your shoulder. “As if you were any better, you always had such a bad attitude and a scowl on your face. Some would find that off-putting.”

“You never felt that way.” He comments.

“And that’s not the point. Plus, they kept sticking us on missions together, so I just had to get used to you, ya know.”

“A force to be reckoned with.” He breathes out, reminiscing on your past adventures. You fall into a comfortable silence as you both take in the sights of the festival, your body heating up from the drinks you had earlier, finally starting to feel it. Unconsciously, your body leans more into Kakashi feeling his warmth against your skin. It wasn’t until you caught wind of something delicious and sweet in the air did you moved from his side, your eyes scanning to find the source of the smell. AH HA. You spot the dango stand, lacing your arm through Kakashi’s, and you pull him towards the stand. You hadn’t had dango in forever and it smelled delectable.

“Two please?” You request, about to go into your pocket to pay when Kakashi’s hand is already handing money over, waiting for you to take the sticks. You take the sticks, thanking the lady at the stand.

“What a good boyfriend you have.” She comments with a wink, you just laugh.

“He’s alright,” you say awkwardly, taking a dango into your mouth, as the older woman laughs at you while you allow Kakashi to pull you away. “Don’t say anything, it would have been rude to correct her.” You scold him before he could even say anything, even though you didn’t unlink your arms.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything” He jokes, feeling his chest tighten at the thought.

“Sure,” you say taking another bite. “I could have paid myself.”

“You could of,” he says casually as he pulls his arm closer to his body which pulls you closer to him, you don’t move back.

The two of you continued enjoying the rest of the festival with Kakashi buying you more snacks that you sniffed out, even winning you a prize at one of the stalls. A stuffed wolf. You were enjoying this, enjoying being with Kakashi like this. It wasn’t like when you were younger and would hang out like friends. This felt intimate, almost like a date but of course, it wasn’t. In the back of your mind, you remember how he said that he was in love with you but now he was just acting so casually as if nothing had changed. Yes, he did almost kiss you earlier today but still, a girl sometimes has her doubts.

Truthfully, you were more scared of your feelings than his, afraid that you were also in love with him, but you didn’t even know what that meant. All of this was a first for you because of course you’ve been in relationships and liked people, but you’ve never been in love. Especially being in love with your best friend, one of the few people you have left in your life that you just got back.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed you and Kakashi stopped walking. He said your name quietly, gently turning your head to face him making you snap out of your thoughts.

“You okay?” He asked concern written all over your face at your sudden mindlessness. His fingers felt like they were burning under your chin. You squeeze the wolf closer to you, taking in the features of his face before you sigh nodding.

“Yeah, I’m fine” You attempt to laugh it off. “Just haven’t been to a festival in so long, ya know” He seems to believe your excuse, releasing your face and picking up two baskets you don’t even remember acquiring.

“Alright, well the team said they found the best spot to watch the fireworks.”

“Oh great” You smile up at him and the worried lines on his face soften. The two of you walk to a place that seems far away from the actual festival, a mostly abandoned hill that’s just outside the festival area. Your eyes scan around for the team, spotting them almost immediately Naruto waving frantically.

“y’all been having fun?” You ask as the two of you walk up to them, Kakashi handing them one of the baskets that Sasuke takes.

“Yes, but Naruto kept losing money on games” Sakura pouts, complaining as Naruto tries to defend himself. You could see that happening, which makes you giggle at their antics. Sasuke stays silent, looking at you and Kakashi in a strange way that you couldn’t figure out why when you met his eyes.

“What? You must not have had fun” You tease, jostling his hair which makes him smack your hand away scoffing. But he kept that same look on his face, it wasn’t a bad look, but you couldn’t figure out what was on his mind.

“Nothing.” He says, turning his back. “Come on before these fireworks start” he doesn’t even wait for a response as he starts walking away. The other two follow him as Naruto waves bye which again makes you giggle, so adorable.

“I think Sasuke had a better time than he wants to admit. Reminds me of someone at that age” You tease.

“I have no clue who you could be referring to.” He remarks pulling you to a bit higher spot on the hill behind where the team set their blanket and everything up. That’s what must be in the baskets. Kakashi takes out everything that was in your basket which includes a little more than just a blanket and snacks for you two, he also got some Sake, your favorite sake. He lets you sit down first on the blanket he just laid out, pouring you and himself some sake as he sits down. You sip on your cup as you gently lean into Kakashi again as you did while walking.

“I haven’t seen fireworks in years.” You break the silence between the two of you.

“Truthfully, I can’t remember the last time I had.” He comments back and you giggle at that taking another sip. You start fiddling with the cup in your hand, anxious about what you’re going to say next.

“I’ve had a really good time tonight.” You came out and just said it.

‘Really?”

“Really” you repeat taking a bigger sip this time.

He smiles gently down at you, “Good. I had hoped so.”

Before you could say anything else, the fireworks started grabbing your attention. It was the perfect spot to watch them. From your point of view, you could see everything without having to strain your neck up to see. It was beautiful.

“Beautiful.” You comment, staring at the fireworks in awe.

“Exceptionally so.” He replies, except he wasn’t looking at the fireworks. He was looking at you and you could feel his gaze, slowly turning your head towards him. His gaze was soft but there was a fire behind it that was making your heart pound into your chest. You didn’t know what was louder, the fireworks or your heart. A feeling of boldness came across you as your hand reached for his face, stroking his cheek, gently pulling on his mask as you leaned up. He follows your lead, leaning down towards you as you pull his mask down past his lips.

“Is this, okay?” He asked barely above a whisper, not even sure if you could hear him or not, even with your faces not even an inch apart. You nod against his face, pushing his nose with yours before his lips land directly onto yours. The arm he had resting behind you grabbed you by the waist pulling you more into him which made you gasp against his mouth. Your gasp allowed Kakashi to explore your mouth with his tongue, he almost moaned. You tasted like sugar and sake; this was going to be his new favorite flavor. You allowed him to dominate your mouth, enjoying the way he felt encompassing you. His grip on your waist getting harder, making you moan into his mouth which just encouraged him more to dominate over you, feeling small and delicate in his grasp. He had such a strong hold on you, kissing you so passionately, hungrily as if you would disappear at any moment if he let go. The kiss was making you dizzy, if Kakashi wasn’t holding onto you so aggressively you don’t even think you would be able to keep yourself upright. You gain some composure as you bite his lower lip, pulling away to take a moment, which he doesn’t give you before he’s attacking your neck a growl coming from deep in his throat as you moan into his ear.

“Fuck, Kashi. We are in public.” You whimper, trying to slow him down. He bit down hard before pulling away.

“You’re right.” He says but doesn’t let you go pulling you into another breathtaking kiss, which you pull away too soon for his liking. You place his mask back on his face with a giggle, fireworks still going off behind y’all as you remove his hand from around your waist entangling your fingers with his.

“I know I’m right.” You put your head on his shoulder, your interlocked fingers in your lap. Fuck, you were definitely head over heels for this man. And if that kiss proved anything, he was still in love with you, which you had no clue why you were worried about in the first place. Y'all enjoyed the rest of the fireworks with your head on his shoulder as his thumb drew circles on your hand, fingers still entwined. After the fireworks were over, Kakashi packed everything up back in the basket and promptly grabbed your hand back into his. He was very serious about hand holding it seemed which made you giggle.

