#cause its not something i usually do 😭

[solplease]

clingy

[abimee]

hi i can no longer act coy or hope that a job will come in time so im coming to everyone really embarassingly with my issues

in June I attempted to get fired from/left my job after having a really embarassing public meltdown due to having Rapid-Cycling Mixed Bipolar and the unending stress of that job of 3+ years. I've been struggling to get a job afterwards due to being in CA without a vehicle, and i'm currently working on an overdue commission so could not open up any more.

Soon after, my mother's car imploded, and a series of incidents related to a used engine and taking out a loan with a friend has left her both needing to pay back the loan and still needing to get a new car, putting her thousands in the hole.

my mother has allowed me to not worry about paying rent while unemployed, but now the person living with us is moving out, so it will be on me and my mother to pay rent, upping mine from $300 to $500 a month. I am currently job hunting with good prospects, but I am still in need of some assistance.

I DO NOT WANT TO ASK FOR DONATIONS WITHOUT GIVING SOMETHING IN RETURN, I have a very bad time taking help from people without doing something in return because I do not want people to feel like they Have to give me money or help me, I want to Offer something in return for that money, even in a situation like this, because I want everyone to come out on the other end feeling fulfilled, so I'm offering some (slow) cheaper commissions I can work on in between the bigger comm I owe.

My kofi is always open for donation sketches ---- you can donate the minimum amount (or whatever you prefer) and get a drawing like this of anything as long as you put it into the donation message!

i cant currently take on big commissions as I have one i owe and the commissioner is a very generous person who has been waiting a good few months for me to finish one during this hectic time, but if you're interested in getting something a little higher quality for a donation, a $30-50 USD donation can get you a ''simple commission'' styled drawing --- that is, you give me a prompt and character refferences (ocs or fanart, up to 2-3 characters depending on complexity), and I draw them like below (color complexity depends on price, the higher the amount the more the color).

You wont have access to revisions to make this as fast as possible, so i HIGHLY reccomend only getting fanart comms of these and to make sure you really like my style!!

this is one of those situations where I DEEPLY reccomend people do not donate unless they want something in return, if you dont wanna ask for a drawing or anything i reccomend going to people in more dire circumstances and helping them out with your donation!!!

but if you want to help me help my mother get out of a bad financial situation and get a little drawing in return, you can do a small dono and att a message of what you want doodled, or you can email me at cyrdrawings@gmail.com your $30-50 donation reciept and what you would like me to draw, and ill try to get them as soon as I can

thank you so much for checking this post out and keep it real old school!!!!! i promise once this is over and i get a job we'll be back to your regularly scheduled art posting

[EDIT: PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG THIS VERSION. I AM NO LONGER TAKING THE SIMPLE COMMISSION TIER. REBLOG THE ADDITION TO THIS POST GIVING AN UPDATE]

[themintman]

yall y'all y'all I always forget that like. I post public art. On a public account. Like I don't realise that people actually SEE my art or think about it or whatever. Bbut. My GOODNESS. this month I have seen my art in the wilderness and I AM. TERRIFIED???? HELLO???? PEOPLE KNOW ABOUT MY PUBLIC ACCOUNT????? it's so scary goodness me. ANYWAYS KNOW THAT IF YOUVE REFRENCED MY ART AT ALL I DO KNOW. I HAVE SEEN IT AND I AM PROBABLY FREAKIG THE FUCK OUT GOODNESS ME. IM JUST TOO SCARED TO RESPOND BEYOND LIKE. A LIL EMOJI REACTION. HHH

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

making a sorta wip/unfinished compilation video thing for all the vsynth projects ive sorta lost interest in/abandoned sounds like it'd be fun to do and help me clear up some space on this got damn computer but im always like uouguhhh but what if it fucking sucks :( when it comes to like actual cover stuff 😔✌️ like mannn

[rieaj]

“i love you, but that dick is a plus.” ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

———

who in enha has the biggest dick? (hyung line only)

warnings: enha hyung line x reader (seperate !!), smut, unprotected sex, blowjobs, missionary, p in v, talks about dick sizes, dacryphilia, mdni !!

others: enjoy this for now, cause ive been losing motiv for a couple if days cs its been hectic asf 😭 ill post more content soon. but for now this is enough to feed y’all’s horny selves 🫶

———

lee heeseung. this man 😖. he’s big alright. 6’0ft tall he’s got big hands, feet, etc. meaning to say he’s got a big dick too. 8 inches when soft, 9 1/2 when hard. i feel like he wouldn’t be as thick as jay or jake. but this man is for sure long. i also bet he and jay would have big balls. he’d prolbably have shaved hairs that were slightly the same as sunghoon’s not too hairy or too shaved down. heeseung is the type to love blowjobs. sucking down on his long cock, just to have him push your head just to hear your whimper and gags. he’d like to fuck you in missionary just to watch his cock slowly go in and out of you whilst watching your teary eyed face.

park jay. he’s thick for sure. 7 inch when soft, 8 1/2 when hard. thick girth and a mushroom tip that would be an angry red type of color. the base would be a little tanner than his skin, and for his hair, i bet he shaves it every 2 weeks max. its neat and not so hairy. gotta be clean to satisfy his girl (>.<) jay would also be the type to be the softest and most loving in bed. he loves reassuring you and talking you through it. this man would also have the best aftercare. jay could also go rough and hard, only if he would be in a bad mood or jealous. (we’ll discuss this soon !) overall, jay just has big dick.

sim jake. thickest. 7 1/2 inches when soft, 8 when hard. jake isn’t exactly the longest. but he beats them in girth. he’s a thick boy. even just the tip inside your already stretched out so wide. his base color would be a little darker than his skin tone. he has a big tip that whenever he was hard it would be such an angry pink and constantly leak pre-cum. jake would not have any hairs at all. poor baby always feels so guilty whenever he sees you in tears as soon as an inch of his dick stretches you out. always shushing you and reassuring that the pain would be gone.

park sunghoon. i feel like he would be the biggest. a positive, 8 1/2 inch when soft. a solid 9 when hard. sunghoon would most like be the one to know his dick the best, and also use it correctly. his dick is girthy with a usual peachy color on his tip. the base color would be a the same color as his usual skin, and he would most likely have a neat shave, something like the hair still being there but at the same time it’s not too bushy. sunghoon would also have some best dick game. there is never a time you won’t be pleasured after being with him. he would also most likely HATE wearing condoms. unless that is, you want him to. anything for his girl <3 but for me i think he wouldn’t really like it cs he wants you to feel every inch and vein of him pulse inside you :0

———

yall ive been busy this is all i could come up w rn. its not my best work, but ive just been too lazy. i’ll do better soon 😞

[pomefioredove]

if its ok can i request a overblot boys and ruggie and kamil with a reader that just forgets to eat? like they can go the whole day without eating then suddenly they just get dizzy cause they haven't eaten and when they get asked why they passed out/not ate they're like "lol yeah i forgot to eat my bad gang🧍🏻" they're just so nonchalant and act like its whatever😭its ok if not if this makes you uncomfortable!! Love your blog pookie and make sure YOU eat properly💥💥

ahh... just like me fr. this ask actually reminded me to eat, thank you!

summary: reader who forgets to eat type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, ruggie, azul, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle is also guilty of this

it's not that he's neglectful, it's just that...

...well... he's a little neglectful

it's usually Trey who has to remind him to take breaks from studying

none of that will stop him from scolding you, though

"What were you thinking, going a whole day without a meal? It's no wonder you're always so tired!"

expect lots of snacks from him after he's done berating you

he sends someone every day to make sure you've had something

(both a blessing and a curse)

you'll be in your room then suddenly Che'nya is there asking if you had lunch yet

and if not, you'll be recieving an invitation to Heartslabyul for tea

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona can't be bothered to ask why you're always so... out of it

he just assumes that's your personality

he even teases you for it, once or twice

then Jack offhandedly mentions that you rarely eat until dinner, and he gets all... worried

Ugh

suddenly, his room is always stocked with your favorite snacks from Sam's

what? no, they're not for you. he's just taken a liking to 'em. but you're welcome to have some if you'd like

his act is unconvincing

"What? Stop looking at me like that. I'm not some sap. I'm just making sure you don't go passing out on me,"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ruggie is worried that Crowley's cut your food rations

he'd been mooching off of you for a few months now, after all

plus, he knows what it's like to go hungry

of course, he doesn't outright ask. he doesn't want to embarrass you or anything

he just... casually offers to split meals and comes over once a week with half of his forage greens

"What, this? Nah, I just had extra. What, you're complaining about free food? Shishishi,"

you repay the gesture by making him a few meals, and it becomes a little tradition between the two of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

why, oh why, does Azul have to care about you so much?

he's become familiar that exact look on your face; distant, dizzy, disoriented...

and he's caught himself mid-scold far too many times

"Have you no sense of self-preservation? You can't keep relying on others to care for you; you'll only be taken advantage of,"

...and, of course, he's the poor soul who cares for you

he convinces himself that verbal reminders cost nothing

then he starts sending the tweels to make sure you've eaten

and then he insists you drop by the Mostro Lounge at least once a day

it's not that he's giving you his time and energy for free

he's just making an investment in you!

that's it. NOTHING ELSE! (<- lies)

(cue tweels giggling in the background)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Jamil

first Kalim, and now he has you to worry about, too?

of course; he has no obligation to help. that's what he tells himself

nothing will happen if he just ignores you

...except that sinking feeling in his stomach

Sevens, help him...

he starts letting you help around the kitchen

just... tidying up, doing the dishes, etc

and if you happen to want a bite of what he's cooking? ohoho, who is he to deny you the chance to test for poison?

(feigns to mention that these dishes have already been tasted)

"Good? Why, I'm flattered. You're welcome to help any time- how about tomorrow?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim will never pass a chance to host

you offhandedly mention that you forget to eat sometimes? just come over for breakfast!

and lunch

and dinner!

and you'll stay for dessert, too, won't you?

he's nothing if not gracious, and he has a penchant for taking care of others

he likes feeling useful, after all

just be ready to give him your full thoughts and feelings on every dish; he's already making a mental list of your favorites to serve every time you come over

"Hungry? No problem! We have all your faves waiting for you. What music do you want to listen to while we eat?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you know that Vil loves you, right?

so, so much?

good. because that love makes him want to shake you

of all the stupid things...

it's no use trying to hide it from him; you could look and act completely normal and he'd still see right through you

he can just tell

he has to restrain himself from threatening Crowley into letting you stay at Pomefiore so he can care for you

Vil believes you're capable, after all. you just need a little push

"I've set a daily reminder and stocked your kitchen. Remember that some food is better than none. If you need me for anything, I'll see to it as soon as possible,"

you can expect Epel and Rook to ask if you've eaten, on his behalf, every time you run into each other

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia sets like, 30 reminders in your phone

he knows as well as you do that three measly alarms won't be enough

...he, too, is guilty of forgetting to eat

he probably makes you a custom alarm sound and everything

a little pavlovian conditioning never hurt anyone, right? it's basically no different than training an AI

...or something like that

will send Ortho over to check your vitals every once in a while

"it's NBD. can't have u losing all your lives on me. who would tolerate me then?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

thank your lucky stars it's Malleus who notices your drowsiness first and not Lilia

Malleus, at least, will find you something edible to eat

he's trying to keep you alive, after all

he's very sweet and gentle about it

soft little reminders, nudges to keep you awake... he will up and leave a dorm meeting if he realizes he doesn't know if you'd had anything yet today

Malleus is very conscious about human mortality, and is very... delicate about it

he's just a little overprotective, that's all

it mostly comes to sharing little treats together every now and then. it feels less awkward when you're together, after all

"There is no need to thank me. I'm simply happy to spend my time with you,"

[thepitlanepress]

A BET NOT SO BAD [1] –

↳ lando norris + singer!piastri!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: my first smau (series)!!! also i'm using random songs/artists bc im not creative or strict enough to find or stick to one artist lol. there is also no face claim js a mix of pics i found :)) and ik lando's insta handle rn is js "lando" but im not putting that, bc no i dont want to

–

–

–

ynofficial

liked by oscar piastri, mclaren, lando norris, and 253,000 others

ynofficial congrats to my big bro!! i lost a bet so you suck ! i hate you so much kidding not really <33 great job to lando though cause he didn't make me lose a bet

view all comments

user1 she's so chaotic wtf i love it 😭😭

user2 i wanna know what bet she deemed good enough to take up (then lose) after swearing off betting last year 😭

user3 sameee last year's accident was .... yeah

user4 she's like an actual photographer that last pic is perfection

oscarpiastri i told you i would win the bet, the grid is going to love you

user5 WDYM OSCAR??? WHAT ABT THE GRID???

landonorris thanks 😉 liked by author

mclaren we can't wait to see you in the garage next race y/n

ynofficial im never losing a bet again 😭😭

user6 more info on this bet?!?!

user7 never LOSING a bet again??? what happened to never making one???

user8 usually i would be sad that we're not getting tour updates for a bit while shes on break but im loving this

–

ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris, gracieabrams, and 1, 572,000 others

ynofficial and since im wonderful while ur not getting tour updates, 2 hands welcome to the world! everyone go watch the mv now bc there are hints in there abt so close to what in case it wasn't already glaringly obvious from this post- [coming soon..... $p0rt$ (4r]

view all comments

oscarpiastri i am uncomfortable

ynofficial good.

user1 stop i just came from the mv and like?!?!? the imagery??? the dancing??? the f1 references????

user2 i stopped breathing when i saw the car

user3 no because the f1 references through out the mv have my jaw on the floor

mclaren nice car choice 😉 liked by author

madisonbeer i cant wait till the album is out omggg

user4 i am no longer functioning after that-

user5 SPORTS CAR COMING NEXT?!?!?! YES!!!!

landonorris we should hangout sometime...

oscarpiastri no.

landonorris you didnt let me finish - we should hang out sometime.... with oscar

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, ynofficial, and 6, 842, 956 others

landonorris recently.....

view all comments

user1 screaming crying throwing up what is happening these days

user2 im actually in shambles behind the scenes photos of something and yn posting and lando liking and lando posting and y/n liking and just everything i want it all give me it all

user3 real

oscarpiastri have a good day?

landonorris it was super fun 😏

oscaripiastri what did you do?

landonorris nothing!

oscarpiastri .... lando?

user4 i'm actually dying until this news comes out why is everyone being so secretive 😭😭

user5 well its safe to assume the bet and or y/n's news are f1 related

ynofficial r u majik how did u gess

user6 ... are you okay?

ynofficial oscar was missing out fr

landonorris that he was

user7 OH UM!?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!

user8 IM SORRY WHAT

–

f1unofficial

liked by 469,200 others

f1unofficial behind the scenes of something....

view all comments

user1 if you had told me last month that i would be eating up crumbs from a f1 gossip profile that has had that many problems its a known fact to avoid it i would not believe you oh my god

user2 no bc same i've hit rock bottom

user3 just tell us wtf is happening PLEASE

user4 im desperate i want to know anything pls

user5 u know ur desperate when you come here

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ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris, oliviarodrigo, taylorswift and 11, 648, 752 others

ynofficial since im incapable of keeping a secret... and i lost a bet, here we are. so close to what coming out 13th of november!! also we go back on tour soooon cant wait to see you england <33

view all comments

user1 y/n releasing an f1 themed album on lando's birthday was not on my bingo card for this year

oscarpiastri hahahahaha

ynofficial you suck ass

user2 an f1 themed album???? YES PLEASEEE

user3 LANDO'S CAR BEING THE ONLY ONE ON THE COVER??? SOMEONE EXPLAIN RN

ynofficial oscar was a lazy ass and had a date w his girlfriend so only lando could make

oscarpiastri i believe what you mean to say is: "oscar had a meeting that he couldn't get out of so only lando could make the shoot"

user4 mclaren are real ones for agreeing to be on the cover

user5 its her brothers team ofc they agreed and plus shes extremely famous any of the teams would've agreed

user6 im an officially a lanyn shipper

user7 i saw this coming and yet im still shocked

user8 EXCUSE ME??? DROPPING IT ON LANDOS BIRTHDAY?!?!?!?!

user9 oh my god lanyn is setting sail

user10 THE NAMES OF THE SONGS IM OBSESSEDDDDD

user11 i cannot wait until she comes to london for the tourr

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, ynofficial, charles_leclerc and 8, 276, 949 others

landonorris i would make an excellent model

tagged: ynofficial, oscarpiastri

view all comments

user1 you would in fact make an excellent model

user2 wtf is happening in the house of commons rn

ynofficial u guys made me sick all afternoon

oscarpiastri how???

ynofficial the heart eyes were disgusting

user5 oscar and lando giving each other heart eyes confirmed

user3 yn drops an album announcement and then lando drops this im not okay anymore

user4 lanyn shippers where are youuu

charles_leclerc you need to upgrade your company maybe next time come to the better team

ynofficial i'll be seeing you soon charlie darling dont you worry

user5 screaming what is happening?!??!

–

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ynofficial posted

landonorris posted

charles_leclerc posted

and 18 other notifications

–

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments and reblogs appreciated

[dilftoru]

Do u have any dad!gojo thoughts to spare? 🥺 craving dad!content atm...

a/n: tbh, this has been in my drafts a while and is only half finished cause i can’t write smut for shit 😭 i don’t think it’s that good but i hope you like it 🤍

papa gojo who feels like a sick perv whenever he helps adjust your clothes.

you had always been a little air-headed, and you never grew out of it. some people were just flat out dumb. and unfortunately, his daughter was one of them. there wasn’t a single thought in your pretty little head, and as much as your daddy found it your most endearing quality, it was also the most frustrating.

you had not a care in the world with the way you presented yourself. it was always tight tops or short skirts with you, and your dumb brain never picked up on the lustful stares you’d receive from men when the two of you walked down the street.

the nerve of those creeps to look at his baby girl like that when he was standing right beside her . . . he could tell you to stop dressing like that outside the house, to only allow it at home where he’d be the one admiring you. but he knew how much you loved expressing yourself through your style and how you insisted that you needed to look cute at all times.

thankfully, he rarely ever let you go out without him. he could only imagine what would happen if his princess were caught alone — he could just kill them all if they looked at you the wrong way . . .

what made it difficult, however, was that you had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, especially around your father. the pout you give him is dangerous, innocently asking for help to tug up your tube top cause daddy had strong hands and your boobs were just too heavy, making it ride down all the time. he’d do it swiftly with minimal effort and you’d squeal, realizing how efficient it is to just have him do it for you from now on.

or like the times the two of you are out in public and you’d bend over in the smallest skirt to pick up something you dropped. daddy was always standing right behind you though, his pelvis hovering just inches away from your crotch so no disgusting creep peeps at his daughter’s skimpy, pink panties — he wouldn’t take a peak either, of course — that he only allowed you to buy cause he was incapable of saying no.

and then it happens once in the small and cramped dressing room at the mall. you call out to him for help, having a hard time clipping on a new bra, bending over as per usual like the clutz you are when the hanger slips from your hands.

the changing space is small as is, an enclosed area with a long body length mirror on one wall and a small, black, cushioned seat to sit when trying on shoes.

he could only gasp as you keel over, hands flying to your waist when your cunt presses directly on his bulge. you wiggle to reach the item that accidentally landed under the short bench, the feeling sending a jolt of pleasure to his crotch and he heaves out a stuttered choking sound, looking down at your form with wide eyes behind his dark shades.

“sorry, daddy!”, you whine obliviously from down below. but his muddled brain could barely process it, eyes rolling back at the sensation of your chubby cunt wrapping perfectly around his cock through the layers of fabric, as if it was meant to be there.

his hips buck into yours on its own accord, and you let out a small, surprised shriek, almost tumbling forward in the restricted space if not for the tight grip on your waist. hands that were once occupied with searching for the hanger were now scrambling to clutch onto the low seat in front of you.

your head shoots up to look at your dad in the mirror. as if he was waiting, both of your eyes meet and you take notice of his flushed face.

“d-daddy wha—”

he interrupts you before you can finish, grinding his cock — testing out the overwhelming feeling — into the seat of your panties, hard. a squeak leaves your lips, a shaky hand reaching back and you aren’t sure for what exactly.

there’s a certain gleam in his eyes. daddy’s looked at you like that numerous times in the past, but it would be gone as soon as it came.

now you think you have an idea of what it could mean . . .

[nanamincreampie]

Omgomgomg hiiiii 🥹🥹🥹🩷🩷🌷🌷🌷🌷 can I request an instance where Sukuna’s pregnant wife visits him at his job and he’s the CEO.

Context:

So like no one in the office knows what his wife looks like. He’s insanely private about his life. (Also cause he’s involved in shady stuff and doesn’t want anyone to know the identity of his wife. He meets with a lot of crooked business men on and off the clock.)

But yea the office only know he’s married because of the ring he wears.

So when his gorgeous, thick and very pregnant wife goes to the reception saying “Hi, is Ryomen busy? I’m his wife. I brought muffins for everyone I ate a couple I hope that’s okay.” in the sweetest voice with the biggest smile, the entire floor is in shock. (They know she’s not lying because of the ginormous light pink rock of a wedding ring that’s on her finger. It’s identical to his hair obvi hehe)

But like yeah! She comes to the office for the first time and all the workers just fall in love with how sweet she is. So they scramble to help her and hold her bag and offer her food from the break room and tell her how pretty she is and maybe Sukuna’s personal assistant even gets pulled away and that’s when he notices that everybody’s nearly gone and he finally finds her surrounded by everyone in the break room and maybe he takes her to his office and his mind is reeling thinking something’s wrong with the baby but it just ended up her being like “I’m sorry I know I could have called but look! The baby’s kicking!” And he falls in love with her all over again.

I think it’d be so cute 😭🩷 he seems like the type of hubby to call his wife “flower” or “petal”. Smut is totally up to you I won’t be opposed to it. But eeee!!! I thought it’d be a cute fluffy little fic

One Sukuna fic with a side of Sunshine and a Pregnant Wife coming right up!!! <3

Sukuna x Black pregnant reader

The bustling office of Sukuna Enterprises was alive with its usual energy phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations about deadlines. Ryomen Sukuna, the enigmatic and ruthlessly efficient CEO, was in the middle of one of his intense back-to-back meetings. His presence cast a long shadow over the entire floor. Everyone knew to tread carefully; Sukuna tolerated no mistakes.

The only personal detail anyone knew about him was that he was married, courtesy of the massive, rose-pink diamond ring he wore on his left hand. But beyond that? Nothing. Sukuna was intensely private, and no one had dared to ask for more. Speculation abounded, but without any concrete details, his wife remained a mystery.

Until today.

The receptionist was the first to spot her: a stunning woman in a flowing maternity dress that hugged her very pregnant belly. Her curls framed her glowing face, and she carried a basket of muffins in one hand and a slightly overstuffed purse in the other.

“Hi there!” she greeted with a bright smile, her voice warm and melodic. “Is Mr. Sukuna in? I’d like to see him, please.”

The receptionist blinked, momentarily thrown off by the casual tone. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her professional instincts kicking in.

“Oh, no, no appointment,” the woman replied with a light laugh. “But I’m sure he won’t mind.”

The receptionist hesitated. No one—no one—saw Sukuna without an appointment. “And you are?”

“Oh, just a friend,” the woman said coyly, her warm smile never faltering. “I brought muffins for everyone, too! I… might have eaten a couple on the way. They smelled so good.”

Her charm was effortless, but the receptionist wasn’t entirely convinced. As she considered what to do, a curious junior associate walked past and froze at the sight of the woman. His gaze flicked between her and the receptionist.

“Who’s she?” he whispered, not quite quietly enough.

“I don’t know,” the receptionist whispered back.

Within minutes, whispers began to spread. A stunning, heavily pregnant woman had walked into Sukuna Enterprises asking for their untouchable boss. No one knew who she was, but the expensive jewelry on her hand, especially the light pink diamond, caught more than a few eyes. The resemblance to Sukuna’s wedding ring sparked theories.

Could it be… her?

The whispers grew louder as more employees found excuses to pass by the reception area, stealing glances at the mysterious woman.

Despite the growing attention, she remained perfectly at ease. When someone offered to carry her purse, she laughed softly and accepted, the basket of muffins still in her other hand.

“Oh, thank you so much! It’s a bit heavier than I thought,” she said, her tone dripping with gratitude.

Soon, the break room became her destination. Chairs were pulled out for her, snacks and drinks were offered, and she was surrounded by employees eager to accommodate her. Her gentle laughter filled the space as she chatted with everyone, thanking them for their kindness and answering their curious but polite questions in a way that revealed little.

Meanwhile, in his corner office, Sukuna noticed something strange. The usual buzz of activity on the floor had dwindled to near silence. His crimson eyes narrowed. Something was off.

Stepping out of his office, Sukuna’s gaze swept over the nearly deserted floor. His jaw tightened. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered under his breath, following the faint sound of laughter.

When he reached the break room, the scene before him made his steps falter.

Her.

His wife.

The woman no one in his office had ever seen, the woman he kept carefully hidden from the chaos of his professional life, sat there, glowing with happiness, her round belly resting comfortably as she laughed with his staff.

“What is going on here?” Sukuna’s deep, commanding voice sliced through the air.

The room went silent instantly. Employees scrambled to make space for him, their faces pale as they realized they’d been caught slacking.

Her head turned, and her smile brightened at the sight of him.

“Ryo!” she said warmly, completely unfazed by his intimidating presence. She gestured for him to come closer. “Come here!”

He crossed the room in two long strides, his crimson eyes scanning her from head to toe. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quieter but edged with concern. “Is something wrong?”

Her expression softened as she reached for his hand and placed it on her belly. “Nope! I just missed you. And look the baby’s kicking!”

For a moment, Sukuna’s icy demeanor cracked. His sharp features softened as he felt the gentle thump beneath his palm.

“You could’ve called, Petal,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something uncharacteristically tender.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but then his sharp gaze flicked to the stunned employees still lingering near the door. “Get back to work. Now.”

They scattered like leaves in the wind, murmuring apologies as they fled the room.

Turning back to his wife, Sukuna wrapped a protective arm around her and guided her toward his office. Once inside, he helped her settle onto the plush couch, his eyes never leaving her.

“You’re going to cause chaos every time you visit, Flower,” he said, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “But I brought muffins to make up for it.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he sat beside her. Despite the whirlwind she’d caused, Sukuna found himself staring at her, utterly captivated. She always had a way of turning his world upside down in the best possible way.

And the chaos? Oh, it didn’t end there.

For the rest of the week, the entire office buzzed with stories about her surprise visit. Who could’ve imagined that the stoic, intimidating Ryomen Sukuna was married to such a sweet, cheerful woman? The way she smiled, the way she treated everyone with kindness, the way she looked the staff couldn’t stop talking about her.

Rumors swirled, theories were formed, and every detail was analyzed. But one thing was certain: Mrs. Sukuna had left an impression that no one would forget anytime soon.

Divider by : @bernardsbendystraws

[bettymylove]

Hiii, just started following you, your work if amazing 👏 love it. I love smut but I love fluff as well. Was wondering if you could do a fluff for me.

Reader × Theodore nott

Reader is shy, sensitive and can't say no to anyone. Reader and Theo are already dating and he is super overprotective. One day when she's in class, a boy asks her to tutor him so she starts tutoring him, but during their lesson he starts touching her is inappropriately, she ends up leaving in tears(he didn't do much, he just touched her thighs then shouted at her when she complained). Theodore finds her crying and finds out why and beats the guy up till he has to visit a hospital. I know its long 😭 I just love jealous men

protect

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: read the ask, warnings: fighting, use of the word slut and whore, crying, inappropriate touching

a/n: I love jealous men too😭

Theo had not one idea as to why you were with him. You were a complete sunshine, never said no to anyone and were by far the kindest human theo had ever met.

Though people try to take advantage of your kindness, Theo's always there to protect you. He hates seeing his girl unable to say no even when she wants to and so, he helps her when he can.

However on that particular Saturday morning, your boyfriend hadn't accompanied you to breakfast, running late as usual and you had been approached by a boy in your class.

He had taken the opportunity of the empty seat beside you, which you saved for Theo, and decided to sit on it. Mattheo looked at him with an amused expression, eager to see Theo's reaction.

Theo came stumbling into the great hall, no robe, tie askew, and eyes searching for his beloved. His eyes land upon you, along with your uncomfortable expression.

He sits beside Mattheo, "You've not said anything to this boy?" Theo looks at you while you nod your head at said boy once more and he gets up while having a mischievous smile on his face.

"You really think, if I had said something he would still be there?" Theo chuckled at the statement, getting up to finally sit beside his girlfriend.

"Morning darling, what was that about?" he had a toast in his mouth, hanging off. He was trying to find the butter and you were sure you've never seen a much cuter sight.

Your hands instinctively find his tie, adjusting it as you speak. "He wants me to tutor him this afternoon." You pat his tie one last time before returning to your breakfast.

Theo rolls his eyes at your naiveness and how you don't see that boy was flirting with you, but decided to not say anything.

Later that afternoon, you wished you were still with Theo when you were sitting in the library with the boy whose name you had forgotten by now was sitting way too close.

You had decided if he moved any closer you would say something, anything. His hand moved around your shoulders, awkardly pulling you in, while his other hand met your thighs and you pulled away.

Your pulling away didn't help because the hand around your shoulder only pulled you closer. "Please move away from me." You had finally let out.

"Why, cause you're a little slut, whoring yourself out for your little boyfriend?" His words hit you, is this how people perceived you?

You had finally broken free of his hold, pushing yourself up along with your bag and running towards your dorms.

You shut the door, threw your bag on the floor, and got in your bed. You hugged your knees to your chest and started bawling your eyes out.

It was evening now and Theo hadn't seen you, deciding to check up on you, he went to your dorm. Knocking slightly, he entered and immediately thoughts of worry filled him.

You had cried, that much was clear from your face, but he wanted to know why. He sat beside you and you immediately hugged him, starting to cry again.

"What happened darling?" He asked in the most gentle voice he could muster up. He was ready to kill whoever had done this to his girl, but first he needed her to calm down.

"That boy, from this morning he-" you choked up, remembering his words and his touch and feeling disgusted by it.

"What did that fucker do, did he touch you?" Theo was seething, his jaw was tensed, few of his veins were visible.

You nodded and continued, "He touched me here," You brought his hands to your thighs. "He called me a slut, who was whoring herself out for you" Your voice was heavy and you looked ready to cry again.

Theo pulled up the sleeves of his shirt, wiping your tears with it, and pulled you up on your feet. Getting your shoes, from beside your bed, he knelt and helped you put them on.

"Where are we going, Theo?" you asked while he held your hand and pulled you towards with him to his dorm, you had never seen him this angry.

"To show that idiot, whose girl he was messing with" Slamming the door to his dorm open, he went into his bathroom while Mattheo, Enzo, and Draco looked around in confusion.

Theo came out with a baseball bat, handing one to Mattheo who only grinned and yelled, "Hell yeah" at the sight.

Theo held your hand again, pulling you along with him once more but this time three more boys were accompanying you.

The boy was sitting at the table in the great hall, surrounded by his friends, Theo left your hand and kissed your forehead before pulling the guy backwards using his shirt.

He was on the ground, while all four of them were surrounding him, the boy's friends had ran after seeing exactly who had pulled him down.

"Do you really think, you will mess with my girl and I'll stay silent?" He asked, laughing slightly, swinging the bat over his shoulder and the guy had just started to utter some words before Theo's bat hit his leg.

He groaned out in pain, and you winced at the sight. All three boys had now begun hitting the boy with all their might.

Finally after a while, professor Snape had arrived to break off the fight, giving them all a week's worth of detention while carrying the boy to the hospital wing.

Theo's hand came up to clean his face while he walked towards you, putting your face in his hands he whispered, "I'll always protect you, no matter what" and all you did was smile.

[awrkive]

Wer is grumpy jk! We badly need it 😫😭

summary: you and jungkook are getting closer, moving forward – but to where, exactly? what does that entail for your relationship? 

w/c: 3.3k

note: this is for all the girlies who asked for part 2 for this drabble. nothing but fluff in here ): ive been thinking abt college jk lately and i lowkey like this grumpy!jk guy… basically this takes place two months after the first drabble u may read this amm for grumpy!jk for a brief bg on what their relationship has become before u go read this parr. anyway the ending is a bit diabolical and im saying sorry in advance

also pls listen to come here by kath bloom, its literally so them 😮‍💨😖

It’s almost natural the way Jungkook immediately slings his backpack on one shoulder, heads straight out of the lecture hall, and starts the almost ten-minute walk from his department building to yours the moment his last class for the day was dismissed. 

He waits outside by the hallway along the lecture room, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, knowing that any minute now you’ll be coming out of the door. 

And just as a slew of students’ chattering becomes louder, their heavy footsteps coming out from the hall, Jungkook instantly spots you; talking to a friend animatedly – Joy, maybe? – before you look to the other side and finally see him. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim with excitement, smiling up at him and even doing a little wave. Jungkook watches as you turn to your friend. “Sorry, I gotta go. Zoom meeting at five, right?” He hears you say before she nods, bidding your goodbyes to each other before she goes in the opposite direction while you saunter towards him with that usual dashing grin on your face. 

Jungkook meets you halfway, lips curling up slightly at your enthusiastic greeting. Even more so when you don’t fight off the way he goes for your tote bag, taking it off your shoulder and wearing it on his own, the weight not adding that much to his own bag perched on his back. 

He remembers the first time he tried to do it (awkwardly, might he add), and you vehemently refused. But Jungkook can be persistent sometimes when he wants to, and eventually you gave up trying to resist.

Currently, as you walk along the hallway out of your building, standing close together, Jungkook tries not to think too much about how easy this feels. Like it’s normal the way you immediately interlock your arm around his own, skipping a little bit upon your walk as you begin speaking.