“Alright team, fun’s over. We gotta head back tomorrow so let’s call it a night.” You state walking up to the team as they were getting their own basket back together. You can see Sasuke's eyes dart to where you and Kakashi were connected before going back to what he was doing previously. This almost made you want to let go, feeling self-conscious but Kakashi held your hand tightly. Luckily, neither Naruto nor Sakura paid the two of you any mind as they started walking back to the inn. After getting back to the inn, Sasuke gives you a knowing look, which makes you step right on his foot before taking your leave to your own room. Why he insisted on trying to embarrass you was beyond you, such little brother behavior. Once back in the room, you immediately take down your hair, gently playing the pin Kakashi got for you on the desk. You head to the bathroom, to get ready for the night but unfortunately, while you are in there it seems like you can’t get your yukata untied.

“Um, Kakashi” You call to him from the bathroom. “Can you help me again? You tied this kind of tight ya know.”

He makes his way into the bathroom to assist you, the mask having already been discarded, hands working diligently to untie the knot himself created. Once he assisted you, he didn’t make a move to leave from behind you, instead moving your hair to one side giving him access to your neck again placing his lips there softly as his hands move to the front of your yukata.

“Kakashi” you whisper as you feel him untying the front. His mouth doesn’t move from your neck as he caresses your body.

“We aren’t in public.” He smirked against your skin before continuing his attack on your neck making you grip the sink in front of you arching your back into him.

“No, we aren’t” you whimper as you throw your head back, moving on of your hands to grip the back of his head. His hands roam your body as he sucks and bites at all the weak points of your neck leaving you gasping and moaning. When he realizes he can’t get the thing untied from behind you, he turns you around, lifting you up on the sink and immediately colliding his mouth onto yours. He begins to finally untie the front of your yukata breaking away only to take in your form in just your bra and panties, matching black lace set. One thing you always had confidence in was your body but now you were feeling almost shy, wanting to close back up. Kakashi inhales sharply as his hands run up your thighs.

“Fuck, you're beautiful, even more than before.”

Your form was filled out a little more than most 3 years ago. There were more curves to your hips, your breasts a bit fuller, and your legs so much thicker, Kakashi was mesmerized by the changes to your body, and he needed you desperately. His hand goes to your throat as he pulls you into a kiss, gently squeezing which makes your body unconsciously grind into him, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. You moan his way as he makes his way down your jawline, licking around your ear lobe whispering in your ear how great your body feels against his as his free hand roams your body. He removes his hand from your throat, replacing it with his mouth. his mouth makes its way across your shoulder making your body feel like it's on fire from his touch. Your hands move to his waist to untie the sash to take off his garments, but your hands are fumbling as he makes his way to your breasts, unfastening your bra with ease to take your nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck, Kakashi” you moan, leaving his garment alone to hold yourself on the sink. He went between biting and sucking on your nipple, sending intense waves of pleasure straight to your core as your head is thrown back with a moan. You attempt to pull him closer with your legs, wanting to feel more of his body against you but his hand grabs your thigh to stop your movements. He makes his way back up to your face, kissing you before moving to your ear again.

“Be patient, let me have this” he breaths into your ear and you think you could cum right then, you knew your panties were flooded at this point. You release your legs from around him, allowing him to have his way with you.

“Thank you”

His mouth was everywhere on your torso right then, kissing, sucking, biting every single inch of your skin. You were going to be covered in marks by the time he was done with you, but you were growing needier and needier with each feel of his mouth. You ached for him. He was touching you everywhere but the one place that would relieve your pressure.

“Kashi, please” You begged, not knowing how much more you could take. He goes to his knees looking up at you.

“Of course, princess” his mouth connecting with your clothed pussy as his hands knead your thighs, he was trying to kill you, you just knew it. His tongue swipes across your clit, still clothed teasing you even more. Your hands move to slide your panties down, but his hands come to stop you. “Not yet”

You whine at his actions, needing more of him. The thin layer of your panties separates him from your flesh. You push your hips more into him, not knowing how much more you could take without feeling him.

“Please” you whine, looking down at him and making him darkly chuckle as he finally grants your request by slowly, painfully slowly, dragging your panties down and off. He started to devour you like a man starved. His hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs apart as he feasted on you, overwhelming you with pleasure. Your hands go to grip his hair as you through your head back moaning his name like a bitch in heat. One of the hands that was gripping your thighs moves to your drenched entrance, placing two fingers inside while his mouth moves to suck and swirl around your clit.

“Don’t stop” you moan, feeling everything building up inside of you as his fingers move through you hitting the spot that makes you clench. He moans at your reactions to him which pushes you closer to the edge. The grip on his hair strengthens as you push him further into your cunt crying out his name as an orgasm rips through you, squirting all over his face.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you curse, your back arched as he keeps up his actions as you’re still going through your peak. It was almost too much as his attack on you slowed, finally able to get your breathing under control. He grins at you deviously, face wet from your release as he moves his way to capture your mouth with us. The taste of yourself on his tongue sends a shiver down your spine as you moan into his mouth. Your hands go between your bodies as you grab him, stroking him slowly as you use your own slick to lubricate his length.

“Princess” He growls against your mouth, pressing his body more into your hand. “Put me in, princess” He wanted it to sound like a demand, but it came out more of a whimper, needing to be inside you badly. He needed it almost as much as he needed air. You lift your hips as you guide him into you. Kakashi almost collapses as he feels himself enter you, so tight, so wet, so warm. “Fuck”

His movements are slow at first as he composes himself trying to allow you to adjust to him being inside you, but you don’t need that as he feels you start to grind back against him causing a curse to leave his lips.

“You’re going to kill me, pretty” He grunts as your hands start to rake across his back and he picks up his pace slamming into you fiercely. You’re moaning his name like a prayer, hands leaving streaks across his back and it’s driving him to the brink of insanity. His movements falter for a second as your walls are attempting to pull his cum out directly from his balls. You take this moment to roll over, letting yourself be on top of him, your movements are flawless as you immediately begin riding him not missing a single moment. You really may be the death of him. Fuck. His hands grab onto your hips as you grind against him, the grip he has on you is surely to leave bruises, but you don’t mind you're in complete ecstasy.

“Fuck, Kakashi” you moan fondling your breasts as you grind against him. “I’m gonna cum,” your toes curling as you feel him twitching inside of you, seeing that he’s just as close as you. “cum with me”

Your request spurred something new in him as he started ramming you from underneath making your head spin. You scream his name as you cum, HARD, feeling him cum with you as you collapse on top of him. You both are breathing heavily as you both come down for your highs, his hands gently stroking your back. Your eyes are growing heavy, and you feel so content and at peace for once in so long.

“I love you” your voice comes out, barely as a whisper. Kakashi’s hand stops moving on your back, gripping you to his body.

“I love you,” he says back, and you sigh happily feeling your eyes grow heavy.

Everything finally felt right, you felt right in his arms, you felt right with this team, and everything was good for you finally. You couldn’t wait to tell your sister when you got back, she would be so happy. You were so happy.