“You really did cut your hair.” You marvel at him when he looks down at you. And he can’t help it; the blood rushing to his cheeks and certainly on his ears. 

“I sent you a picture.” He simply says. It was yesterday. He originally went to his barber for just a trim but he remembers you saying something about a particular actor’s haircut… and look, it’s not like he was trying to look like that man but it may have influenced the decision a little bit… 

Anyway, he thinks it looks okay on him. He trusts his barber and Hoseok said it suits him. From your response, you also said it looks nice. 

And you tell him so. “I like it! You look so good. Especially with this frame!” You point to his eyeglasses, smiling up at him. “I was thinking you were just sending me a random picture last night.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “I wasn't, and uh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. Anyway,” you say, “Did you wait for long earlier? Sorry ‘bout that. Prof. Shin had to extend a little bit ‘cause there were a lot of questions about our new project.” 

“You have a new project?”

“Yeah, but nothing really heavy. Just a hotel lobby interior design. We got a week and it’s a paired task thing, that’s why you saw me with Joy earlier—”

He sees a flock of students ahead huddling by your side of the pathwalk, and because you have a tendency to not really pay that much attention to your surroundings, he takes you by the waist slightly to avoid bumping with them, causing you to stumble closer to him. 

You crane your neck to look behind you for a moment, gaze falling back up to Jungkook with widened eyes. “Sorry.” you say with a jutted lip and a little frown. 

“It’s okay.” Jungkook says with a reassuring smile. He means it. He likes being close like this and if you don’t watch your surroundings, he’ll just do it for you. He doesn’t mind. 

You grin. “Anyway… I was saying, it’s a hotel interior. But! The thing is, it’s a themed hotel, which I’m really excited about ‘cause I’m tired of designing contemporary, luxury ones. They always tend to be so redundant.” 

Jungkook nods. “I think so too. What’s the themed hotel about?” 

“Have you heard of a film called Metropolis?” He shakes his head. You nod at that. “Well, yeah, me neither. At least a week ago. Prof gave it to us as an assignment and it’s a silent film from the ‘20s. A sci-fi tale, so very futuristic – at least for that time. So that’s the theme of the hotel, right, and Joy and I immediately thought of art deco.” 

Jungkook intently listens as you go on about your initial ideas, and he doesn’t even have to worry about the terms he doesn’t understand because you always take time to explain it to him in layman’s. It’s funny, really, because ever since he’s learned that you study interior design and started to talk to him about it, he found himself taking interest in it as well. Two months ago, he couldn't have given a single care about a couple named Charles and Ray Eames and their weird chair called La Chaise, but here he is, anyway.

Maybe it’s because of the way you so passionately talk about it. Your zeal oozes out so much when it comes up as the topic of conversation, and there’s always been something about you that pulls people right in. And Jungkook’s at peace with himself now that he’s just one of those people. 

He’s willing to be pulled right in, anyway. You don’t exactly make it hard to. 

And Jungkook finds that the newfound dynamic between you two isn’t… so bad. He finds excitement at the prospect of seeing you after his classes are concluded, going to Fro-yo for a quick snack because you’re obsessed with it, and studying together at his place later in the day.

A lot of people would say he’s making up for all the times he’s ignored you. The times when he pretended to not care about you. The times when he was just unprovokedly mean and treated you the way he regrets now. And sure, it may have started that way. Ever since your Environmental Science project was finished and the term was over, Jungkook started to feel like he couldn’t go back to the life where you weren’t within his perimeter. Couldn’t imagine you both being back to – practically – regular strangers, so he just… opened up to you more.

He shares his own stories now. Tells you about his day after you do so, and invites you to Fro-yo and other cafes and restaurants around campus whenever your schedules align. 

And maybe at first it was, indeed, because he was trying to make up for his past behavior – but that may have only been what he convinced himself of for the first few weeks. When the week stretched into months and the months suddenly involved you doing sleepovers at his place whenever his roommate, Hoseok, is not around, Jungkook is starting to question himself if this is all still about simply making it up to you. 

Because frankly, he’s starting to feel like it's a little more than that.

He’s not just buying you frozen yogurt and helping you with any assignment (that requires his silly and minuscule math and science expertise) and letting you borrow and keep his hoodies and shirts whenever you sleep over because he’s trying to make up for the past – he’s doing all of these because he genuinely enjoys your company and would like to do more for you… with you… to you… and just… just more. 

He wants more with you. 

And every single day is a daunting battle for his internal mullings. 

Because he knows he’s been stupid all this time not to realize right away that he’s got romantic feelings for you. That his confusion when it comes to you didn't come from the reason that you were extremely extroverted and had way too much energy – it was that those things made him like you and his little heart and brain couldn’t comprehend any of it the way he can easily wrap his head around math equations and concepts.

But he keeps himself on the sidelines. Thinks about keeping himself there until he’s sure of what you truly think about. 

You’re always nice to him. But you’re kind of nice to everybody… so that gets him a little twisted.

On Monday, when you were supposed to hang out – when you usually sleep over at his place, you bailed on him to study with Jae, as per Taehyung's words, your mutual friend.

He just can’t tell if the way you treat him is different to the way you treat everyone else, and that’s what’s been on his mind lately. 

“Oh, Kookie,” you say as soon as Jungkook takes out his keys, going for his keyfob when you arrive at the parking area. He looks at you in question, completely ignoring the way his heart flutters a little at the nickname. He kind of hates it, thinks it's too childish when other people call him that – but with you it sounds so much like an endearment, so he doesn't protest. You press your lips into a thin line before you say, “I can’t go to Fro-yo today. Joy and I agreed to have a zoom meeting later to start conceptualizing.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Rain check?” 

You pout. “Yeah.” 

“You can do it at my place? Hoseok’s doing an all-nighter with his study group, so he won’t be there ‘til the morning.”

“But I didn’t bring my laptop today.”

With furrowed brows, Jungkook steps closer to you. “It’s alright. We can drive to your place, get your laptop then go to mine,” he smiles. “Sleepover?” 

Jungkook doesn’t want to toot his own horn but he may have seen your face light up at that. But it comes off easily and he begins to worry.

“I want to, but I don’t want to impose.” You say. 

Instantly, Jungkook’s forehead creases. “You won’t be imposing.” When he sees that you’re about to decline again, he lets out a, “Please?” 

At that, you stop. You stare at him for a moment. 

“Uh…” you trail off. “You sure? Are you not busy tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll probably start on an assignment so we can be both busy–” you nudge his arm at that, laughing. “– but other than that, no. I’ll cook us something. Or do you want to get take-out instead?” 

“I’d really, really appreciate your black bean noodles tonight.” You muse, looking at him like he holds the stars in the sky. With you gazing up at him like that, how can he say no?

“I think we have the ingredients in the fridge. Black bean noodles it is, then.” Jungkook says before you’re muffling your own squeal in your excitement, saying your little delighted “thank you” when Jungkook ushers you in the passenger seat after opening it for you. 

He rounds the car before he settles on his side, and when he starts the engine, he can’t help but smile slightly at the way you lean comfortably on your seat, as if you’re so used to being in his car – which you are.

And Jungkook finds he likes that. He likes you that way; being used to being around him. 

“You’re done?” Jungkook looks up from his computer, seeing you doing some arm stretches and leaning into his gaming chair to do it on your neck as well. 

“Yep.” 

“Then come here already.” He shuts his laptop close, places it on the bedside table, and pats the space on the mattress next to him. 

It’s nearly 10pm and your zoom meeting with Joy went for nearly 4 hours. You got on it immediately after you two ate your dinner, and like clockwork, asked to borrow one of Jungkook’s shirts because your top was getting a little too uncomfortable on your body. You’ve both already showered – separately, of course – and that’s one of the many things that Jungkook smiles about when he enters his bathroom sometimes. Because the fact that you shower in his bathroom means your essentials are slowly making a space for themselves in his own place; the yellow cup holder of your toothbrush sits next to his blue one, and a bottle of your moisturizer is also in his lavatory cabinet. 

“‘M so tired” You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing a little on it face down, sprawling across the bed like some starfish, your other hand landing on Jungkook’s abdomen. 

“Meeting went well?” Jungkook asks, and he’s a little disappointed when you remove an arm on him, but that’s okay, because soon you’re leaning sidewards to properly look at him and it makes him smile to see you so cozy like this. Barefaced and in his shirt. 

“Yeah, we got some work done,” You say. Jungkook watches as you try to get comfortable on your side of the bed. “I think I’m sleepy now.” 

“Yeah?” He follows after you, and he doesn’t hide his huge smile when you go and turn your back to him immediately after he slides his arm under your neck, spooning you from behind. Snuggling closer to him, Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist and lets out a contented sigh against the back of your head. “My first class is at one thirty pm tomorrow.” 

“I have one at eight am. Then the next one is at ten.” 

“Tough.” 

“I know… I wish I didn’t enlist in morning classes.” 

He chuckles, closing his eyes as he starts to feel that familiar lull of sleep dancing behind his eyes. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to give into that just yet.

“You were with Jae on Monday?” He asks, carefully treading through the subject. It’s Thursday now. It's not like Jungkook’s a jealous guy… it just kind of threw him off a little, because you didn’t tell him you were with Jae. 

“Uh… yeah?” Jungkook feels you freezing in his arms. “How’d you know?” 

“Taehyung told me.” 

“Oh.” He can practically hear the wince. “He has such a big mouth.” You say drily. 

That earns you a laugh from Jungkook. But he decides to take down the jokes for a more honest and open conversation with you tonight. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not accusatory. It’s soft and gentle, the way he asks it, with his thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your hip due to the hem of your – his – shirt riding up. 

Your answer takes awhile. 

“I was… getting help with estimates.” 

“... Okay,” Jungkook tightens his hold around you, growing confused. “But I’m really good with estimates. I could’ve helped you.” It was easy math for him. And you never shied away from asking him for help before… why now?

“Well, he offered.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease deeper. “That’s not…" he trails off, then continues, "You know you can ask me for anything, right? Jae’s not even on the dean's list. How’d you know he’s teaching you the right stuff?”  

Silence hangs in the air before Jungkook hears your laughter. Shuffling in his arms, Jungkook loosens his hold around you to let you turn to him. When he sees your face, there's a huge grin on it.

“He’s not even on the dean’s list?” You sound intrigued.

Jungkook assumed you were curiously speaking, and so he nods, looking into your eyes seriously. “He isn’t. Look, I’m not saying–” when he notices your smile only getting wider by the second, he realizes you’re just trying to fuck with him, so Jungkook cuts himself off, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole.”

You scoot closer until both the front of your bodies are stuck. Jungkook tries not to think too much whether you’re wearing a bra underneath his shirt or not. 

You shake your head. “Not really. I believe you’re way smarter than him.” 

“Then why come to him and not me?” 

You stare at him for a moment, then you let out a heavy breath. “I just feel like you’re doing so many things for me nowadays. You were also really busy on Monday– don’t deny it–” you say before he opens his mouth to oppose that. He shuts his lips close, listening to you go on instead. “– and I was just being considerate. Jae offered because we saw and sat next to each other at the library, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Jungkook blinks, processing your words. After a pregnant pause, he slowly nods, still dumbstruck. 

“Ah… okay. I understand.” he says, embarrassment slowly filling his system. 

You smile at him. Playfully. “Sorry for asking help from someone who’s not on the dean’s list.” Jungkook drops his expression into a poker face at that, which makes you laugh even more. You nibble on your bottom lip before you stretch your hand to his cheek and pinch it. He doesn’t bother dodging your hand. With a giggle, you say, “Sorry, sorry. That was just so funny. You’re so funny without even trying sometimes, you know?” 

“Not really.” Jungkook says and you can tell the tell-tale signs of his grumpiness starting to kick in.

What he doesn’t expect is the way you suddenly squeal and launch yourself on top of him, causing him to lie fully on his back with you sprawled all over his body, hugging him tight and burying your face in his chest. 

“You’re so cuddly and warm. Can we stay like this for awhile?” You break away from his chest and look at him from a low angle. 

Jungkook meets your gaze. 

Sure, you’ve been cuddling (platonically) all these past few months – but they never went to this length. And he’s not sure what the difference is, anyway – just that you’re much closer like this and Jungkook can feel everything. Still, that doesn’t deter him from wrapping his arms around your waist, slightly locking you in the position. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even want you to move. 

“Alright.” Is his simple answer. Not like he needed to think about it.

“I’ll sleep now, okay?” But you don’t wait for his response before you lay on his chest again with your cheek pressed on his hoodie.

Because the moment just feels right somehow, Jungkook lets his hand wander on your head. Then slowly, he lets his fingers comb through the strands of your hair, tentatively at first, lest you didn’t want him touching you or something like that – but once he hears a sound akin to a purr coming from you, he continues and finds himself getting comforted by the action as well. 

“The Jae thing really bothered you?” You ask suddenly, not breaking away from the position you’ve assumed on top of his body. But your words are slightly slurred in the haze of sleep.

Jungkook hums. “Yes.” 

“Sorry for not telling you myself.” 

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures you. His gaze falls to the ceiling, hand still caressing your hair. The surface is empty, and there’s not really much going on. Meanwhile, in your own bedroom, you have those glow in the dark star stickers pasted on your white ceiling. He’s never slept over there, but he thinks it would be nice to lay under your makeshift galaxy with your homely scent surrounding the two of you. “Are you not gonna ask why I was bothered?” He says after a beat. 

“I was gonna. But I think I know.” You answer, and Jungkook doesn’t expect that one bit.

He stops his ministrations on your hair, and it’s obvious that you’re about to question it when you suddenly peel your face away from his chest again. 

When you do, Jungkook meets your gaze and with a leveled tone, he asks the question he’s been mulling about for the past two months.

“__, what are we?” 

[jolyfics]

This is my first time requesting something uggghh I'm nervous.

Anyways, I think it would be so cute if your wrote how the jojos would confess to their crushes!

i love the way you write so ik you'll do them justice

𝙞 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪

𝘫𝘰𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

summary: how the jojos confess

notes: THIS TOOK SO LONG MY HAND FELL ASLEEP 😭😭 but really i hope you enjoy it!! i swear i wasn’t being that lazy over easter break

jonathan joestar

i feel like jonathan is the most romantic out of all the jojos

he’d definitely bring you some place nice

like a tree on a hill during sunset

he’d also make it a picnic

after you two talk for a good bit is when he’d speak up

if you agree to his confession he’d let out a sigh of relief, as well as a big grin

6pm, he told you to meet you by the tree where you usually hang out, you adored that tree, it was rural. once you arrived you noticed he was there before you, sitting underneath the tree with a cute little picnic basket beside him. you sat down to his left, he took out some sandwiches you assumed he made and the two of you began eating, quickly falling into your usual banter.

after awhile, he cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him with confusion. “i.. have something i wish to tell you.” he spoke up, he sounded nervous, you had never heard him sound like that before. you perked up, signalling for him to continue. “i have feelings for you, (name). and i hope you’d accept them” you could feel your cheeks heat up, which caused his to do the same.

you nodded, “i do, jojo!” he grinned, a sigh escaping him as relief washed over his entire body. he placed his hand atop of yours, as you both gave eachother an adoring look

joseph joestar

joseph’s a smartass

it definitely starts with him teasing you

then when you ask him why he likes teasing you specifically is when he shuts up

he admits it quite casually

like its nothing

leaving you quite flustered

“c’mon, cutie! give me a smile!” he smirked, he adored the way your eyebrows looked as they furrowed when he spoke. he loved the way your face turned the slightest shade of red and how you tried to hide how he actually got a reaction out of you. he loved it all. “shut up, jojo!” you scoffed, trying to hide the blush that crept up onto your face

“why do you always tease me? why not suzie q?!” you spoke up, you weren’t angry, just genuinely confused. did he like seeing you so angry? he then playfully rolled his eyes. “because i love seeing that look on your face! i mean, who wouldn’t? you’re gorgeous yknow?” you scoffed once more before crossing your arms

“it’s because i love you, (name)! and i know you can’t resist me” he grinned, his usual stupid grin. you looked back over at him. it seemed he was waiting for you to say something to him, instead you placed a small kiss on his cheek. that seemed to finally shut him up

jotaro kujo

it honestly depends on which jotaro

part 3 jotaro isn’t the kinda guy to confess his feelings to you

he’d just hope and pray you had that confidence to speak up first

if you don’t though, and the feeling is getting too much for him to handle he’d trap you in a hotel room and force you to listen to him

very rare to hear more than a few words with him, let alone hear what he FEELS

you sat on the hotel bed, reading a cheap magazine you found in one of the drawers in the bedside table. you were sharing a room with jotaro, you only really shared with him or kakyoin, since you three were the only teenagers with the group. jotaro had just gotten back from being in the bathroom, he sat on the bed to your right.

“(name).” he spoke, his voice soft, yet still with the usual firmness that usually has a grasp over him. you looked over to him, closing the magazine over and placing it beside you on the bed. “yes, jotaro?” he paused, the air seemed different. not the usual feeling you had while rooming with him.

“you’re.. not awful.” his voice was now that of a mumble, as he used the brim of his hat to cover his face. at first you were confused, until it hit you, he was trying to tell you how he felt about you. he just couldn’t get the right words out of his mouth

josuke higashikata (4)

josukes confession is probably the most fun out of them all.

i feel like he’d take you somewhere fun like bowling

you’d be kicking his ass at it

and once you finished up your game and we’re walking home

thats when he’d tell you

and if its cold he might even lend you his coat

you shivered as the two of you walked home after a long day of bowling. you two played about 4 rounds, you won 3/4 of those games, which you were quite proud of. you felt something heavy land across your shoulders, you looked down. josukes coat? you then turned your gaze to him, he seemed to be looking in the opposite direction of you

“thanks, josuke” you spoke up, getting rid of the silence between you too. he hummed, kicking a rock as he walked. “hey, uhh” he paused before speaking up once more. “i gotta tell you something, and don’t get angry at me for saying this!” you chuckled at that, you couldn’t get angry at him

“i.. think i might like you. thats a lie. i know i like you” you pulled his coat closer around you as you grinned, this day seemed to be getting better and better..

giorno giovanna

giorno definitely took you to a fancy restaurant

he is the don, he has that kind of money

he’d probably buy you something fancy too.

he’d just say it outright, like it was something he said everyday

you two sat across from eachother at the fancy restaurant, both of you in your fanciest attire. you two stared at a menu, deciding what to get before the waiter arrived, notebook and pen in hand. once you ordered, and the waiter was gone, giorno looked over at you. he pulled out a tiny box placing it on the table and sliding it over to you

“giorno, no” “i insist, (name)” he interrupted. you sighed, picking up the box and opening it. a necklace lay inside, laced with what you could only assume were real diamonds. you looked up to him in shock. “giorno, i can’t take this..” he shook his head

“you must, you’re the only person i’d want to spend this kind of money on, so please. let me buy you things from now on” he gave a small, meaningful smile towards you, which only made you smile. you took the necklace out of the box, placing it around your neck. “you look stunning, mí amore”

jolyne cujoh

okay. we all know how lesbians are

she’d definitely confess buy playing a song for you, then saying that it reminds her of you

you two would just be in her bedroom

and she’d suggest listening to music

then she’d play the song and say it reminds her of you two

you two sat on jolynes bed, you’d been friends for years, so long in fact, you two had began to develop feelings for eachother. even though everyone around the two of you knew, you two didn’t. “hey.. let’s listen to some music!” jolyne suggested, you nodded. that could be fun, you always enjoyed her music

she grinned, standing up from the bed and heading towards her cd collection. she picked one up, then placed it into the cd player. it took a few seconds for the song to boot up but once it began she then hurried back over to sit beside you in her bed. “what song is it?” you asked, she only grinned at you. “you’ll see”

as the song began to play, it seemed like something jolyne never would’ve usually listened to. you began to recognise the song as time went on, ‘this kiss, by faith hill’ as you began to wonder why she picked this song, she spoke up. “this song, reminds me of us..” her face was slightly red as she spoke

Johnny Joestar

johnny and you were put on a ranch

yous were just together tending to your horses

it was silent, peaceful

that’s when johnny would admit to having feelings for you

it definitely took him awhile to do that

he’s not the most open when it comes to how he feels

you fed your horse, johnny stood beside you, doing the exact same to slow dancer, his horse. it was comfortable, you two enjoyed eachothers company and the silence between you wasn’t awkward in the slightest, at least for you anyways.

johnny was busy thinking about you, he wanted to tell you how he felt, he knew he owed it to you to be honest, but it was just scary. he was afraid of rejection from you. even though he knew deep, deep down that you most likely liked him too

“hey.. (name)?” he finally spoke up, he felt as if his heart was in his throat. you turned to look at him, giving him a hum to continue. “i just wanted to say that i.. like ya, i have for awhile now. i just.. wanted ya to know” he looked away, embarrassed

josuke higashikata (8)

josuke just blurts it out

like its NOTHING

he doesn’t get social cues tbh

it leaves you shocked

like really shocked

you two were probably just sitting in a part when he just says it

you sat on the park bench with josuke, you both had gotten an ice cream, it was a very warm day in morioh, so ice cream was the only solution the two of you had. as you both sat, enjoying your ice cream, you looked over to josuke, who seemed to be enjoying his delicious sweet treat

“isn’t this nice, josuke?” you spoke up, he only nodded enthusiastically, continuing to lick the cone. you chuckled at him, giving him a smile. which seemed to make him stop eating? he stared at you, in an almost creepy way. you’d be creeped out if you didn’t know him

“i’m in love with you” he says, before going back to his ice cream. you stared at him, in shock. “what?” you gave him a confused look, where you dreaming? hallucinating even? did he really just say that to you?

[sanguineterrain]

Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you. 

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.  

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning. 

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch. 

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted. 

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better. 

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!” 

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous. 

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass. 

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.” 

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.” 

“That's generous of you, Carrie.” 

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated. 

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce. 

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete. 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

[https-milo]

Hihi !! First time requesting, this is so awkward ..😭 but by any chance, could you do a Monoma Instagram (if you write for him, of course) thank you !! 🤍

hihi tysm for the request! i think I forgot to put Monoma on my list of characters 😭😭, but yes I can!!

DATING NEITO MONOMA INSTAGRAM!

details!

Instagram posts w/ comments while dating Neito Monoma!

a/n OBVIOUSLY these are just pictures off of interest, reader can be however you imagine!

(a little different from my usual insta posts)

main m. list / instagram m. list

y/ncantthink · 5w

1.9k likes liked by kendos.fist, tetsu.x4, deku_, ocha.uravity

y/ncantthink soft... soft launch?

ocha.uravity ???? CALL ME??? y/ncantthink ocha.uravity i cant say who it issss :(( ocha.uravity y/ncantthink why nottt :((( y/ncantthink ocha.uravity cause hes a hypocrite 👎👎

kendos.fist Oh! I know whooooooo ;) y/ncantthink kendos.fist SHUT UP PLEASE

monoma.copies whoever it is must be stupid, who would date someone from class A?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

monoma.copies · 4w

800 likes liked by kendo.fists, tetsu.x4, ocha.uravity

monoma.copies Me. I would.

tagged: y/ncantthink

y/ncantthink you would what, sweetie 😊😊😊 monoma.copies y/ncantthink date someone from 🤢🤢class A🤢🤢 y/ncantthink monoma.copies hmmm I think your phone glitched and added some weird emojis :// monoma.copies y/ncantthink strange!! 😊😊

kendos.fist All Might gives his strongest soldiers (Y/n) his toughest battles (dating Monoma) y/ncantthink kendos.fist thank you Itsuka 🫶🫶 but Neito really isn't that bad!!

ocha.uravity hes got her defending him on the main 😭😭 y/ncantthink ocha.uravity im serious!! hes really not bad at all!

tetsu.x4 shes out on the frontlines after this post

y/ncantthink · 3w

1.9k likes liked by kendos.fist, ocha.uravity, deku_, tetsu.x4

y/ncantthink my pretty princess <3

tagged: monoma.copies

kendos.fist cant believe he let you take that 😭😭 y/ncantthink kendos.fist bc he's not a bad guy :(

monoma.copies we're such a cute couple (I'm the cuter one tho) y/ncantthink monoma.copies whatever you say, princess 🙄 chargebolt.dk monoma.copies ik ur playing...

tetsu.x4 you guys are so cute, i want to punch a wall RED.RIOT tetsu.x4 IKR!! Even if Monoma hates our class, its so cute that they're together!! hanta.fanta RED.RIOT you're joking...

deku_ i don't see anything wrong with the two being together..? am I missing something? chargebolt.dk deku_ he's always been a dick to our class. and now he's dating one of us? It doesn't make sense. deku_ chargebolt.dk kacchan is always a dick too, but we're all friends with him. I mean like whatever, but I think we should just let them live their lives.

monoma.copies · 2w

650 likes liked by tetsu.x4, deku_, kendos.fist

monoma.copies wish you guys would just hop off and let us be happy

tagged: y/ncantthink

y/ncantthink im sorry, I know most of them are my friends. I've been defending you and everything, idk what else to do monoma.copies y/ncantthink I don't blame you. you can't control them. thanks for defending me (even though your class sucks) y/ncantthink monoma.copies ofc <3 anytime

chargebolt.dk maybe we would if you weren't such a dick :D y/ncantthink chargebolt.dk Kaminari istg if you don't stfu hanta.fanta y/ncantthink don't tell me his personality is rubbing off on you... y/ncantthink hanta.fanta I literally don't want to hear from either of you. idk why you're being such dicks but I hope you choke on each other.

tetsu.x4 idk why everyone is hating, you two are so cute kendos.fist tetsu.x4 no fr, monoma has literally changed and became more bearable cause of y/n :///

RED.RIOT sorry for my classmates dude! You two just keep being you!!

deku_ idk what has gotten into some of us, but the majority of class A has nothing against you two

y/ncantthink · 1d ⭐ close friends

12 likes liked by ocha.uravity, deku_, chargebolt.dk

y/ncantthink i hope you guys are soooo happy!! he broke up with me because the CONSTANT comments ab how we "weren't good for each other" and "I could do so much better" got to him! I do not want to talk to either of you (you know who you are). I'm switching to shiketsu

kendos.fist im so sorry y/n. neito hasnt been much better. I can tell he misses you y/ncantthink kendos.fist I just wish things would've worked out :/

chargebolt.dk are you serious? dont switch schools dude. y/ncantthink chargebolt.dk nah fuck you and sero. i wont be seeing you ever *you have blocked this user*

ocha.uravity im so sorry babes. im going to miss you so much. please keep contact? y/ncantthink ocha.uravity ofc. ill miss you too

RED.RIOT im so sorry. i tried talking to them.

deku_ we're gonna miss you so much. im here if you need it and I wish you the best

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

Thank you so much for reading <3

[desideriumwriter]

i'm thinking about an angry love confession in the quidditch pitch with either of the twins. while it's raining. PLEASE

(also i'm loving anyone but you, i can't wait for the next chapter 😭)

you are a saint for this request, i love you. i live for the dramatics. take this as an apology for the other love confession blurb <3 oh and more aby is on its on its way i pinkyyyy promise!

wc: 761

f.w. masterlist | navi

You were pissed. You’d come out all the way to the Quidditch Pitch by yourself to watch Fred practice, just because he asked you to. Only to end up disappointed and rained on.

Oliver was nice enough today to end practice shorter than usual due to the sudden heavy rain.

Already soaked enough from the run you had to make from the spot you were sitting on the bleachers to underneath them, you crossed your arms as you waited for Fred to get done talking with Angelina.

Soon they parted ways, Angelina stroking his arm as he walked away. The scowl on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Fred once he turned to you.

“You okay?” He walked up to you, broom still in hand and a smile still on his face from whatever humorous conversation he was having.

“Why do you even bother asking me here if you’re just gonna gawk at Angelina the entire time?” You muttered, looking at the wet grass.

“I don’t gawk at her.” Fred scoffed in disbelief. “What’s going on?” He lowered his chin, trying to get a look at your face.

“Whatever, I’m going back to the castle.” You shrugged, arguing with him was like talking to a wall.

“I- What’s the matter with you?” He grimaced, dropping his broom and following you as you went out into the rain. You didn’t respond, only muttering something about wanting to get back to your room.

“Hey, come on, stop. You’re acting all strange.“ Fred grabbed your shoulder, you shrugged him off.

“I’m not gonna let you walk all the way back alone in the rain, you know? You’re worrying me.” He grabbed your shoulder again, this time you whipped around angrily.

“Why do you care? Why don’t you go and continue on flirting with Angelina?” Your words were spilling out your mouth with no control, pure jealousy was spewing out of you.

“Where’s all this come from? What’s your problem?” Fred stuttered a bit, clearly taken aback by your sudden outburst.

“This! This is my problem!” You went on, tearing your hood off your head. Your robes were completely soaked now and doing no help to shield you from the rain.

“I show up to your practices and games every single time you ask, I watch and I wait for you, just for you to go straight over to her!” You exclaimed.

“I’ve been trying to get you to figure it out but you're always busy with your pranks and practice and- and her!” Your voice wavered, yet you were too angry to feel embarrassed yet.

“I thought maybe you’d notice, maybe you’d see, but I can’t keep waiting and hoping while you’re off with someone else! And if I could just tell you then maybe you’d realize!” You blurted out. You were praying the raindrops hitting would disguise the tears that had begun to fall from your eyes.

“Then tell me! What is it?” Fred huffed, frustration in his tone.

You opened your mouth but only a shaky breath came out. You were hesitant and holding back, knowing that if you told him everything between you would go one of two ways.

“Come on, tell me what this big issue is! What?” He pushed one more time, causing you to break.

“I’m in love with you, you git! That’s what!” You yelled, voice slightly cracking. Fred’s face dropped.

The truth was laid bare and the both of you were silent, the pouring rain around you working as ambient noise.

"Say something," you hoarsely whispered. "Please say something." You tried to steady your heaving breath and racing heart, but Fred’s face didn’t help at all.

You felt like an idiot. You closed your eyes, wishing you could go back and have this never happen.

You were ripped out of your self-dwelling once two hands cupped your face and pulled you in. His lips are on yours, the coldness of the rain is replaced by the warmth of his skin, and you absolutely melt into it.

Once you finally broke apart, Freds hands still remained holding your face, making him look at you, his expression had shifted to a softer look.

“I don’t want Angelina, I want you.” His voice was gentle, “She doesn't compare to you. No one does.” He kissed you again, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t understand, if you felt the same, why didn’t you say anything?” You stammered, this was honestly the last thing you expected.

“I didn’t really think you'd be interested in a git like me.” He smiled and shrugged.

tell me what you thought!

[moonlitstoriess]

Heyyy so I saw you wanting to write more for Kallias, and idk I just saw this soul shattering tiktok and the winter faerie actually reminded me of Kallias (yk because.. winter.. yh) … this is not a direct ask but maybe it can inspire you for further Kallias fics https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNeoxbvYr/ much much love, I really enjoyed your latest work with Kallias, you portrayed him so beautifully 🫶🏼

When the Ice Cracks- Kallias x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: Y/N, a bubbly healer, is summoned to treat the cold, brooding High Lord of Winter. Determined to befriend him, she pushes past his icy walls—until he finally breaks her spirit with cruel words. When she withdraws, Kallias tells himself it’s for the best… until he realizes he misses her warmth. Now, he must mend what he shattered before it’s too late.

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries, fluff in the end, also I apologize in advance if you do not like my writing in this one cuz I am currently dealing with a painful eye infection which caused me to delay everything and idk if this will live up to the expectations you guys😔

See masterlist

A/N: Hi! The video was really something, the pain I felt as I watched it…😭 but it did give me an idea, although a different one but with enough angst loll. Also, thank you for the love, it makes me truly happy knowing my work is being appreciated<3

The apothecary chamber was warm, despite the eternal cold of the Winter Court just beyond its frost-laced windows. The scent of crushed herbs and simmering tonics swirled in the air, wrapping Y/N in a comforting embrace as she worked, carefully grinding a handful of dried roots into a fine powder. The mortar and pestle moved rhythmically in her hands, the familiar motion grounding her as she hummed softly to herself.

Healing had always been her purpose. From the moment she discovered her gift—the ability to soothe pain with a touch, to knit together flesh and bone with her power—it had felt like breathing. But talent alone was never enough. She had clawed her way through the ranks, training tirelessly under the best healers of the Winter Court, proving herself again and again until there had been no choice but to acknowledge her skill. Now, she was the youngest to ever hold the title of Master Healer, a position of high honor within the court.

The title had come with its share of challenges. The Winter Court was not an easy place for someone like her—a female who spoke too freely, smiled too easily, and refused to be swallowed by the cold, unspoken rules of the icy kingdom. She knew she was different from the others who served in Kallias’s court. Most healers were quiet, composed, reserved. Y/N? She talked too much. She got too close. She teased the soldiers she patched up, fussed over the sentries when they neglected their wounds, and made even the gruffest warriors crack a reluctant smile.

Warmth had always been her way. And warmth was not often welcomed in a place ruled by ice.

But she had earned her place. Through skill, through sheer willpower, through proving time and time again that she belonged.

She exhaled slowly, tipping the powdered root into a steaming vial, watching as the tonic darkened into a rich amber hue. This one would be useful—an enhanced healing elixir, meant to speed up the mending of deep wounds. She had been experimenting with stronger potions lately, determined to push the limits of her craft.

She reached for another vial, about to measure out the next ingredient, when—

“Y/N!”

The sharp call shattered the quiet, making her jolt so hard she nearly sent the entire potion spilling across the table. She twisted around, heart hammering, to find Healer Maerith standing in the doorway, her usually composed face drawn tight with urgency.