Is this what pure happiness felt like?

taglist: @smarsd @ferretsqueen @yellowflashof-theleaf

Taglist open

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Over Mountains Cold

Kili Durin x Reader

Words: 4931

Summary: On a quest for your family, you and your traveling companion get caught in a winter storm in the Grey Mountains. Your true feelings for your best friend come to light when you struggle to make it through the chilling night. 

Notes: The heater in my room is broken and the image of cuddling with Kili to get warm is just really nice to me, okay? I will use Aidan Turner to dissociate before I contact ever maintenance. (also, why can’t I just write fluff? Why does there have to be the angsty backstory of losing siblings? The world may never know)

Warnings: Kind of a chaotic plot. An ungodly amount of sexual tension. I don’t make the rules. 

-

Fili gave a final wave as he disappeared over the ridge, taking the ponies with him. His brother tried to calm the pit in his stomach. Not only was Fili off to retrieve more supplies alone, but the cold was setting in. If he didn’t make it to the next village by the time the snow started, he would get stuck out here. 

Just like you were. 

“We should go,” You sighed. “We’ll want to set up camp before it gets dark and I want to search the foothills to the east before the sun goes down.”

Kili looked up at the sky. “It’s going to be a cold night.” Already, his breath came out in puffs from his lips. “Maybe we should stay here until morning. It’s lower, so it’ll be warmer and the snow hasn’t reached us yet.” 

You stiffened and turned determined eyes towards him. “I won’t waste any time. If there’s a chance of finding my sisters out here, I’m taking it.” 

You waited for him to argue or tell you how foolish you were. Winter was on the horizon and these mountains would be impassable in the coming weeks. But your friend merely gave you a small smile and put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Then lead the way.” 

You wanted to kiss him. Well, you often wanted to kiss him, but in that moment, with his eyes full of trust and belief in you, no words could express your gratitude. But, coward that you were, you settled for a pat on the arm and an awkward nod. 

“Right. Follow me.” You hurried away from him before you could do something stupid. 

You’d known the dwarven princes for most of your life. Having grown up near the Blue Mountains, you spent a lot of time with Durin’s folk, listening to their stories, celebrating their festivals, and causing a little chaos with your two closest friends. You couldn’t count the times Kili and Fili had gotten you into some kind of trouble, but surely they would say the same thing about you. 

The younger prince walked beside you, telling you legends of ridiculous creatures living in these hills, trying to make you smile. It worked, of course. Between his grin and a bit of theatricality, he never failed to lighten your moods. 

Kili was your best friend. He was there for every prank, every adventure, and every heartbreak. When your village was attacked by raiders three years ago, he spent weeks tending to your injuries and trying to hunt down the people who’d hurt you. 

That’s when they were taken. Your two older sisters, Maryina and Baeriel. Sometime during the battle, those foul men came to your home and stole them away. You were nearly killed trying to defend them. Everyone told you they were dead. Even your parents didn’t have the heart to keep looking after so long, but you wouldn’t give up. You knew they were alive. Kili was the only one who believed you.

“Do you remember what you told me?” You asked suddenly. 

Kili turned his head, hazel-brown eyes bright in the afternoon sun. His brows furrowed with curiosity. 

You elaborated. “When I said I was going to find them. I said I’d search the whole of Middle Earth if I had to. What did you say?” 

Kili beamed. “I said ‘Well, you’re not doing it without me,’” he remembered. “‘You’d get lost.’” 

“Exactly,” you laughed. “And, I do believe that you lead us down more a stray path than I, dear friend.” 

“But we always found our way in the end, didn’t we?” Kili grinned. 

“That we did.” 

The two of you fell back into a comfortable silence with something heavier hanging between you. 

Grass swayed with dying breaths, green turned to dry white. Ahead, towering peaks capped with snow loomed like a massive, foreboding gate. You watched them with growing unrest. Kili’s shoulder brushed against yours as you walked as if just to remind you he was there. 

The afternoon stretched and yawned. The sun began to hover. With every passing hour, the more the light sank, so did your hopes. Your search in the foothills yielded nothing. Not even the remnants of a possible settlement. 

“They aren’t here,” you said. You ran a hand down your tired face, eyes scanning the vast landscape, the mountains at your back. You turned to Kili. “What if…”

You’d come here on a rumor that the raiders who took your sisters had a base in the Grey Mountains. But that’s all you had to go off of- rumors. 

“It’s the first day.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “We’ll keep looking.” Kili scanned the dense woods at the base of the mountains, hoping for some signal of smoke or any other sign of life. There was nothing. But he wasn’t going to give up hope and he certainly wasn’t going to let you. “Come, let’s set up somewhere to sleep. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “But if you’re saying you need to rest, then I suppose we can pitch the tent.” 

He rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Last one to the trees gathers firewood,” he challenged. The mischievous dwarf took off before you had the chance to process what he said. 

“Hey!” You called after him and ran as fast as your legs could carry. 

-

Usually, the three of you always camped out under the stars, but knowing how cold it would be, you brought a tent to provide a little shelter. But laying there, so close to him, the fabric barrier between you and the night sky seemed suffocating. 

It wasn’t the closest you’d ever been, of course. There had even been some nights where you found yourself asleep on his shoulder after a long day or he would doze off with his head in your lap. There was just something about this- something about the two of you enclosed together, alone- that felt different. 

You laid completely still, screwing your eyes shut, but your mind refused to rest. The form beside you shifted back and forth, twisting and turning. Kili grunted in frustration and turned onto his back. 

“Y/N?” He whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Unfortunately.” 

He blew out a breath. “We should sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. We’ll have to find some food in case Fili gets holed up somewhere.” 

You hummed and nodded. 

Both of you stared up at the slanted ceiling of the tent, not moving and not speaking. The tension alone chilled you to the bone, making you shudder. 

“Are you cold?” Kili asked. 

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, because I have an extra fur-”

“Kili, go to sleep.” You huffed, shifting to your side away from him so he couldn’t see the painful want in your eyes. 

Kili was more than just your best friend to you. He was your first love, the only person you’d ever loved, really. You’d had suitors in the past ask for your hand, but you declined them all. Your heart was no longer yours to give away. But you could never bring yourself to tell him. He was a prince, after all, and what were you? A nobody. 

You blinked away tears and curled up as close to the tent’s wall as possible. 

So close together and yet you couldn't feel more distant. 

-

The next day yielded even less results. The further you got into the mountains, the less hope you had that you were going in the right direction. The Eastern Pass took you higher in elevation and further away from Fili with the supplies. 

“Wait.” Kili stopped suddenly, putting a hand out in front of you. “Listen.”

You halted, the frostbitten ground shifting beneath your boots. At first, the slight breeze was all you could detect, but as the forest stilled, the subtle yet clear sound of hooves carried on the wind. 

And they were getting closer. 

“Get down.” You grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled. The two of you tumbled into a bush, losing your balance in your haste. Kili hit the ground. You fell onto his chest, knocking the breath out of both of you. 

Kili grimaced. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. Your faces turned a similar shade of pink, both trying to hide it from the other.

The familiar thudding against the forest floor increased in speed and volume. From your position, you could just see through the foliage that kept you hidden.  Kili craned his neck, blindly trying to get a glance. 

“Can you see them?” He asked. 

“Shh.” 

You kept your head low as you stared out. Watching. Waiting. As the horses neared, you decided there couldn’t be more than three. 