Y/N frowned, wiping her hands on her apron. “Maerith? What—”

“You are needed,” the older healer interrupted, breathless, her thick furs rustling as she strode into the room. “Immediately.”

Y/N straightened, brows knitting. “Needed for what?”

Maerith’s icy blue eyes met hers, and when she spoke, Y/N’s stomach dropped.

“The High Lord has been injured.”

For a moment, she could only stare. The words didn’t make sense. Kallias? Injured? The High Lord of Winter was a warrior, one of the most powerful High Lords in all of Prythian. She had never—never—been summoned to treat him before.

“I—” she started, struggling to process it. “What happened? Is he—”

“There’s no time for questions,” Maerith snapped, already moving toward the door. “Gather your supplies and get to his chambers. Now.”

Y/N barely hesitated. Years of training, of discipline, took over. She grabbed her satchel, shoving in every tonic, poultice, and salve she could think of—something for pain, something for wounds, something for internal injuries in case it was worse than they were letting on.

Her mind raced as she slung the heavy leather strap over her shoulder and sprinted out of the room, Maerith’s words echoing in her head.

The High Lord has been injured.

Her boots pounded against the marble floors as she tore through the palace corridors, weaving past startled servants and guards. The familiar halls felt different now, heavier, filled with an almost suffocating tension.

How had it happened? A training accident? An attack? Was it serious?

The thought made her pulse stutter. She had treated hundreds of warriors, seen males with grievous wounds, but this—this was different. This was the ruler of their court, their kingdom. And she had no idea what to expect when she reached his chambers.

One thing was certain, though.

She was about to come face-to-face with the High Lord of Winter himself.

Pain throbbed in his side, deep and unrelenting.

Kallias sat stiffly in the high-backed chair near the roaring fireplace of his chambers, his jaw tight as he pressed a cloth against the wound that refused to heal. Blood had long since soaked through the fabric, staining his fingers a deep crimson, but still, the gash remained. Even with his Fae healing, even with his magic, the injury lingered—mocking him.

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back against the chair, ice creeping along the edges of the wound in a feeble attempt to numb the pain. How had it come to this?

A routine patrol beyond the palace walls, that was all it had been. He had been investigating strange reports near the northern borders when a group of rogue Fae attacked. Rogues. In his court. It infuriated him. They had been strong—trained, even—but not stronger than him. Kallias had made quick work of them, his ice shattering bones, freezing bodies where they stood.

But one had gotten close. One had touched him.

A poisoned blade, slashing across his ribs before he cut the male down where he stood. He hadn’t felt it at first, the cold consuming his rage, his focus on eliminating every last one of them. But then, as the bodies lay frozen at his feet, the pain had set in. The wound had burned, spread, and despite every attempt to use his magic to seal it, it would not close.

He clenched his teeth, fingers curling into a fist as frustration curled in his gut. He loathed being touched, and now his own mistake—the one moment he had let his guard slip—had left him with no choice but to endure it.

A healer had to see to him.

Kallias could hardly stomach the idea. He was High Lord of the Winter Court, the most powerful male in this palace, and now he sat injured like some weakling in his own chambers. It should have healed by now. But it hadn’t. Which meant he had to tolerate someone else's hands on him.

He exhaled sharply, preparing himself. At the very least, he knew the healer would be professional—quiet, efficient, distant, like all the others who served under him.

Then, the doors burst open.

"Master Healer Y/N, my lord," a voice announced before the heavy doors shut once more.

Kallias barely had a second to process the name before she stepped in.

His first thought was that she did not look like a healer. Or at least, not like any healer he had encountered before.

The female before him—Y/N—was not reserved. She did not carry the cold demeanor of his court. No, she radiated warmth.

Bright eyes, a quick, eager smile. Her hair was slightly tousled, a satchel slung over her shoulder, filled with an assortment of tonics, bandages, and salves. She was smaller than he expected but walked with a confidence that somehow filled the room.

And then she bowed—deeply, properly—before flashing him that same, blinding smile.

"My lord! An honor, truly. You’re my first High Lord patient, you know? What a milestone! And what a lovely room—I should’ve guessed it would be grand, of course, you’re the High Lord, but still! Very cozy for such a serious place."

Kallias just stared.

She moved toward him with an energy that was… unnatural for the Winter Court. His people did not behave this way. Healers did not behave this way.

Was she… babbling?

She reached his side, dropping to a crouch beside his chair. “Now, let’s see—oh! Wait. Sorry, my lord, I got ahead of myself. Where was the injury again?”

Kallias blinked at her.

What. The. Hell.

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, only studying her as his brain tried to process what had just happened. No one had ever spoken to him like that. Not a courtier, not a soldier, and certainly not a healer.

She didn’t cower, didn’t hesitate, didn’t treat him like some untouchable force of nature.

And gods help him, a part of him almost found it… endearing.

He shoved the thought away immediately.

Wordlessly, he lifted his hand from the wound, exposing the long, deep gash along his ribs.

Her eyes widened.

A gasp left her lips, so dramatic it made something in him twitch. "By the Cauldron! This is terrible. Absolutely terrible. No wonder your magic isn’t closing it—look at that! That’s not just a wound, my lord, that’s a full-on crisis!"

His nostrils flared as he tried not to react.

She was already rummaging through her bag, muttering under her breath. "My great-great-grandfather had a wound like this once, you know? Not poisoned, but deep enough that it wouldn’t close—granted, he was a fisherman, not a High Lord, but still. Oh! And this reminds me of that soldier from the southern border last spring, nasty gash, nearly lost his whole side—poor guy, cried like a baby, but don’t worry, my lord, I’m sure you’ll handle this much better than he did."

What. The. Hell. Was. Happening.

She was still talking as she placed a warm, gentle hand over the wound. He barely had a second to brace himself before power pulsed from her palm.

White-hot pain lanced through him, burning from the inside out. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth, his body instinctively jerking at the sensation.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry! I know it hurts," she said quickly, not stopping. "It’s the first part of the healing process, the pain means it’s working—”

“Just do your damn job,” he snapped.

Her hands stilled for a second.

Then—to his utter disbelief—she laughed.

A bright, unapologetic laugh.

“Alright, alright, High Lord of Impatience, I’ll be quick,” she teased, carefully pressing her hand back to the wound. “No need to get all grumpy.”

Kallias barely managed to bite back his shock.

No one. No one spoke to him that way.

Yet this strange, bubbly, utterly unafraid healer did so without hesitation.

He didn’t know whether to be infuriated or intrigued.

She worked efficiently, despite her chatter, cleaning the wound, applying some sort of cooling salve before carefully wrapping the bandages around his torso. Her touch was gentle, careful—not the cold, clinical detachment he was used to.

When she finished, she straightened, brushing her hands off and nodding in satisfaction. "Alright, my lord! You’re all patched up. Now, since this wound is serious, I’ll be checking on you daily to ensure proper healing. You’ll need to rest, no strenuous activity, and absolutely no magic use on the injury—magic interference could worsen the effects. Take this tonic twice a day, avoid anything too cold—oh wait, your whole court is cold, hmm—well, maybe don’t sit in the snow for too long. And—”

She paused, realizing she was still talking.

She gave him a sheepish smile.

“Oh. Uh—sorry, my lord.” She bowed deeply. “I’ll… take my leave now.”

And just like that, she whirled around and left as quickly as she had come, the door clicking shut behind her.

Silence settled in his chambers.

Kallias just sat there, stunned, trying to process what the hell had just happened.

His gaze flickered to the door, as if expecting her to burst back in with another round of chatter.

She didn’t.

And yet—for some godsdamned reason, his chambers suddenly felt much colder.

The soft sound of the door clicking behind her echoed down the empty hallway. Y/N let out a long breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she straightened her robe and took a moment to steady her thoughts. The High Lord's chambers were eerily quiet, and now that she was outside, the weight of the moment hit her. She had never, in all her years as a healer, been summoned to tend to a High Lord—especially not Kallias, Lord of Winter.

She had always heard the rumors: Kallias was cold, distant, and completely unapproachable. His icy powers were a reflection of his personality—a male who trusted no one, who allowed only the bare minimum of interaction. She had always thought, maybe even hoped, that she wouldn’t be the one to face him. But here she was, having just treated his wound, with nothing but the cold, sterile scent of the palace halls to remind her of it.

It was strange, really. She had been nervous walking in, of course—who wouldn't be? But when she saw him, sitting there, with that sharp, regal posture, she couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of calm settle over her. She had seen plenty of injured soldiers and nobles in her time, but Kallias was different. His gaze had been piercing, his silence unnerving, but she had managed to push past it. Maybe it was her natural exuberance, or maybe it was the quiet desperation inside of her that made her speak to him so freely. But once she started talking, she couldn't stop. It was as if she couldn’t help herself—he was so cold, so distant, that she wanted to break through that ice, even if it meant talking his ear off.

Her stomach twisted as she walked down the hall, the heels of her boots clicking softly against the stone. The image of him—his sharp, icy eyes, the tension in his posture—kept replaying in her mind. And yet, despite his cold exterior, she found herself thinking about him. Was it the way he seemed so unaffected by her? Or was it the strange feeling that had settled in her chest when she’d touched his skin to heal him, when his sharp hiss had cut through the silence?

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. She hadn’t intended to make a spectacle of herself. She had never acted so loosearound a patient before. But something about Kallias had made her lose her usual professionalism. She had simply been… herself. And she couldn’t decide if she regretted it or not.

As she reached her chambers, Y/N quickly removed her healing satchel from her shoulder, placing it on the small table by the window. Her mind was still buzzing, and her hands itched to keep busy. She grabbed a small vial of herb tonic from the shelf, staring down at it for a long moment. The liquid inside shimmered in the low light, a soft blue-green glow. She started preparing another tonic to keep herself distracted, her movements swift and practiced as she crushed the dried herbs. But her mind was elsewhere.

It was silly, really. She had treated countless soldiers, nobles, even the occasional member of the court. But something about Kallias was… different. The way he’d stared at her when she had walked in—no one looked at her like that. It was the look of a man who had lived through decades of isolation, someone who was both imposing and dangerous, but there was also something else. Curiosity, perhaps? Or maybe it was just her imagination running wild.

She cursed herself for allowing her thoughts to wander back to him. Why was she even thinking about him? It wasn’t like he had shown her any kindness. In fact, he had barely spoken to her. That bitter coldness had wrapped around him like a blanket, and she had been the one to dive right into it. It was foolish. But then again, maybe she hadn’t been entirely wrong in doing so. He had let her heal him. He hadn’t called for another healer, and he hadn’t thrown her out. Maybe that was something, wasn’t it?

Y/N suddenly stopped mid-motion, her eyes wide. Was she sighing over Kallias? Her face flushed with embarrassment as she forced her mind back to her work. She would need to check on him tomorrow—his wound was deep, and it was going to take more than just a quick treatment to heal.

She gathered her thoughts, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling swirling in her stomach. Tomorrow would be another day. The High Lord was injured, yes, but he was just another patient. Another patient she needed to focus on. And when she went back to see him, she would keep things professional. No more talking, no more trying to break through his icy facade. She needed to be a healer, not a friend.

Her stomach twisted again as her mind flashed back to the way he had hissed when she touched him, the sharpness of it cutting through the air. It was as if she had momentarily crossed a boundary—one that he hadn’t allowed anyone to cross for a long time.

Y/N bit her lip, pushing the thoughts away. Tomorrow, she’d focus on the wound. Tomorrow, she’d make sure it healed properly, and nothing more. That was the job. That was what she was here for.

Y/N walked briskly down the palace corridors, the scent of morning dew still lingering in the air despite the heavy chill that seemed to follow the Winter Court even in the early hours. Her thoughts were consumed by the High Lord’s injury and how her treatment of it had left a curious impression on her. She had not expected the wound to be so severe, nor had she anticipated the subtle tension that had grown between her and Kallias during their brief interaction.

She had been awake since the crack of dawn, preparing her usual healing supplies, trying to find a quiet moment to gather her thoughts. But now, here she was, making her way to the High Lord's chambers to check on his recovery. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she had missed something. She had treated him with care—surely he would be resting. It had been such a deep injury after all.

But when Y/N arrived at his chambers, confusion struck her first. The door stood wide open, the room empty. The bed was unmade, the thick blankets thrown aside as if he had not even been there. A cold shiver slid down her spine, a strange sense of panic washing over her. Why isn’t he here?

Her brows furrowed. She stepped closer to the window, looking out at the stillness of the courtyard, but there was no sign of the High Lord. Her eyes darted around, searching the rooms for any clue. The last time she had seen him, he had been wounded, fragile, and now—now he was gone.

A sinking feeling settled in her gut. The hell is going on?

With determination, she turned on her heel and began walking quickly down the hallway, calling out to a few servants along the way, trying to catch wind of any gossip or movement that might explain where the High Lord had gone. No one seemed to know anything.

Her steps became quicker, her thoughts swirling with concern. She wasn't worried about his safety—no, she knew Kallias was more than capable of taking care of himself—but the fact that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be nagged at her. He should be resting. He shouldn’t be out there, moving around so soon. What was he thinking?

After a few more moments of searching, she found a servant outside a side door, speaking with another. She stopped in her tracks and approached him.

“Excuse me,” she asked, trying to keep the sharpness from her voice, “Have you seen the High Lord this morning?”

The servant blinked, pausing for a second before bowing deeply. “Ah, Lady Healer. The High Lord is not in his chambers this morning. He’s in the training grounds.” He quickly added, “He insisted on continuing his training despite the injury.”

Y/N felt frustration claw at her throat as she nodded curtly. “Training grounds, you say?” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t have to be told twice. Without another word, she turned and stormed off, her boots slapping against the stone floor with every furious step. She was angry, worried, but mostly, she was disappointed. After everything I said last night, he’s still going out there to train like this?

The more she thought about it, the more infuriated she became. What kind of fae would ignore their own orders, their own well-being, just to look strong?

As she neared the training grounds, the cold, crisp air hit her full force, but her temper kept her warm. She was already fuming by the time she stepped out into the open field. The sight before her was more infuriating than she could have imagined.

There, in the middle of the training grounds, stood Kallias, half-naked, his broad chest exposed to the biting cold. His chest and torso were rippling with muscle—sharply defined, each movement a testament to his power. But what struck Y/N the most was the wound—still visible, still raw, bandaged and still not properly healed despite her efforts.

Her heart raced for a moment as her eyes lingered, taking in his impressive form. But she immediately shoved those thoughts away—there was no time for that. No time to think about how attractive he looked standing there.

“Damnit, Lord Kallias!” she muttered, her voice low but seething with irritation.

She stormed toward him, her anger propelling her forward, and the soldiers training around them watched her approach, their eyes widening at the sight of the healer marching directly into the middle of the field. Y/N didn’t care. She didn’t care about the stares or the whispers that followed her. She didn’t care that all of them were staring in stunned silence as she pushed through their ranks.

Kallias, however, did care.

He turned just in time to see her standing there, arms crossed in front of him, a deep frown etched on her face. For a split second, she thought she saw surprise flicker in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with that same cold, steely expression he always wore.

“Miss Y/N?” His voice was laced with confusion, his posture stiffening.

But before he could say another word, she reached out and pinched his arm, hard.

He shifted away from her with a low growl, his icy gaze snapping to hers. His lips curled in irritation as he finally spoke through clenched teeth. “What the hell are you doing here, miss Y/N?”

Y/N didn’t back down. She stood tall, chin lifted, her eyes filled with both exasperation and frustration. “Me? I should be asking you the same question, my lord!” she snapped, her voice carrying across the training grounds.

The soldiers exchanged stunned glances, some of them gasping at her words. Kallias’s expression shifted to one of cold indifference as he grasped her arm and began pulling her away from the field, his fingers biting into her skin.

“Keep the work going,” he ordered his second in command, who nodded and continued the training as Kallias led Y/N to a quieter area on the side.

Once they were far enough from the soldiers, Kallias let go of her arm, stepping back, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at her. “Listen to me and listen very well, because I will be saying this only once, Miss Y/N. I don’t know what gives you the confidence to act this way, but you may do this to anyone, anyone but me. I am your High Lord, not some sleazyfriend of yours. I demand a professional, respectful approach. Understood?”

Y/N stared at him, her face unchanging, before letting out a long, exasperated sigh. “No.”

Kallias’s icy demeanor faltered for a second, his eyes flashing with disbelief. “No?”

“No,” she repeated defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You got injured just yesterday! And today you’re up and training? Have you no care for your body?”

Her voice cracked through the air as she stepped closer, her anger bubbling over. “Didn’t you hear my orders last night?! On top of all this, you’re training shirtless in the cold! You’ll make the injury worse!”

Kallias raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening. “Shirtless? In the cold?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Miss Y/N, look around you. We’re in the Winter Court. I’m the gods-damned High Lord of Winter. The cold doesn’t affect me in the least.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her frustration reaching its peak. She marched right up to him and pointed a finger at his chest. “So what?” she hissed. “It still has negative effects on the injury! The wound could get worse! You could develop an infection or—”

Kallias interrupted her, cutting her off in an exasperated tone. “Alright, very well. Cauldron boil me—just shut your mouth!” He rubbed his forehead, clearly trying to hold back his own rising temper. “Wait for me to put on a shirt, and then follow me to my bedchambers.”

Y/N, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone, found herself beaming. “Alright, High Lord,” she said, her voice lighter than it had been all morning.

But before Kallias could even blink, Y/N squealed in delight and threw her arms around him, pulling him into an unexpected hug.

Kallias’s eyes widened, his body tensing as he let out a sharp hiss of surprise. “Don’t ever touch me like that again,” he muttered coldly, pushing her away with an icy shove. “Unless it's for healing purposes.”

Y/N stepped back sheepishly, a flush creeping up her neck as she muttered an apology. “Sorry…”

He shot her a glare, the frost in his gaze never faltering. “Let’s go,” he ordered, turning to lead the way.

Y/N followed, still smiling faintly, the words of their exchange dancing in her mind. The day had barely begun, but she had a feeling it was going to be a long one.

Kallias walked beside Y/N, his movements brisk, and his mind occupied with the tumultuous thoughts that seemed to swirl in the wake of her presence. He kept his gaze forward, trying to block out the sound of her incessant chatter, but it was impossible not to hear her. She was speaking—again.

“I still don’t get why you’re so stubborn about it, my lord. Yesterday, you were practically on the verge of collapsing, and today, you’re already training like nothing happened! Like you’ve never even had a wound.”

She paused briefly for a breath, and Kallias’ lips twitched slightly in irritation. He could feel the weight of her words pressing against him, and even though she didn’t mean to, her concern did something to him. Something he could not afford to acknowledge.

“You’re lucky I’m not treating you like a child, My Lord,” she continued, oblivious to the narrowing of his icy eyes. “I mean, how do you expect to heal if you keep pushing yourself? I’ve heard of high lords being stubborn, but you—”

“I didn’t ask,” Kallias interjected in a clipped tone, his cold eyes flickering toward her for a moment, his breath steady despite the frustration rising inside him.

Y/N, undeterred, responded with a casual shrug. “Well, you should have, because it’s ridiculous, really. You’re supposed to be healing, not playing soldier, and—”

“Miss Y/N,” he growled, his patience starting to thin like ice cracking beneath the weight of her words. “I’m well aware of my body’s limits, but you don’t need to remind me every minute.”

She glanced up at him, eyes full of defiance as always, but he noticed the slight shift in her expression when he didn’t break eye contact. She was starting to pick up on the tension between them, even if she didn’t fully understand it.

The cold silence that followed didn’t last long. She had a tendency to fill it with more chatter.

"Anyway, I’m just saying, if you’re not careful, you might aggravate the injury even more! Did you know that could lead to—"

“I did not ask,” Kallias repeated, his words colder than before, his tone carrying a warning. “Do you ever stop talking, lady Y/N?”

For a brief moment, she seemed to consider his words, but the inevitable happened. “Well, I just think—”

“Enough,” he snapped, not bothering to hide the edge of his irritation any longer. “Please, for the love of the gods, can you hold your tongue for one minute?”

She looked taken aback but held her silence, the stubbornness in her gaze still present, and he couldn’t quite decide if it annoyed him or intrigued him. It wasn’t often that someone dared to speak to him this way. His gaze flickered over her, eyes narrowing as he noticed how she still walked so determinedly at his side, as though everything in the world could be solved by her prattling. It was infuriating, yet... somehow, it wasn’t.

A tinge of something unfamiliar stirred beneath the icy surface of his thoughts, but he pushed it aside, burying it in the deep recesses of his mind. He would not indulge these feelings. Not for her.

When they finally reached his chambers, Kallias stepped forward, opening the door for her without a word, his mind already working on the next set of instructions he would need to give her. He just wanted to get this over with quickly—have her do whatever healing she thought necessary, and then let him be.

Y/N walked inside with a quiet hum, her energy filling the room as she made her way to the table to prepare the healing supplies. Kallias couldn’t help but glance at her again, the way her hair swayed with every movement, the soft curve of her figure, the subtle grace with which she moved. It was like a goddamn pull on him, but he couldn’t understand it. He shouldn’t feel it. And yet—

He forced himself to look away, his thoughts twisting and his mood darkening.

“I’m glad you’re being so cooperative,” she murmured as she gathered her supplies, giving him a teasing smile. “Now, just sit back, will you? I promise I won’t bite.”

Her light tone irritated him more than it should have. His jaw tightened, and without thinking, he sat down on the chair she had indicated, his hands resting on the armrests. He felt her gaze on him again, heard her soft breathing as she moved around him, preparing everything with a hum of concentration.

“Alright, now let’s talk healing,” she began, her voice soft yet insistent. “Tell me if it still hurts, any sharp twinges, discomfort, anything. I need to know how your body’s reacting so I can better gauge what’s wrong.”

Kallias clenched his jaw, staring ahead as she moved closer. His thoughts were fighting him now, the fluttering feeling in his chest rising again as she stood over him, examining him with that endless curiosity in her gaze. His eyes flicked to her hands, noting how carefully she began to touch his shoulder, working her fingers over the injury. He winced slightly at the pressure.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual.

“No, you’re not,” she shot back, her tone serious now. “You’re hurt. I saw it yesterday. Don’t lie to me, lord Kallias. I’m here to fix this, not let you ruin yourself.”

The way she said his name, the way she took charge without asking for permission—it rattled him, more than he’d like to admit. He clenched his hands tightly, but the knot of frustration in his chest only tightened.

“Stop pushing yourself so hard,” she continued, her voice softening. “You’re not invincible, you know.”

But Kallias wasn’t about to let her know how much her words affected him. He wasn’t about to let himself think of her as anything other than an irritating healer who needed to leave. Now.

Yet still, there was something in the way she touched him—so unexpectedly gentle, yet firm—that made his heart flutter.

He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling sharply as he focused on the icy indifference that had long been his armor. He would not break. Not now.

And when she finally stepped away, satisfied with her work, he sighed heavily, leaning back into the chair with a cold expression. “Is that all?” he muttered, his voice low and rough.

She nodded with that damnable grin of hers. “For now. I’ll check in on you later, but don’t try to sneak off anywhere, okay? You’ll be back in here again soon.”

He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t need her worrying about him. He didn’t need anyone.

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered again, though his heart wasn’t entirely convinced of that.

Y/N sat in the bustling dining hall, the scent of warm bread and roasted meat filling the air as she absently stirred her tea. She was seated at a long wooden table with two other healers—Eira and Lillian—both of whom had been working in the palace for years. The conversation had been lighthearted at first, filled with chatter about the usual daily struggles: difficult patients, the upcoming winter solstice celebrations, and the latest gossip about court politics.

“I swear, if I have to deal with another whiny noble complaining about a bruise,” Eira sighed dramatically, dragging her spoon through her soup. “Like, Cauldron forbid they suffer an actual wound for once in their pampered lives.”

Lillian chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, please. The nobles are nothing compared to the warriors. Those brutes act as if they don’t need healers. I had to physically restrain one the other day just to keep him from walking off mid-stitching.”

Y/N hummed in agreement, sipping her tea, until Eira suddenly turned to her with a smirk. “Speaking of stubborn warriors… I still can’t believe you were the one chosen to heal the High Lord.”

Y/N nearly choked on her tea. She coughed, placing her cup down carefully, trying to appear unaffected. “Oh, well. I am a master healer, after all,” she said, waving a hand as if it was no big deal. “It’s just my job.”

Lillian snorted. “Just your job? Please. Do you know how many of us would kill to be in your position? The High Lord of Winter, alone, in his chambers, letting you touch him?”

Y/N stiffened. “It’s not like that.”

Eira sighed dreamily. “Gods, I would give anything to see him up close and personal. Just once.”

Lillian nudged her playfully. “Oh, don’t act like you’d be able to do anything if you were chosen. You’d probably faint the moment he looked at you.”

“Excuse me,” Eira said with mock offense. “I would not faint. I’d just… appreciate the moment. His eyes, his voice… that body.”

Lillian let out a snicker. “And his temperament?”

Eira winced. “Okay, fair point.”

Y/N stayed silent, feeling an unusual warmth creep up her neck. She had never been the shy type—she could hold her own in any conversation, throw sarcasm and wit as easily as she wielded her healing magic—but there was something about the way they were talking about Kallias that made her… uncomfortable.

“I heard he hates everyone anyway,” Lillian added after a pause, leaning in slightly. “There was even a rumor once that he probably doesn’t have a mate because of how distant he is.”

Eira hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I mean… I can’t imagine him actually loving someone. He’s like an icicle brought to life. No warmth, no softness. Just duty and power.”

Lillian nodded. “Exactly. It’s like… he was made to rule, not to love.”

Y/N remained silent, staring at her untouched plate of food, her thoughts a tangled mess.

She had only known Kallias for a short while—had only spent a few hours in his presence, really—but something about what they were saying didn’t sit right with her.

Yes, he was cold. Yes, he was distant. But there was something else beneath that icy exterior. Something she couldn’t quite place. A weight he carried, a loneliness he hid behind sharp words and an even sharper gaze.

She thought about the way he had looked at her earlier, how he had reacted to her presence, how his irritation had flickered into something else before he had swiftly buried it away.

She shouldn’t care. She didn’t care.

And yet…

“…Y/N?”

She blinked, realizing that Lillian and Eira were both staring at her, waiting for a response.

“Oh,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I suppose he is quite the mystery.”

Lillian shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll get an answer to that mystery.”

Eira scoffed. “Unlikely. The High Lord doesn’t let anyone close enough to find out.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her cup as her mind continued to swirl with thoughts she definitelyshould not be having.

By now, she really shouldn’t have been surprised.

And yet, when she stepped into Kallias’ chambers only to find them empty once more, a frustrated sigh tore from her throat before she could stop it.

Cauldron damn him.

She had explicitly told him to rest. He had agreed—or at least hadn’t argued against her orders when she’d last left him. And yet, here she was, standing in an empty bedroom, staring at the neatly made bed that had very obviously not been used.

Her thoughts churned as she whirled around and stormed out, flagging down the first passing servant she could find. “Where is he?” she demanded, not even bothering with pleasantries.

The servant, a young fae male, blinked at her in surprise. “Who, my lady?”

She narrowed her eyes. “The High Lord,” she said through gritted teeth, though she was this close to just calling him that infuriating man who refuses to listen to basic healing instructions.

The servant quickly dipped his head in respect. “He’s in his study, my lady.”

The tension in her shoulders eased—just slightly. At least he wasn’t outside aggravating his injury further. She nodded in thanks before making her way toward the study, still brimming with frustration.

By the time she reached the grand doors, she had almost convinced herself to be patient. Almost.

But the moment she stepped inside, the cool, indifferent voice that greeted her immediately shattered whatever patience she had managed to gather.

“Another checkup?”

Kallias didn’t even look at her as he spoke. His attention remained fixed on the papers in front of him, a single candle casting flickering shadows over his sharp features.

Y/N’s irritation flared all over again. “Well, it’s not like I enjoy chasing after you across this entire palace just to make sure you haven’t bled out somewhere,” she snapped, shutting the door behind her. “But seeing as someone is incapable of following simple instructions—”

She marched closer, and it was only then that she noticed what he was doing. His fingers were smudged with ink, an elegant quill in hand as he moved it across parchment in sharp, fluid strokes. He was writing something—letters, perhaps, or reports. His focus was unwavering, the crease between his brows deep with concentration.

“And what are you even doing here?” she went on, glancing at the neatly stacked piles of paper surrounding him. “Shouldn’t you be resting? I mean, really, you barely listen to anything I—”

She stopped mid-rant, her hands already moving on their own. Before he could protest, she reached forward and gently lifted the hem of his shirt just enough to check his wound.

A quick glance told her that, despite his recklessness, the injury hadn’t worsened. The healing process was slow, but steady. Still, she muttered under her breath as she pulled out the soothing balm she had brought with her, rubbing a generous amount between her fingers before applying it to his skin.

She could feel the way his muscles tensed slightly under her touch, but he didn’t say a word. Didn’t react. Just sat there, the same cold, indifferent mask on his face.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to talk, she would talk enough for the both of them.

“You know, most people actually listen to their healers,” she grumbled as she worked. “Most people don’t make their healer’s job ten times harder by actively ignoring the most basic instructions.”

Silence.

She huffed. “At this point, I should start charging extra for how much trouble you’re putting me through.”

Still, nothing.

She narrowed her eyes, pausing for a moment to glance up at his face. “Are you always this difficult, or do you just save it for me?”

That earned her a flicker of something in his eyes, but he still said nothing.

She sighed dramatically. “You know, a normal person would at least say thank you for all this.”

His only response was an unimpressed glance.

Y/N rolled her eyes and finished up, wiping her hands on a spare cloth before gathering her things.

“There,” she said, standing up and dusting off her hands. “You’re good for tonight. Try to actually stay put this time.”

She turned toward the door, ready to leave and get some well-earned rest, when—

“…Is it true you have no mate?”

The words were out before she could stop them.

Y/N froze.

Cauldron damn her mouth.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned back around—just in time to see Kallias’ head slowly lift. His eyes locked onto hers, cold and unreadable, as one elegant brow arched ever so slightly.

She went scarlet.

“I—I mean—” She let out a nervous laugh, waving her hands in front of her. “Not that it’s any of my business! It’s just—um—I heard something, and I didn’t mean to say it out loud but then my mouth just—”

She saw the sharp way his jaw tightened, the way his expression became even icier, and she instantly knew she had made a grave mistake.

“Leave.”

Her breath caught. “I—sorry?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Instead of asking questions that don’t concern you in the tiniest bit,” he said, his voice like cutting ice, “do me a great favor by excusing yourself.”

Oh.

Oh, she really screwed up.

Her heart pounded as she quickly bowed her head. “Of course. I—my apologies, my lord. I didn’t mean—”

“Leave,” he repeated, his voice final.

She didn’t need to be told again.

Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and all but fled the study, cursing herself all the way down the dimly lit hallways.

It was two days later when the harsh blizzard finally descended upon the Winter Court. It wasn’t unusual—if anything, it was tradition. Towards the end of each year, without fail, the worst storm of the season would roll in, blanketing the land in thick, unforgiving snow. A storm that lasted precisely three days, as if the Winter Court itself abided by a law older than time.

For most, this meant retreating into the warmth of their homes, waiting out the storm beside crackling hearths, wrapped in thick furs with a cup of steaming tea in hand. For Y/N and the rest of the healers, however, it was hell.

The worst time of the year.

Unlike the palace, the healers’ ward was situated a little away from the main estate, standing separately within the court’s walls. Usually, it wasn’t a problem. The short walk from the palace to the ward was a simple, if not refreshing, journey. But during this storm? It was nothing short of a nightmare.

The winds howled like raging beasts, slicing through even the thickest of layers. The snow came down in sheets, covering everything in sight, and with each gust of wind, it felt as if the world itself were screaming. And Y/N—idiot that she was—had to trek through this chaos twice a day.

For the past two days, she had been cursing everything and everyone—including herself. Because despite the storm, despite the fact that she could barely see two feet in front of her, she still found herself trudging her way to the palace. The howling winds deafened her ears, the ice clung to her skin, and she felt like she might actually die before reaching her destination.

So when she finally, finally stumbled past the palace gates, nearly collapsing against the guards stationed there, she could’ve kissed them both in gratitude.

She was frozen. A literal icicle. She barely registered the concerned murmurs of the guards before they reached for her, offering warm cloaks, offering to guide her to one of the fires so she could thaw.

She shook her head, her voice crackling with cold. “W-Where’s the High Lord?”

The guards exchanged a glance before one of them hesitantly answered. “In the sitting room, my lady.”

Y/N barely nodded before setting off, her limbs trembling as she forced herself forward. Every step felt heavy, her soaked boots dragging against the marble floors as she made her way through the palace halls.

By the time she reached the sitting room, her entire body ached—her fingers stiff, her face numb. She had half a mind to collapse right then and there, but she pushed through, willing herself to move.

Slowly, she pushed the doors open.

And there he was.

Kallias sat in one of the cushioned chairs, a book in his hand, his expression cold and unreadable. His focus remained entirely on the page before him as he turned it, his voice carrying through the room, sharp as a blade.

“I told you, Talen, I don’t want anyone coming in—”

He cut off mid-sentence.

His gaze snapped up, locking onto her, and she watched as his expression shifted—his usual coldness melting into something sharper, angrier.

Slowly, he shut his book. Set it aside.

Then, in a voice laced with fury, he asked, “Why the hell are you here?”

Y/N tried to speak, but her lips barely moved. She was so cold, her breath uneven as she forced herself to answer. “I—I had to check up on you—”

She yapped on, explaining how she had to come, how his injury needed proper tending, how—

He cut her off, stepping closer, his sharp eyes scanning her from head to toe. “In this weather?” His voice was dangerously low. “Couldn’t you have waited for the blizzard to end?”