“We could take them,” you whispered, looking down. But the sight of Kili lying beneath you, hazel-brown eyes staring up into yours with his hair a mess below him was too much. It sent a burning, twisting feeling through your stomach. You looked back up at the road. “There aren’t many. We could fight and force them to tell us where they took my sisters.”

“Are you mad?” Kili hissed, shifting underneath you. His hips rocked up into yours by accident. He sucked in a breath. “It could be innocent travelers going through the mountains. Or worse, there could be a dozen fighters and we’d be dead in seconds.”

“Since when are you the cautious one?” You scoffed, ignoring his movements and prepping yourself to pounce. 

Kili locked his arms around your middle and rolled. He had you on your back before you could stop him, pinning you to the forest floor with his hands on either side of your head. 

“Since I’m trying to keep you from getting yourself killed,” he growled. 

Relieved that your hips were no longer pressed against his, Kili had put himself in another predicament hovering over your body, his lips mere inches from yours. 

It shamed him to think of how many times he’d imagined you like this.

He waited until the riders were past, counting three, just as you said, but they seemed only to be a father and his two children, both under the age of 16. Kili doubted that these were the raiders who had destroyed your home. One of them mentioned something about getting over the pass before the storm, which made him uneasy. 

Despite the heat of your bodies, the air was indeed growing colder. Clouds were gathering and a crisp, cool scent hung in the air. 

Kili stood and held out a hand to help you up. 

You didn’t take it. 

“We need to keep moving.” 

He swallowed. “We should head back to lower grounds. If we get caught in the pass, who knows how we’ll get out.” 

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you continued up the path. “I wasn’t asking.”

-

Kili walked behind you, neither saying a word. He saw the tension in your back shifting like you were already in battle. He only wished he could relieve at least some of the weight that bore down on your shoulders. Witnessing you in such pain hurt him more than he knew how to express. That, unfortunately, wasn’t the only thing he struggled to put into words. 

It had taken Kili long enough to finally admit his feelings for you to himself, but it was taking even longer for him to admit them to you. Fear wasn’t something that usually stopped him- he’d faced trolls and orc packs a dozen times over- but the idea of jeopardizing his friendship with you frightened him to no end. 

Still, lying there, pressed against you, had drummed all of those feelings up to the front of his mind. They distracted him from the real issue at hand and he tried to remind himself that you need him focused. You needed a warrior, not a love-sick errand boy. 

“If we keep at this pace, we can make it through the pass by morning,” you said grimly. 

Kili exhaled, his voice deep with concern. “Y/N, you need to rest.” 

“I need to find my sisters.” 

You kept walking. 

Kili kept his arguments to himself. Starting a fight now would only make you angrier and he didn’t want to risk you going off alone. 

He let out a low sigh. Being the responsible one was exhausting. 

Kili watched the sun with a concerned eye and discomfort growing in his stomach. His breath appeared in a cloud from his lips. But worse, flecks of white sent panic up his spine. The snow speckled the branches of the pines around them and added to the already thick blanket of frost that coated the ground. The further up, the deeper the snow banks. 

“These flurries won’t be flurries for long,” he warned. 

“We’ll make it.” 

You refused to turn back to look at him. If you did, you knew that one look at his face would make you forget your persistence. You would turn around and head back down the mountain and have to start all over again in the morning. So you kept your eyes ahead, despite the growing shiver down your spine. 

Besides, it was only a little snow. You and the brothers had faced worse on numerous occasions. 

Kili quickened his pace to take his place beside you again. 

“This way,” he said. “I’ve heard a shortcut through this pass.”

You raised a brow. “You’ve heard of one?”

“We’re here based on a rumor, aren’t we?” He retorted. 

You shrugged as if to say ‘fair enough.’ 

Kili took the lead as the air thickened with white flakes. The shortcut, while it existed as far as he knew, was not the true purpose of his change in direction. He’d read journals telling tales of adventures through these mountains and he remembered a checkpoint for many. A cave where they could take shelter from winter storms. He only hoped it was real. 

You began to regret your stubbornness as the cold seeped through your coat, the snow falling thicker and thicker, decreasing your visibility until you could see but a mere few feet in front of you. 

In a blink, the blizzard set in. 

You trudged on. Eyes blinded by white, you walk straight into the mass in front of you. Your companion’s warmth drew you in and you couldn’t help but press yourself against his back. His arm wrapped around, searching for yours. 

“Take my hand!” Kili called back to you. 

You did so without hesitation, wincing at the chilled state of his skin. 

“We’re nearly there!” He shouted over the wind. 

“That’s impossible! We haven’t even made it through the pass!”

“You’ll see.” 

Trust was the only thing you had left, your senses overtaken by the storm. And then suddenly, it stopped. Kili pulled you forward and the choking white curtained the opening of the cave behind you. Wind howled, but no longer deafened. 

“You knew this was here?” You gasped through chattering teeth. 

Kili gulped. “I hoped.” 

“You hoped?” 

“You kept going!” He held out his hands, fingers stretched and shaking with his words. “I didn’t know what else to do!” 

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” You ran a hand down your face, wincing at the freezing surface of your own skin, as well as the exhaustion overtaking your features. You paced back toward the blinding white outside. “We’ll stay here until the storm blows over and then we’ll keep going.” 

Standing at the opening of the cave, the wind still chilled you to the bone. Still, you watched, as if your sisters would magically appear and welcome you into their warm arms. 

As the image passed through your mind, you were gently pulled away from the wind by a hand as cold as yours, and yet it sparked the warmth that you needed. Kili placed a hand on your cheek, turning your face to his. 

“You’re exhausted,” he said. “We cannot afford to be careless. Not out here. We’ll go out again in the morning. You need to rest.” Before you could argue, he added, “We both do.” 

With the fog of determination outweighed by fatigue and frost, you sighed in defeat, hanging your head. 

“Alright,” you conceded. 

Kili put a finger under your chin and lifted your eyes. He gave you a small smile to which you couldn’t help but reciprocate. 

“Come on. We should set up the tent. It might not be much, but it can’t hurt.” 

Your chattering teeth gave no argument. There was no wood for a fire, the smoke would fill the small space anyway, so the thin cloth was your only added defense against the cold. 

Once inside, you both felt the same pull towards each other, your bodies craving the heat of another. But you stayed on the far side, as far as you could get, mind clouded by icy, frozen fear. Kili didn’t say anything, trying to ignore the ache in his chest as he tried to sleep. 

Your eyes couldn’t have been shut for more than a moment when you heard them. 

“Y/N!” 

“Y/N! Where are you?” 

You blinked to clear the tiredness from your eyes and listened. 

“It can’t be,” you whispered. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” 

Maryina and Baeriel. 

You listened again. 

“We’re here! Help us!”

Your sisters. They were out there. They were trapped in the storm. They needed you. 

You sat up, tossing aside the coat you’d been using for a blanket and ignored the bitter air seeping through your tunic. You didn’t feel it. You didn’t see your companion sleeping across from you. You didn’t hear the wind as you stepped out of the tent. You only heard your sisters’ cries…

And stepped out into the blizzard. 

-

Kili twisted and turned. As hard as he tried, sleep never stayed. He dozed off only to drift back, trying not to shiver. 

“I can’t sleep again,” he sighed. Kili flipped onto his other side. Rubbing his tired eyes, he opened them. The bundle of furs beside him took an odd shape. 

Empty. 

“Y/N?” 

He sat up and reached across the tent, feeling nothing but frigid air. Kili lifted his head, panic banishing any exhaustion left in his limbs. 

The untied opening of the tent flapped in the wind. 

“Y/N!” He called out. 

The storm screamed in response. 

He scrambled out of his bedroll and sprinted into the night. Fat, white flakes stuck to his face and eyelashes no matter how much he blinked them away. 

“Y/N!” He shouted again. 

Kili walked, trying to keep the cave in sight. The blizzard raged around him, concealing even the silhouette of the trees. He cried out your name again and again. With every passing second of silence, his chest grew tighter. 

Why would you have gone off alone? 

What if something had taken you?

There was no way for Fili to reach the cave until the storm settled, which meant he was completely and utterly alone. 

“Y/N!” 

It felt like hours before the wind let up and even then, snow continued to fall and the air turned even colder, creeping down Kili’s neck like a thousand icy-legged spiders. 

There, in the distance, he could just make out a shape, wandering and covered in a thick, frozen blanket. 

Kili ran as fast as his aching legs would allow, his boots sliding on the ice-coated ground. No matter how loud he shouted, it was as if you couldn’t hear him. You trudged on, the snow almost reaching your knees. You didn’t even have your coat. If he didn’t get you out of this cold, you would surely be lost to the white nothingness that surrounded you. 

“Y/N, what are you-” Kili moved to grab your arm and found that your eyes were closed. Ice stuck to your face where tears had fallen and your blue lips muttered the same two things over and over again.

“Maryina…. Baeriel….” 

Kili’s heart shattered like an icicle falling to the earth. 

“Y/N, love, wake up,” he pleaded, gently taking hold of your shoulders. He had to stop himself from recoiling. Even through your tunic, you were like a statue, freezing to the touch. “We need to get back to the cave. I need to get you to a fire. I need to get you warm.” 

Already, you looked like a walking corpse. 

But your eyes were starting to open.

“K-Kili?” You muttered through chattering teeth. “What’s going on? I’m so…” You stepped forward, falling against him. “I’m so cold.” 

Kili didn’t hesitate. He scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. He followed his own footprints as they were slowly being covered again by the falling snow. By some miracle, he made it back to the cave. He hurried into the tent, wishing he had the material for a fire. For now, all he had was hope. 

“I heard them,” you said, still dazed. “I heard their voices calling to me in the storm.” 

“And you followed it?” He gasped, quickly undoing the fastens of his coat. “Are you mad? Even if they were out there, you’re no good to them frozen to death.” 

Kili shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“No, Kili.” You tried to push him away, but he was stronger, fueled by panic and determination. “Kili, you’ll freeze.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said harriedly. He tied the entrance of the tent to keep out the frigid wind and laid down, gently pulling you along with him. Kili rubbed his hands up and down your arms, careful to keep the heap of furs wrapped tightly around you. He held you against his chest, his tunic slightly undone so you could feel the heat of his skin against your cheek. 

As his warmth broke through the icy surface that suffocated your entire body, your mind started to clear. It started to wake up.

And when it did all you could see was his wide, golden-brown eyes searching yours with a fire you’d seen a few times before. Once when you’d been separated from him and his brother for a week on a particularly stressful journey and the other when your village was attacked and your sisters were taken. Each time, he looked as though he was looking at the sun for the first time. 

At the time, you didn’t understand, or perhaps you didn’t let yourself understand. You understood now what that fire meant. 

He was, and would always be, your shelter. 

Like magnets, you somehow were drawn together still, despite already being impossibly close. The air between you was hot with your breathing. Everything seemed to stand still, from the raging winds outside to the racing heart inside your chest. 

Neither of you said a word, an entire conversation held simply in the lock of your gazes. 

Kili’s hand cradled the back of your head, laying it against his chest. You felt the soft, sweet warmth of his lips on your forehead. 

Despite the hauntings of your mind, your heart gave you leave to rest in the strength and comfort of Kili’s embrace, allowing both of you to slip back into the persistent reach of slumber. 

-

The storm blocked the pass by morning and, without any equipment, there was no way to get over. It had all been for nothing. 

Fili found you halfway back down the mountain, the pony’s back covered with more supplies. 

“What happened to you two?” He asked.

“We couldn’t find them,” you snapped, hurrying ahead of both of them. 

Fili turned to his brother. 

Kili shook his head. 

Your party of three traveled until you found the nearest tavern and the boys made you stop for the night, watching exhaustion seep into your every step. 

Dinner was had in silence with an air hanging so thick that Fili felt he would choke on it. He could never imagine the two of you fighting- he knew that his brother would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. But he also knew Kili’s true feelings towards his best friend and Fili couldn’t help but wonder if something had been revealed while he was gone. 

“We’ll start up toward the northern villages in a few days,” Kili said. “It’ll give us some time to rest, regroup, and plan.” 

You stared at your plate. “What’s the point?” 

Both turned to you. 

Kili’s eyes softened. “Y/N, you don’t mean that.”

“They’re gone, Kili.” You blinked back tears. “We could search until the end of time and we still wouldn’t find them.”

“Then to the end of time we will look because I am not giving up,” he insisted. His dark eyes took on that glimmer from last night, igniting something within you. 

Your nightmare wasn’t the only thing that frightened you. 

“I’m going to my room,” you said, pushing away from the table. Your form disappeared up the stairs with the gaze of both princes trailing after you. 

Kili sighed, running his fingers through his long, dark hair. 

“You just going to let her go?” Fili scoffed. 

“What would you have me do?” 

Fili shook his head and took a drink of his ale. 

Kili narrowed his eyes. “What?”

His brother raised a brow. “Y/N is the most stubborn, persistent, devoted woman I’ve ever met. She isn’t giving up on looking for her sisters. She’s worried about continuing the search with us.” 

“What?” Kili exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

“Kili, brother,” Fili sighed. “I’m saying maybe my absence was exactly the two of you needed and you’re both still avoiding what I’ve seen for as long as we’ve known Y/N.” He finished off his ale and snatched Kili’s away before he could protest. “Now go talk to her.” 

Kili swallowed, staring at the steps. It took one final shove from his brother to actually get him to stand up and move. 

As he ascended the stairs, Kili thought about everything Fili had said. What did he mean, his absence was what you two needed? What did he know that Kili didn’t? 

Of course, the younger prince knew exactly what his brother meant. He’d always known, even when he didn’t know how to admit it. But waking up in that tent, the panicked thoughts of you out in the storm, alone, the terror of losing you to the ice and snow, and holding you in his arms to keep you warm all revealed exactly what had been in his heart all these years. 

He loved you. 

Perhaps Fili was right. 

Maybe it was time to finally tell you. 

Kili found your room and stood before it for a good long while. He tried raising his hand to knock, but he was just… frozen in place. 

What if this was a mistake? 

What if decades of friendship fell apart in this moment?

What if-

The door opened and his heart stopped. 

You startled back at the sight of his big brown eyes. The eyes you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. The ones you wanted to get lost in and never be found. And he was there, waiting for you. 