She surprised even herself when she answered, her words quiet but firm. “I could have waited, but the injury couldn’t. If it doesn’t get treated daily, it could fester—”

A frustrated sigh left him. She watched as he turned around, striding towards a nearby chair, grabbing something before—

A thick, fur-lined blanket was thrown at her.

“Sit,” he ordered.

She blinked at him, her frozen hands clutching at the warmth now draped over her shoulders. “N-No need,” she stammered. “I just need to check—”

“Miss Y/N,” he said coolly, his eyes flashing as he moved past her, yanking the door open. “Just sit, will you?”

She clamped her mouth shut.

The servants outside barely had time to straighten before he commanded them to bring in warm tea. And then, just as quickly, he shut the door again, turning back toward her.

His gaze locked onto hers.

“Now,” he said, his voice like ice, “let’s get one thing clear, alright? You do not, ever, risk your life for me. No one does.”

Her brow furrowed. Confusion flickered across her face before something else settled in its place. Anger.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she said stiffly, “but it’s my job. My duty. Your health, and the rest of our people’s health, is always my priority—”

He stepped closer.

His presence loomed over her as he looked down, his gaze cold as he cut her off.

“I don’t need your death to then be a burden on my shoulders, alright?” His words were quiet, but they were sharp, unwavering. “So keep the hero complex to yourself and stop risking your life for every damned thing or one. Includingme.”

Y/N opened her mouth, ready to snap back, but before she could, the door opened once more.

The servants entered, setting down the tray of steaming tea before stepping back.

Kallias barely spared them a glance before dismissing them with a nod.

And then, with a firm voice, he said, “Drink.”

She stared at him, bewildered.

“The checkup can wait,” he added, moving back to his seat, picking up his book once more. “You’ll do no healing if you freeze to death first.”

Silence settled between them.

Y/N sat there, the warm blanket wrapped around her, her fingers stiff as they reached for the tea.

She didn’t speak—not yet.

Instead, her mind churned with thoughts, with feelings she couldn’t quite place.

And across from her, Kallias simply turned a page in his book, as if nothing had happened at all.

The warmth seeped into her fingers first, then her limbs, then the rest of her body as she slowly nursed her tea. Each sip melted away the ice that had settled deep in her bones, thawing her from the inside out.

By the time she placed the empty cup down on the small table before her, she felt somewhat herself again.

She sighed, stretching out her fingers before rubbing some feeling back into them. Then, with a quiet exhale, she straightened and—almost like an announcement—sighed, “Alright. Let’s see how your injury is doing.”

She stood, her movements still a little stiff as she reached for her supplies. But when she turned back toward him, she nearly froze again.

Kallias was already shirtless.

Without a word, without even acknowledging her statement, he had discarded his layers, revealing the lean, sculpted muscles of his back and shoulders. The light from the nearby hearth cast shadows along his frame, emphasizing the tautness of his muscles, the pale stretch of his skin, the deep gash along his side that she had been tending to.

But he wasn’t looking at her.

His head was turned slightly to the side, his book still in his hands, his expression unreadable as he continued to read, as if this was all just routine. As if he wasn’t half-naked in the middle of a dimly lit sitting room with a woman standing behind him, staring.

Staring.

Y/N swallowed. Goddess above.

She wasn’t unused to tending injuries—far from it. She had seen countless wounds, countless bodies, countless scars in her years as a healer. But this?

This was different.

Because it was him.

And it was just them.

She forced herself to move, her boots barely making a sound against the floor as she stepped closer, her eyes flickering to the injury on his side.

It had healed well. The once-raw wound had closed significantly, no longer angry and inflamed. But it was still tender, still prone to irritation if left unchecked.

She reached out, gently pressing her fingers to the unbroken skin around the wound. His muscles tensed under her touch, a barely noticeable shift—but she felt it.

“The healing is going well,” she murmured, focusing on her work rather than the way the heat of his skin radiated beneath her fingertips. “No signs of infection. But you still need treatment for a few more days.”

He said nothing.

Didn’t even glance at her.

Only turned another page in his book.

Y/N shook her head to herself, pulling away to grab the salve from her kit. Silently, she worked, smoothing the mixture over the injury with practiced, delicate movements. And the entire time, he remained completely still—silent and composed, as if her touch, the cold ointment, the entire situation, meant nothing.

By the time she finished, she was still half-convinced she had imagined the subtle tension in his frame, the brief flicker of his fingers gripping the book tighter.

She stepped back, wiping her hands on a cloth before beginning to pack her supplies. But before she could finish—

“You’re staying in the palace tonight.”

The unexpected words cut through the quiet, and she stilled.

Blinking, she turned toward him, confused. “What?”

Finally, finally, Kallias shifted his gaze from his book, his cool, sharp eyes landing on her. “You cannot withstand another blizzard,” he said simply. “You’re not leaving.”

Her lips parted slightly. “I—no, it’s fine. I can make it back.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Are you disobeying my orders, Miss Y/N?”

The way he said it—low, quiet, unwavering—made her pulse stutter.

A test. A challenge. A command.

Her breath hitched slightly before she exhaled in defeat, her hands clenching at her sides.

“…Fine.”

Clearly satisfied, Kallias inclined his head slightly before shifting his attention back to his book. A few moments later, a quiet knock came at the door, and he barely glanced up as he said, “The servants will escort you to your quarters.”

Y/N turned, seeing one of the waiting staff standing at the entrance, head bowed.

But instead of following them, she hesitated.

Then, before she could even think about what she was doing, she turned away from the door and walked back into the room, back toward the sofa.

She sat down.

And stayed.

For the first time since she arrived, Kallias actually looked surprised.

His cold, unreadable expression flickered ever so slightly as he turned his head toward her, his brows lowering in silent question.

She settled deeper into the sofa, ignoring the clear expectation that she would leave. Instead, she tilted her head, studying him as he resumed reading.

“I figured I could ask you some questions.”

Kallias didn’t even look up. “No.”

She huffed a small laugh. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t entertain meaningless conversations.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think it’s meaningless.”

He sighed quietly, flipping a page in his book.

Unbothered, she pressed on. “How long have you been High Lord?”

Silence.

Then—

“…A while.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

“I believe it is.”

She shook her head. “Alright, let’s try this. Were you trained for it your whole life?”

This time, there was a longer pause. Then—

“Yes.”

Progress.

She settled in further, warming her fingers against the fading heat of her tea. “And did you ever want to be something else?”

That got his attention.

For the first time since the conversation began, he glanced at her, his pale blue eyes assessing.

She held his gaze, waiting.

But after a moment, he simply turned back to his book.

Interesting.

She continued, undeterred. “I wasn’t trained to be a healer, you know.”

He didn’t respond, but she caught the way his fingers stilled slightly against the book’s spine.

“I wanted to be a scholar,” she admitted. “A historian.”

This time, his gaze flickered back to her, his expression unreadable.

“…Then why didn’t you?”

She exhaled quietly. “Because people needed me. My family, my friends, my court—they needed someone to tend to them, to make sure they lived.” She offered a small, wry smile. “So I chose healing.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then, to her surprise, he murmured, “I see.”

Encouraged, she tilted her head. “And you? Did you ever want something else?”

Nothing.

She gave him a moment, then tried again. “Come on. You must’ve had some kind of dream when you were younger.”

Still, he remained silent.

She sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine. If you won’t answer that, then let’s go simpler. What’s your favorite season?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You do realize where you are, don’t you?”

She grinned slightly. “So… winter, then?”

He shot her a look but said nothing.

She decided to push a little further. “What about books? You read a lot, clearly. Do you have a favorite?”

His fingers tightened on the pages ever so slightly.

But he still didn’t answer.

Her grin widened. “Are you just refusing to speak now out of sheer stubbornness?”

No response.

She sighed again, feigning disappointment. “Fine, then. I’ll guess.”

She tapped her chin dramatically. “You seem like the type to prefer strategy books. Maybe war tactics? Or—no, wait—ancient philosophy.”

Nothing.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Don’t tell me you secretly enjoy romance novels.”

His sharp gaze snapped to hers.

And that was all the confirmation she needed.

A slow, delighted smile spread across her face.

“Oh,” she breathed. “You do, don’t you?”

His expression darkened. “I do not.”

She grinned. “Right. Of course. The icy, brooding High Lord of Winter doesn’t secretly read tragic love stories.”

His glare was withering. “You are insufferable.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

Still, she could see the subtle tension in his shoulders now—the faint stiffness of someone unused to being the center of such questioning.

Good.

She adjusted her position on the sofa, tilting her head again. “Alright, I’ll stop pestering you about books.”

A long exhale left his lips, as if he’d won a battle.

But then she added, “Instead, tell me about your family.”

His body went still.

That was different.

It was a shift, a crack in the cold, unaffected mask he had been wearing.

She watched as his fingers curled just slightly around the book, his shoulders stiffening—not with irritation, but with something else.

He didn’t look at her.

Didn’t even blink.

The tension was different this time.

And she knew, knew, she had finally pushed too far.

Before she could say another word, Kallias abruptly shut his book with a decisive snap.

“The servants will show you to your room,” he said coolly, rising to his feet. “Good night, Miss Y/N.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

But before she could protest, he was already heading toward the door, already moving past her as if the conversation had never happened.

And just before he left, his voice—quiet, controlled—echoed one last time.

“…Get some rest.”

Then he was gone.

Leaving Y/N staring after him, her mind racing with everything unsaid.

After that night—the night she had stayed in the palace—her days followed a routine.

Every afternoon, she would make the long trek from the healers’ quarters to the palace, the Winter winds biting at her skin. Every afternoon, she would be granted entrance, and every afternoon, she would find Kallias in the same spot—seated in his chair, a book in his hands, his icy demeanor never thawing.

And every afternoon, without fail, she would talk.

Not because he ever encouraged it. No, Kallias had made it very clear from the beginning that he had no interest in conversation. But that never stopped her.

She spoke of her past, of her childhood in the harsh winters of their court, of the first time she had ever seen magic and how it had terrified and mesmerized her in equal measure. She told him of her first patient, a boy who had nearly lost his hand in an accident but had left the healer’s hut grinning, whole and healed. She told him about her mother, who had always scolded her for not dressing warmly enough, and about the first time she had snuck out during a blizzard—how it had been so terrifying, so exhilarating.

Kallias never responded.

Or, at least, not in words.

He would sit there, book in hand, casting her the occasional sharp glance. When she asked him questions—How old were you when you first used magic? Did you always want to be High Lord? Do you have any hobbies besides glaring at me like I’m a pest?—he would shut her down with silence, or a curt, That is none of your concern.

Still, she pressed on.

She asked about his court, his people, his childhood. She made comments about how the palace had the most ridiculously large fireplaces she’d ever seen, about how the food was much better than what she usually had at the healers' quarters, about how he really should get a dog.

And every time, he would just look at her, cold and unimpressed.

She knew he hated it—her endless chattering, her insistence on filling the silence. But the strangest part?

He never told her to stop.

Not once.

Even when he glared, even when he shut her down, even when he looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world, he never told her to leave.

And that was enough for her to keep going.

But then—

Then the injury started healing.

And with every passing day, the realization settled heavier in her chest.

Soon, she would have no reason to see him again.

It was a ridiculous thought. This was her job. She had done this with countless patients before—treated them, helped them heal, and then moved on.

So why did the idea of moving on from this patient feel… wrong?

Why did it feel like a loss?

She tried not to dwell on it.

Instead, she continued her routine—her visits, her stories, her relentless attempts to break through the ice.

One afternoon, as she checked his wound, she found herself grinning before she even realized she was speaking.

“So,” she said lightly, wrapping fresh bandages around his torso. “Now that I’ve been tending to you for nearly three weeks, does this mean we’re best friends?”

She had meant it as a joke.

A small tease.

But when she looked up, she found his cold gaze locked onto her, unreadable.

And then—

A sharp, quiet No.

The word cut through the space between them like a blade.

And even though she had meant the question as nothing more than a playful jab, the answer—his answer—stung more than she expected.

She let out a small, breathy laugh, trying to shake off the odd ache in her chest.

“Well,” she said, forcing a smile. “That was unnecessarily harsh.”

He didn’t respond.

Of course he didn’t.

But for the first time since she had started tending to him, she found she didn’t want to keep talking.

For the first time, she wondered if she had imagined it all—if she had imagined the progress, the tiny cracks in his walls, the way he never told her to stop, the way he let her speak, even if he never contributed.

Maybe she had been a fool.

Maybe Kallias really was just as cold as everyone claimed him to be.

And maybe—just maybe—she cared more than she should.

But did that stop her? Hell no. If anything, it just encouraged her stubborn self more.

The palace glittered with ice and silver, chandeliers casting cold light across the grand ballroom. The music wove through the space like a delicate snowfall, each note crisp and elegant. Nobles in their finest attire swayed in effortless dances, their laughter and conversation blending into the background hum of aristocratic life.

She wasn’t here as a guest.

None of the healers were.

Dressed in her best gown—her only luxurious dress—she stood at the edges of the hall with the others, waiting in case their services were required. It was a simple thing, her gown. A soft, glittering silver that caught the candlelight whenever she moved. Nothing extravagant, nothing adorned with jewels like the noblewomen who glided across the floor, but beautiful in its own quiet way.

Not that it mattered.

She wasn’t here to be seen.

And yet, she still found her eyes drawn toward him.

Kallias stood at the head of the room, exuding that same untouchable air, dressed in regal white and deep winter blue. He was everything a High Lord should be—cold, composed, a vision of power and control.

It had been weeks since she had first begun tending to him. Weeks of sitting by his side, pressing salves into his skin, wrapping fresh bandages, filling the silence with stories about herself while he listened in his usual silence.

The wound was nearly healed now. Soon, she would no longer have a reason to visit him.

That thought had settled uneasily in her chest all evening, but she had shoved it away, refusing to dwell on it.

She had no reason to.

And then—

Her breath caught.

From her place near the back of the room, she watched as a noblewoman—tall, poised, with pale silver-blonde hair—approached Kallias.

And Kallias… looked at her.

Not in passing, not with the cold indifference he usually carried.

No, he took her hand.

And then, with a faint smirk—a smirk she had never seen directed at herself—he led the woman onto the dance floor.

Her world tilted.

She should have looked away. Should have turned her attention elsewhere. But she couldn’t.

She could only watch.

Watch as he placed a hand on the woman’s waist, as they moved together with effortless grace. As the world around them blurred into nothing.

It was the kind of dance meant for lovers.

Slow, intimate, a silent conversation spoken through the closeness of their bodies.

And Kallias—so often cold, so often distant—allowed it.

Welcomed it.

The realization slammed into her, sharper than any winter wind.

She felt the sting behind her eyes before she even understood what was happening.

A foolish, ridiculous pain bloomed in her chest, spreading through her like ice cracking beneath the weight of something unbearable.

It made no sense.

She had no claim over him.

No reason to feel this way.

And yet—

Why does it hurt?

The thought sent her reeling, her breathing suddenly uneven.

She needed to leave.

“I—excuse me,” she murmured, barely even aware of who she spoke to as she turned, walking swiftly out of the ballroom.

The moment she was out of sight, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

The air outside was cold, the night wind biting at her skin, but it did nothing to dull the ache in her chest.

She pressed a hand to her ribs, as if she could hold herself together.

Idiot, she cursed herself. Fool.

What did you expect?

Had she really convinced herself that these weeks had meant something?

That she had mattered to him?

A bitter laugh slipped from her lips, and she tilted her head back to the sky, blinking rapidly, forcing the tears down.

She would not cry.

Not over this.

Not over him.

And yet, the thought of facing him again tomorrow, of pressing her fingers to his skin, of pretending that none of this mattered—

It made her feel like she was unraveling.

Taking a shuddering breath, she straightened.

And then, like slipping on armor, she schooled her features into something unreadable.

The fakest, brightest smile she could muster.

Because this was who she was.

Someone who put others before herself.

She was fine.

She was fine.

She was fine.

Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Y/N sat beside Kallias once again, her hands methodically unwrapping the bandages from his injury. She had done this countless times before—press, check, apply, rewrap. But today, it felt different.

Because you’re an idiot.

The words replayed in her mind over and over again. She had barely slept the previous night, her thoughts filled with the image of Kallias on that dance floor, his hand resting so easily on that noblewoman’s waist, the way he had smirked at her.

Had he ever smirked at her?

No.

The thought shouldn’t sting, but it did.

So she did what she always did. She talked.

She talked, and talked, and talked, desperate to fill the silence, to cover up the ache in her chest.

“Oh, and did I tell you about the time I accidentally healed a sprained ankle instead of a broken rib? You should’ve seen the poor man’s face—he looked so betrayed. Honestly, I don’t blame him, but in my defense, he was very unclear about where the pain actually was, and—”

She glanced up at Kallias, expecting the usual impassive look, the distant, unreadable gaze. But instead, she found him… tense.

More so than usual.

His jaw was clenched, his shoulders taut beneath the loose fabric of his tunic. Every word she spoke seemed to wind him tighter, like a string about to snap.