You both opened your mouths to speak and stopped, waiting for the other person, leaving you both in a tense silence. The same tension from the tent. The one that drew you together, closer and closer. 

“Kili, I-”

His lips caught yours, silencing the words you still weren’t sure how to say. You let your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, closer still if that was even possible. Every moment, every breath from the last few days had been leading to this. And all either of you could think was one word. 

Finally. 

And as Fili watched you pull Kili into your room, kicking the door closed behind him, he was thinking the same thing. 

“Finally,” he muttered, shaking his head as he went to his room, glad to have it to himself for a change. 

-

Kili’s lips brushed against your forehead, the rest of your body completely tangled with his. Your arms wrapped around his bare chest, your legs wound between his, and your head was tucked under his chin. Your naked skin burned against each other but you never wanted it to stop. 

And between every sigh, every pleasured cry or whispered word came one phrase. I love you. 

He said it again, now. “I love you.” 

You turned to look up at him. Into those eyes. The gaze that captured you more and more every time. 

“And I you,” you said, kissing his collarbone, then his jaw, then finally his lips. “I have loved you ever since you taught me to shoot an arrow through the apples on our tree.” 

Kili grinned, deepening the kiss and moving so his face hovered over yours. 

“I’m still not giving up, you know,” he whispered. “We will find your sisters. And we will do it together.”

You wrapped a brown curl around your finger and nodded. 

“I know. Before, I was just… scared.” You turned your head away. “That storm took me to a place I don’t want to go again.”

Kili laid a hand on your cheek, bringing your eyes back to his. “I’ll keep you safe.” He kissed your forehead again. “I promise.” 

After letting the seriousness of your words settle for a moment, you grinned mischievously and rolled so that you straddled him. 

“We should have tried this sooner,” you smirked. 

Kili laughed and rolled again, putting him back above you. “It’s certainly a good way to stay warm.”

[galaxiasgreen]

🎆🎇Flowers in the Sky

Ominis oneshot with fluff and light angst [G-rated, 2.6k]

“What do they look like?” he asked into her silence. “Fireworks?” After a pause, she gathered the tips of her fingers together, touched his forehead, and spread them quickly. “Like flowers in the sky,” she murmured. “Blooming outwards in the most vibrant colours you could ever imagine. Just looking at them makes you feel… hopeful.”

Ominis Gaunt had never celebrated Guy Fawkes Night, until one day he was caught unawares in third year.

A/N: Written for the prompt 'comfort food'. Feat. Gibby as the Reader as usual, but with more focus on their friendship. Short and fluffy, light angst. Enjoy! <3

[read on AO3]

Remember, remember, the fifth of November… — English folk poem, 1870

When Ominis was seven, Aunt Noctua invited him over for her birthday.

It was the first time he’d been allowed to leave the house without family supervision. His father, in particular, did not care to celebrate his sister, and since Ominis was his least favourite son, he had no qualms leaving him at her estate for a few hours, if it could give him a moment to forget Ominis existed at all.

Ominis didn’t mind. He got to spend time with his favourite aunt, and that alone was wonderful.

At sundown, she had the house elves prepare a cold dinner of game pie and honey-soaked parsnips that they ate in the morning room, Ominis babbling about his recent achievements, learning more braille words, new facts he’d picked up and new answers to questions he’d learnt about the world. Noctua was patient and listened intently, and when dinner was finished, Ominis sang her happy birthday over a cake three inches wide and plumped with buttercream frosting.

“Happy birthday, auntie,” he finished.

“Thank you, Ominis,” she said, clearly amused. “Would you like a slice?”

They moved to the parlour overlooking the modest gardens, walls a dark, pine green that absorbed enough lamp glow that it left them in relative darkness. With Noctua’s permission, Ominis took the cake to the sofa by the window to eat, digging the fork in by the light of moon.

A sudden, deafening bang from far in the distance made him flinch – he dropped his cutlery, and the plate skittered off his lap and shattered on the floor.

“Ominis! Oh, dear.” Noctua set her plate aside to kneel by the shards. “Are you cut?”

“No, I-I’m sorry, I don’t—”

It clapped again, a pulsing through Ominis’ ears. He shot up and scrambled back from the window.

“What— what is that? Is someone coming to hurt us?”

In seconds Noctua was gently rubbing his shoulders, easing a panic that made his heart beat too fast. “I’m sorry, Ominis, I should’ve warned you. It’s the Muggles in the nearby village, they’re celebrating Guy Fawkes Night.”

“W-What’s Guy Fawkes Night?”

“It’s a festival, don’t worry. Hundreds of years ago a Muggle named Guy Fawkes attempted to explode parliament buildings using barrels of gunpowder— oh, here comes another—”

This time he managed to steel himself against the great clanging that followed, and the ricochet of sharper bursts after that. Noctua hushed him, guiding him back to the sofa. His stomach churned. That noise was like a new log that crackled in a fireplace, only about ten times louder and far more unpleasant.

“They celebrate someone destroying their Ministry?”

“He failed, Ominis. That’s what they’re celebrating. Those loud noises – they’re fireworks. Little explosions of colourful gunpowder in the sky. It’s… imagine a Confringo hex, except brighter, more… beautiful.”

It certainly didn’t sound appealing. Like thunder without the growling build-up or the steadier heartbeat of rain. At least that, Ominis could brace for. Fireworks were one, abrupt beat. How could anyone find that beautiful? Another burst, making the hair on his arms stand.

“Can’t they celebrate quietly?”

Noctua chuckled. “Muggles don’t do life quietly, as you know. Reparo, Scourgify.” The plate mended itself and the rug was cleaned, but there was no saving the smashed cake. “I’ll fetch you another slice.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, expecting punishment.

But Noctua’s voice was a soft lilt, at odds with the cacophony outside. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “My birthday happens to coincide with Guy Fawkes every year. I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to the sound.”

She talked much about the holiday that evening. Ominis wasn’t one for the histories of his own people, let alone the Muggles – but this festival piqued his curiosity enough to sit and listen between the staccato march of the fireworks. Despite how barbaric and antiquated the festivities were, there was something oddly charming about Guy Fawkes Night. A celebration of rebels’ folly. At one point Noctua quietened, head lolling to the window when the fireworks grew in frequency, and Ominis could tell she was relishing the spectacle.

“What do they look like?” he asked into her silence. “Fireworks?”

After a pause, she gathered the tips of her fingers together, touched his forehead, and spread them quickly. “Like flowers in the sky,” she murmured. “Blooming outwards in the most vibrant colours you could ever imagine. Just looking at them makes you feel… hopeful.”

She stroked his head then, knowing he would never, truly, understand. Ominis was content with it. He couldn’t enjoy the fireworks, but if she wanted this quiet revelry, who was he to stop her?

It became an annual tradition for them. On the fifth of November, allowed a few hours of recreational time together, Noctua invited Ominis over to enjoy her birthday fireworks together. The cake varied each time, from chocolate to red velvet to Victoria sponge, and though it wasn’t his favourite dessert, nor were the sounds he came to associate it with, something compelled him to accept the invitation each year. That something, the memories of spending one evening where he didn’t have to worry about his parents or Marvolo or whatever Dark Magic they employed in the annals of nightfall, became a comfort he looked forward to every winter season.

And when Noctua went missing, the compulsion dimmed – it would be wrong to celebrate without her, a strike against her memory. So he held off at first year at Hogwarts, clinging to the silent promise to wait until she returned.

She didn’t that year. Nor the second. On those days he retreated to his dorm and drew the curtains around his bed, wondering where Noctua had gone and whether, at that moment, she was remembering those evenings at the window of parlour too, the sky awash with flame and light. He did not understand what it was to look upon colour, but without his aunt to guide him through life, he did understand the feel of monochrome.

By third year, when the pain of Noctua’s disappearance had faded to scars, he was caught unawares during dusk on the fourth, when the rapid drumbeats in the sky signalled the start of Hogsmeade’s annual fireworks display. He’d flinched, startling you as you were crossing the bridge back towards the common rooms before dinner.

“Oh! Are you all right?” you asked, flicking your head between him and the village in the distance. “Is it the fireworks?”

“They’ve caught me off-guard, is all,” he said, taking a breath. Suddenly he could smell Noctua’s parlour, musky with clove and cinnamon and the dust of icing sugar. “I forgot it was the fifth tomorrow.”

“Ooooo, I love Bonfire Night! They used to have a big one in the middle of Waterlow Park, but then they moved further out the city to stop ‘trees catching fire’. Booooo! My friends and I got to run around the fancy, rich people houses asking for stuff to chuck in.”

“Sounds perfectly suited to you,” he mused.

“It was! I love burning things! HAHAHAH!” A firework howled skywards, trailed by a boom. “What do you do to celebrate? Shoot spells up, or something?”

“I’ve never been to a celebration.”

You stopped right in the middle of the bridge. He sighed. Here we go.

“You’ve never been to a Bonfire Night? Never thrown the little twig effigies into a fire? Or gone to a fireworks display?”

“Wizards don’t celebrate Guy Fawkes Night, Gibby. It’s not a tradition for us.”

“But why not? Imagine how different the magical world would be if the Muggle government exploded! There would be chaos!”

He snorted. “Any more than this morning, when you knocked over a crate of Chinese Chomping Cabbages that shredded twelves sets of robes?”

“Hey, I said I was sorry! And they shouldn’t have put that crate so close to me. Garlick knows I’d topple Big Ben if I could.”

“Regardless,” he said, withholding the deep urge to pinch his nose, “I can’t see fireworks, remember? I have no notion what appeals about them. To me they’re simply loud and jarring noises.”

“Ohhhh.” You hummed with thought. “Okay, they are very loud, but I promise they’re really pretty! Like big, brilliant bursts of colour.”

“I’m sure.”

You stopped, and tugged on his sleeve to stop him too.

“So you don’t like Bonfire Night?”

“I didn’t say that.” The bridge was empty, but he lowered his voice anyway. “It’s my aunt’s birthday on the fifth. She’s been missing for a few years now.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” Although the truth of it hollowed him out. “I used to celebrate with her at her house. She’d feed me cake and we’d watch the fireworks together. She used to describe them to me, the colours. In hindsight, I think she was ashamed she enjoyed them.”

“Because they were Muggle?”

“Because I couldn’t.”

“Well, we’ll just have to change that, won’t we?” You jabbed a thumb towards the village. “Let’s go to Hogsmeade tomorrow! It’ll be fun, promise!”

“She was right, Gibby,” he said gently. “I wouldn’t be able enjoy them as you do. So thank you, but I’ll pass. Sebastian or Anne might like to go.”

You opened, then closed your mouth, and Ominis was about to let the subject go and tug you along before suddenly—

“OH MY GIDDY AUNT, I HAVE A GREAT IDEA! This is going to blow your socks off! Don’t go anywhere!” You started off, then jogged on the spot. “I mean, do go anywhere! But keep thinking! Thinking thoughts! See you later!”

“What are you—?” But you had already squeezed through the door and scampered ahead. “Wha—? Gibby!”

There was no telling what machinations were concocting in that head of yours. Sighing, Ominis gathered his things, casting an ear one last time to the fireworks in the distance. At least Noctua would be happy he’d made some approximation of a friendship, despite how frequently you befuddled him with your odd Muggle behaviour. Would his aunt like you as much as she liked the fireworks?

Or was it pointless to wonder for someone who was probably dead?

The next day, Sebastian and Anne were chatting about the Hogsmeade fireworks display over lunch, and how excited they were to go.

“Want to come, Ominis?” Anne leant to him and added with a whisper, “Gonna’ ram a sparkler down Sebastian’s trousers. You won’t want to miss it.”

“I’ll shove your head in a Catherine Wheel, how about that?”

“No, thank you,” Ominis said, as Anne kicked her brother under the table. “But I’m certain Gibby will enjoy it.”

“She’s not going either,” she said crossly. “What’s with you two? You’re not going off to snog, are you?”

That was odd. It wasn’t as if you were doing anything tonight – and you’d certainly not expressed disinterest in going yesterday.

“He hasn’t denied it,” Sebastian added smugly.

Ominis scoffed and got to his feet. “Yes, a passionate snogging session. It’s been booked for weeks. Tongue was an extra Sickle.”

He didn’t manage to find you before the lunch hour ended, leaving him in an unnerving state of suspicion. Your ‘ideas’ were about as safe as Garreth’s potions experiments. Every corner he turned, he feared someone would light a rocket or shoot a cannon in his face, but as night fell and the fireworks began outside, his fears slowly cooled to a low simmer. You must have gone, or forgotten. Either was ideal.

“OMINIS! There you are!”

Just as he reached the Slytherin common room, bound for an evening of relaxation, he found you hovering by the pillars with a tub strapped around your shoulders.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” you said, restless with excitement. “Dump your stuff and let’s go!”

“Go where? I thought you were going to Hogsmeade?”

“I had a better idea! Quick, we don’t want to miss any more!”

Reluctantly he left his bag and things aside, and let you lead him through hallways, across bridges and up stairs until you’d brought him to one of the Bell Tower’s balconies facing Hogsmeade and the sky beyond. The fireworks display was in full effect, barraging the air with streams of explosive confetti, but it was bitingly cold.

“Are you going to explain what you’re doing?”

You roped a blanket and scarf around his shoulders. “Yes, just— hold on…” Then you opened the tub’s lid. “Huzzah!”

Flicking his wand, he pieced together the scene: you, holding something out to him rectangular in shape. A tray. So you’d made something. Tentatively he reached forwards, brushing his fingertips over a warm papery baking cup, and the springy cake within.

“Fairy cakes!” you said. “Cakes so small a fairy could eat it. No actual fairies involved, thankfully.”

He took one, skimming his finger cautiously over the cake’s top, catching a small coin of frosting. Vanilla, he recognised, when he licked the spot off his nail. The cake itself had barely risen over the cup’s rim; it really was small enough for a fairy.

“I know your aunt went missing,” you said, lowering the tray, “but it sounded like she really cared about you, and you miss her, so I thought you might like to remember her…”

It wasn’t sadness or loss he felt, that sudden rush up his chest. It was yearning, nostalgia. Just the smell of the cakes and sound of the applauding fireworks, the percussive bass to your melody alto, was enough to coax a pensive smile to his lips.

Yes, he thought. It is nice to remember her.

“This is very kind. Thank you.”

Encouraged, you took a cake for yourself and knocked it against his. “Cheers!” you cried, a toast. “I didn’t know what flavour you liked so I made two sets of six.”

“You spent all evening on a dozen cakes?”

“Oh, pffft, Ominis, I can make these with my eyes closed. I took so long because there’s one more surprise! Try it!”

He took a bite. The flavour wasn’t gentle – it exploded full-force in his mouth, the sharp punch of lemon mellowed by the sweeter notes of elderflower, fluffy, moist and— hard?

The granule rolled along his tongue like sugar – when he crunched into it, it popped, sending a wave down his taste buds like a thousand fingers playing piano. The sensation was overwhelming. Pop pop pop pop pop. He froze at first, trying to understand what was happening, an allergic reaction, poison? – no, you would never – but quickly realised it wasn’t unpleasant at all. Actually it was… amusing.

“Do you like it?” you asked, bouncing. “Do you?”

“What is this? I— my mouth is… fizzing?”

You giggled. “It’s called fizzing candy! An American wizard made it. Not made public yet. He sent some to Honeydukes to sample!”

“But—” His brow tightened. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you make me cake with this fizzing candy?”

On cue, a firework shattered outwards, but no matter how loudly it clamoured over the horizon, it could never smother the sound of your laugh.

“To show you, silly! That cake… that’s what a firework is like. Explosive, and lively, and fun! And since you can’t see them, I figured you might as well taste them.”

It made sense how Noctua described them now. Like a Confringo hex in edible form. Everything, from the flavour, texture and now the fizz, pictured a firework so clearly in his mind it was as if he’d kissed the night sky.

And he supposed… yes, it was rather beautiful in its own way.

You bit into your own cake and chewed with your mouth open, making a noise that sounded like “Fee’s so funny!” as the fizzing candy crackled. “Wha’ do you fink?”

A firework squealed as he grinned.

“It’s wonderful.”

When it exploded, he took another tentative bite and found himself laughing, raising a hand cover his mouth, an attempt to preserve his manners. But you started to laugh too, big and brilliant and bursting, no care to what you looked like and how loud you were.

It gave him more hope than any flower in the sky.

Please like/ reblog/ share if you enjoyed <3

[A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet masterlist] [Divider credit]

[ofmdrecaps]

10/02-03/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Kristian Nairn; Rachel House; Vico Ortiz; Anapela Polatavaio & David Fane; Lindsey Cantrell; Dominic Burgess; OFMD Rewind/Lube As a Crew; Fan Spotlight: Never Left Podcast; Gay Pirate News Hour; Love Notes;

Hey crew! It's gonna be another day of catching up because wow- lots happened, and lots of life has happened to! Will do my best to get 10/04 up with catch up stuff as well tonight!

== David Jenkins ==

David is promoting Kristian's book! Simone is helping!

Source: David's Instagram

== Rhys Darby ==

Although these are from last year, they were just posted by Gabe Ross, so here they are!

Source: Gabeross42 instagram

More pics to come from the Largo Los Angeles "Rhys Darby Saying Funny Things Society" show that happened on the 10/01! You can actually see some extra stuff from the show on Rhys' Substack!

Source: Largo Los Angelos Instagram

== Taika Waititi ==

Wanna see a video of Taika participating in the Haka World Record? Check it out over on tiktok!

Source: Cristalmkt on Tiktok

Taika posted the new trailer for the latest season of WWDITS!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Taika Waititi (@taikawaititi)

Source: Taika's Instagram

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian was out at Forbidden Planet doing signings! Did you get a chance to go?

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== Samba Schutte ==

Samba is going to be joining the team of Legend of Vox Machina for season 3!

Source: Samba's Instagram Oh and remember Best Life? It won 3 Awards of Merit from the Best Shorts Competition!

Source: Valerie Chaney's Instagram

Heyy! Good news, Advanced Chemistry is coming out on 10/8 on digital!

Source: Samba's Instagram Stories

== Anapela Polataivao & David Fane ==

Anapela's new movie Tina premiered in Hawai'i on 10/03/2024! Lots of pics of the cast at the premier!

Source: Tina The Film Instagram / David Fane's Instagram Stories

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico participated in the ActNOW's September Scene Study class (Justice for my Sister Fellowship) and helped the next generation of folks learn about "inclusive and trauma informed filmmaking for radical, authentic storytelling"!

Source: Instagram

Vico's voiced a new Audio book thats available now! Jasmine is Haunted is available at your local library and anywhere Audiobooks are sold!

"Jasmine Garza has a problem... and it’s not just the ghost that’s been haunting her for years! 👻 Perfect for any young listener who loves Ghostbusters, this queer, #LatinX paranormal fantasy is a fun and thrilling ghost hunting adventure perfect for spooky season. Available now everywhere #audiobooks are sold and at your local library with @hoopla.digital and @libbyapp! ✨🎧"

Source: Dreamscape Media Instagram

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic knows all too well how to get my attention. More Cat content.

Source: Dominic Burgess Twitter

== Rachel House ==

Rachel's film Te Maunga (The Mountain) was awarded the CIFEJ Award at the Schlingel Film Festival! Oh - and Correction, The Mountain movie was available 10/02/24 on digital in AoNZ and AUS. It's not available yet int the US. Sorry about the confusion!

Source: Rachel's Instagram

Another shot of Rachel at Tiff!

Source: birdrunningh2o Instagram

== Lindsey Cantrell ==

Our dear Set Designer Linds Cantrell shared some shots of a bakery in Auckland. Now-- is she clearing out her phone, or is there more to it? You decide :)

Source: Linds Cantrell Instagram

== OFMD Rewind ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew and @astroglideofficial kept the OFMD Rewind Watch Party going on the 3rd, and got it trending! Wanna see the tweet thread and have access to twitter? Visit them here! If you don't have access to twitter and want to see it, visit the Renewal Repo!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Never Left Podcast =

Some fun news from the Never Left Podcast team! They interviewed Etana Jacobson & Alec Moore, Director & Writer of Advanced Chemistry! Keep an eye out for it on October 8th!

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram

= Gay Pirate News Hour =

Another episode of Gay Pirate News Hour is back Oct 5, 2024 1pm Pacific, 4PM Eastern on Youtube! Hosted by Our Flag Means Fanfiction, and joining are @ringasunn and IreneAdler. So excited for the next episode! (One of these days my life will calm down and I might get to join them). Check it out on OFMFF Youtube!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction

== Love Notes ==

Happy Friday Lovelies! I realize this recap is for weds and thursday but I'm gonna roll with it! I hope the rest of the week was kinder to you than the previous parts of the week. Please know we're thinking of you crew, it's okay if you're keeping low on the radar of fandom at the moment. It's also great if you're out honking your nose off! Whatever you're doing is what you need to do, and don't let anyone tell you any different. I know sometimes it seems like things just keep getting worse, lovelies, the world is a chaotic place, and it's okay to sit with your feelings and feel that. Just remember you're loved and it can and will get better one day. There will always be high points and low points in this life, that's just how it goes, but how you cope with those points changes for the better each and every time they pass. Remember you are wonderful, and you are strong, and you're gonna get through whatever you're dealing with, okay? Sending love and hugs, and all the good vibes into your weekend <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by bailey ☻ (@anxiety.positive)

Source: Anxiety.Positive Instagram