She swallowed, but forced a laugh.

“Anyway, he ended up having to go to another healer because I was so embarrassed I refused to fix my mistake. You should’ve seen my mentor’s face—gods, she was furious—”

“Gods,” Kallias suddenly snapped, his voice low and rough, “do you ever shut up?!”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

Kallias had risen abruptly, turning to her with a sharp, ice-cold glare. His usual controlled demeanor was gone, replaced by sheer exasperation—by anger.

“It’s always talking and talking with you,” he continued, his tone laced with venom. “You never stop to consider whether I even want to hear you talk. I tried, for the past month, I really fucking did, Miss Y/N. But I am at my tipping point with you and your useless babbling.”

Her heart stopped.

“This is it,” he bit out. “You may leave. And don’t think of coming back tomorrow because I will have another healer replace you. One that is more quiet.”

The room felt suffocating.

Her ears rang.

She just sat there, frozen, her eyes locked on his face as the words—every single one of them—settled deep into her bones, into the very marrow of her being.

Useless babbling.

Do you ever shut up?

It was like someone had taken a knife and sliced straight through her, splitting her open for the world to see.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, gaping at him like an idiot.

Her throat was so tight it physically hurt.

Then—she forced herself to move.

Forced herself to swallow down the burning sting in her chest, to keep her face as neutral as possible even though her heart felt like it had just been crushed.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, smoothing out her skirts as she bowed her head deeply.

“I… I’m sorry, my lord,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She bowed lower.

“It was an honor serving you.”

And then, before she could completely break, she turned and darted out of the room.

She didn’t stop walking.

Didn’t let herself think.

Her vision blurred at the edges, but she refused to let the tears fall.

Not here.

Not now.

Gods, do you ever shut up?

She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth.

And finally, when she was alone—when there was no one around to see—

She let herself break.

The new healer arrived promptly the next morning. Kallias did not bother to glance at her, merely gave a curt nod as she set down her supplies and began tending to his wound.

It was silent.

For the first time in over a month, the room held nothing but the distant crackling of the fire and the occasional sound of bandages being unwrapped. No rambling. No unnecessary commentary. No her.

Kallias exhaled slowly. This is better.

The healer finished and stepped back. “Your recovery is progressing well, my Lord. I will return at the same time tomorrow.”

He gave a dismissive nod, watching her leave.

The door clicked shut. The silence stretched on.

This is what I wanted.

He told himself that again.

Then again.

Then again.

And yet, as he sat there, the silence pressed in—thicker, heavier than it should have been.

It started with the small things.

Passing by the dining hall and hearing a burst of laughter—one that wasn’t hers. It was softer, quieter. Not the kind that filled a space effortlessly, not the kind that made his head snap up in exasperation and… something else he didn’t want to name.

Sitting in his study, book in hand, expecting an interruption that never came. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. He turned a page but read nothing. His eyes kept flicking to the door, as if expecting her to come waltzing in with some nonsense observation or another pointless story.

She never did.

The snowstorm outside raged on, swirling in thick flurries. He stared at it for a moment too long before catching himself.

She got home safely, he told himself. She must have.

And yet—

He caught himself glancing toward the healer’s wing when passing through the halls, his steps slowing despite himself. The air was always still there. Orderly. Lacking the warmth of an insufferable voice filling the space with chatter.

During court meetings, he almost—almost—looked toward the doors, expecting her to be lingering outside, waiting for his schedule to free up so she could tend to him.

But there was no one there.

And the unease settled in his chest like frost, refusing to thaw.

Five days passed. His wound was nearly healed.

The new healer was efficient, competent. There was nothing wrong with her work.

And yet—

Kallias tensed when she touched his arm, entirely too aware that it was the wrong hands. The wrong voice telling him his recovery was progressing well. The wrong presence in the room, one that did not fill the silence the way she had.

The healer worked quickly, adjusting the bandages with careful precision. He barely felt it. She was gentle—too gentle. Measured in a way that did not demand his attention, did not poke and prod at the edges of his patience with endless chatter.

He should have been grateful.

Instead, he clenched his jaw.

The healer hesitated slightly, sensing his stiffness. She withdrew her hands and stepped back, lowering her head.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” she said softly.

It was polite. Respectful. Exactly as a healer should address him.

But it wasn’t her.

The realization struck deeper than it should have. He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulder once as if testing the strength in it. Almost healed. Soon, there would be no need for a healer at all. No reason for anyone to linger in his chambers, filling the space with warmth and words he had never asked for.

For the first time since that night, the truth slithered into his mind like a sharp-edged blade.

I should not have sent her away.

Kallias moved through the days in a way that should have been normal. Should have been routine.

Except nothing felt normal.

Nothing felt right.

He told himself it was better this way. That the quiet was long overdue. That his chambers, his halls, his life had returned to the way they were meant to be—undisturbed, controlled, peaceful.

And yet—

When passing through the halls, his gaze flickered toward the healers' wing more often than he cared to admit. It was instinct, unconscious, a part of him still expecting—hoping—to see her. To catch a glimpse of her moving between rooms, head held high, determination set in her every step.

He did not linger. Would not. But the urge to was there.

During court meetings, when his mind drifted for even a second too long, his lips nearly shaped her name by mistake. He caught himself just in time, swallowing the slip before anyone noticed.

But he noticed.

The weight of it settled in his chest, unwelcome and unrelenting.

It was not just a passing thought. Not just a moment of fleeting habit.

He was thinking about her.

Too much.

Far too much.

And that was the most dangerous realization of all.

The ball was in full swing.

Laughter, conversation, and music wove through the grand hall, filling it with warmth and life. Goblets clinked, skirts swayed, gloved hands brushed in elegant passes across the dance floor. It was a celebration, a night of indulgence and revelry.

Kallias barely heard any of it.

His eyes drifted—automatically—to the corner where the healers usually stood on standby, their presence a mere formality.

She was not there.

She should not have been there. There was no reason for her to be present. And yet, something in him had expected her, had searched for her, had been waiting to catch a glimpse of silver and frost.

His jaw clenched as he forced his gaze away. It does not matter.

He did not care.

But when a noblewoman approached, hand brushing his arm in polite greeting, he nearly flinched. The light, easy conversation around him faded to a distant hum, drowned out by the weight settling in his chest.

When someone spoke to him, he did not hear them.

When a toast was raised, he did not lift his goblet.

And when he caught himself looking toward that corner again, some stubborn, unwelcome part of him refused to let go of the hollow absence he found there.

The music swelled, laughter rang out, and yet—

With quiet, shattering finality, the truth settled in.

He had made a mistake.

A grave one.

And now, he did not know if it was one he could ever undo.

Kallias did not look for her.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

Yet, somehow, his feet carried him toward the healers' wing more often than before. A habit, he reasoned. He had spent a month there—of course, it made sense that his body still followed the familiar route.

And yet, every time he passed by, he felt it. The wrongness.

The quiet was different now. Not the comforting kind, but the hollow, lacking kind. He found himself listening, waiting—for what, he did not allow himself to answer. But the realization always came in the same, bitter way: she was not there.

He should not have cared.

And yet, one day, he caught a conversation between two healers in the hall.

"She’s been taking on extra shifts in the lower wing."

"I heard she even requested to transfer out of the palace soon."

The words nearly made him stop in his tracks. Leaving the palace? The thought sent an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation curling through his chest.

But he forced himself forward, forced himself not to react.

She was free to do as she pleased. He had dismissed her. Pushed her away. He had wanted peace, had wanted her endless talking to stop, and now he had exactly that.

So why did it feel like he had carved something out of himself in the process?

The court had begun to notice.

Kallias was sharper these days. Impatient. The weight of his words heavier, his glares colder. The council meetings, the daily court affairs—none of it held his focus the way it should have.

The worst part?

It had been days since he had last spoken to her, and yet she was everywhere.

A joke someone made at a meeting—something ridiculous, something lighthearted. He had almost glanced toward where she should have been, where she would have been grinning at him with that look in her eyes, waiting for his reaction.

She was not there.

She would never be there again.

When the letter arrived, Y/N almost didn’t open it.

A small, plain envelope had been slipped beneath her door, its presence silent but insistent.

She stared at it for a moment, unease curling in her stomach. No messenger had knocked. No one had called for her directly. Just this—this single piece of parchment, waiting for her to acknowledge it.

Slowly, she picked it up, feeling the weight of it in her hands before breaking the seal.

The message inside was brief, written in a careful, deliberate hand.

Your expertise is needed in the royal gardens. Do not delay.

No name. No explanation.

Y/N frowned. Healers were rarely summoned without specifics. If someone had been injured, there would have been details—a location, a name, something.

And the gardens? At this hour?

It made no sense.

Her first instinct was to ignore it. To toss the letter aside and stay where she was, safe within the walls of the healers’ quarters.

But—

What if it was real?

What if someone did need her?

The doubt, the nagging uncertainty, was enough to push her into action.

So, she wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders, braced herself against the cold, and stepped into the night.

The gardens were empty.

Silent. Still.

A frown pulled at her lips as she stepped further in, glancing around for any sign of movement. No one was here. No patient. No suffering figure waiting for aid.

She exhaled sharply.

This was a mistake.

She turned on her heel, ready to leave—

"Wait."

The voice—deep, familiar, unmistakable—halted her steps.

Her breath caught. She did not turn around.

A part of her screamed to flee, to walk away, to pretend she had never come here in the first place. But her feet remained rooted to the ground, her hands clenching into fists.

She knew that voice.

And she hated that she still recognized it so easily.

"Please."

Not an order. A request.

She swallowed hard as she heard the quiet crunch of boots on gravel. Slow, measured steps.

He was moving—around her, toward her.

She could have walked away. Should have. But she didn’t.

And then—

His chest was right in front of her.

Her eyes stayed fixed on his tunic, on the rise and fall of his breathing. She did not dare look up.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Then—

"I regret it."

The words were rough, like they had been torn from him unwillingly. As if they hurt to say.

She said nothing.

"I was cruel," he continued, voice tight. "I—" A sharp exhale. "I should not have spoken to you that way. I should not have sent you away."

Still, she did not speak.

He shifted, uneasy. Kallias, the untouchable. The untouchable, now desperate for words.

"I am not—", he hesitated, his voice quieter now. "I am not accustomed to...to this."

She finally looked up.

His eyes—icy blue, usually so cold, so distant—held something else now. Something raw, something unguarded.

She could forgive him. Right now, she could let it go. She could tell him it was alright, that she would return, that all was well—

But it would be a lie.

A bitter, burning rage stirred in her chest.

"No."

One word. Sharp, final.

Kallias’s brows pulled together, as if he had not expected the rejection.

Good.

"No?" His voice was measured, but she could see the tension in his jaw.

She stepped back, just enough to breathe.

"Do you even understand?" she demanded, voice trembling with frustration. "Do you understand what you did to me?"

His expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing.

So she let the words spill out.

"You humiliated me. You made me feel—like I was nothing. Like I was annoying, like I was some burden that you just had to tolerate." She shook her head. "I served you. I cared for you. And you threw me aside like I was disposable."

Silence.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t excuse himself.

Instead, after a long, agonizing pause, he said—

"I know."

She faltered.

"I know," he repeated, his voice quieter now. "And I am...trying." He exhaled. "Tell me what I must do to make this right."

She studied him carefully.

He was genuine. Perhaps clumsy in his attempt, hesitant in his words, but genuine.

Still—

"I want actions, my Lord."

He stiffened slightly at the title.

"Not words."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Kallias."

She blinked.

"What?"

"Call me Kallias."

His voice was quiet, almost pleading.

Hesitantly, barely above a whisper—

"Kallias."

His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, as if he was reliving something.

But she did not let him sink into it for long.

Her voice cut through the night, sharp and cold.

"I want you to prove your sincerity to me, Kallias."

His eyes snapped open.

"Only then may I consider forgiving you."

And before he could say another word, she turned sharply on her heel, moving to leave—

Only to pause at the last second.

She spun back around, meeting his gaze with one last piercing look.

"Oh." She tilted her head. "You only have two weeks."

His lips parted slightly.

"I will be leaving after that."

And before he could argue, before he could try to stop her, she disappeared into the night, leaving Kallias alone in the garden, the weight of her ultimatum pressing down on him like an unforgiving storm.

Kallias did not seek her out again the next day. Or the day after.

But something had shifted.

At first, it was subtle.

When Y/N entered the healers' ward one morning, she nearly tripped over a stack of wooden crates lined neatly by the entrance. Frowning, she crouched down, fingers trailing over the stamped sigil on the side. The insignia of the Winter Court’s official supply chains.

Inside, she found expensive salves imported from distant courts, fresh linens, new sets of surgical tools wrapped in pristine cloth. Even additional firewood to warm the rooms as the cold deepened.

Her fingers curled over the edge of one of the crates.

They had needed these supplies for months. Had been told there were delays, that their requests were lower priority than the military or the palace.

Yet now, all at once, they had everything they had asked for.

Y/N’s eyes darkened.

This was not a coincidence.

She turned sharply, scanning the ward, looking for the head healer. “Who brought these?”

The older healer glanced up from her records, expression tired but pleased. “An order came from the palace. Directly from the High Lord himself.”

Y/N’s chest went tight.

She said nothing as she turned back toward the crates.

This was not an apology. This was not a request for forgiveness.

This was something else entirely.

The second time, she saw it.

She had been passing through the main halls of the ward when a flicker of white caught her eye beyond the archway leading into one of the recovery rooms.

She stopped.

Through the partially open door, Kallias stood before the head healer.

And he was listening.

Not speaking, not giving orders, not ensuring his presence dominated the space.

But listening.

His arms were crossed, posture rigid as always, but his brows were furrowed in concentration as the head healer spoke. Her words were quiet but firm, explaining in detail what the ward required—not only in supplies but in structure. How they needed more hands, how the new allocation of funds should be distributed, how the growing needs of the people could not be ignored.

Kallias did not interrupt. He did not challenge her. He simply nodded once, asked something in return, and listened again.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

This was not for her.

This was not a calculated move meant to draw her back in.

She swallowed hard and turned away before she could hear more.

Then, that night—

It was late. Too late for anyone to be awake.

Y/N had been tending to a restless patient, checking their fever one last time before slipping out of the ward’s main rooms. The halls were quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of faelights.

But then—

A voice. Low and quiet, nearly swallowed by the silence.

“… I was cruel to her.”

Y/N froze mid-step.

It was Kallias.

She pressed herself against the wall just beyond the archway.

“She did not deserve it,” he continued, his voice wrong somehow—too raw, too open. “And I do not know if I can fix it.”

A pause. A long, heavy pause.

Then, another voice—low and steady, belonging to one of his closest advisors. “You wounded her deeply, my lord. That will not be undone with gestures alone.”

A sharp inhale. “I know.”

Something in his tone made Y/N’s stomach tighten.

The advisor exhaled slowly. “Then what is it that you want?”

A longer silence.

And then, so softly she barely heard it—

“… I want her to stay.”

Y/N gripped the fabric of her sleeve.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, breath coming a little too fast.

She did not stay to hear more.

She turned and left, barely aware of her own steps.

Because for the first time, a sliver of doubt crept into her anger.

Maybe, just maybe… he truly meant it.

The knock was soft but firm, barely audible over the crackling of the fire in the corner.

Y/N frowned, setting down the bandages she had been carefully sorting. It was late—too late for anyone to be delivering messages.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, revealing a young servant girl clutching a bundle of parchment to her chest. She hesitated in the doorway, cheeks pink from the cold. “These are for you, healer.”

Y/N wiped her hands on her apron before taking the pages. “Who sent them?”

The girl only dipped her head. “I don’t know, my lady. I was just told to bring them to you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly but nodded in dismissal. The girl quickly turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Silence settled over the room once more as Y/N sat at the small wooden table, smoothing out the stack of documents.

Her gaze flicked over the first page—and then she went very still.

It was a funding request. Her funding request.

One she had sent months ago, listing all the resources the healers' ward desperately needed—better equipment, fresh linens, a steady supply of medicine for the winter months.

Her fingers tightened around the parchment.

She flipped to the next page. Another request—approved. Then another. And another.

She inhaled sharply, flipping through the entire bundle with growing urgency.

Every single one of them.

Approved.

Stamped with the official Winter Court seal.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how these things worked. Approvals took months, often years. The process was slow, tedious. But this—this had been done overnight.

A pit formed in her stomach.

And then, at the bottom of the last document, she saw it.

A single note.

Elegant, precise handwriting.

You will have everything you need.

No signature.

None was needed.

She knew who had done this.

Knew exactly whose hand had made this happen.

Kallias.

Y/N set the parchment down carefully, staring at it for a long, long moment.

She should have felt relieved. She did feel relieved. This was everything she had fought for, everything she had begged the court to consider.

And yet—

Her fingers curled into a fist.

Because this wasn’t just a gesture. It wasn’t just aid.

It was him.

Trying.

Fixing things.

For her.

She exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her temple.

This was not what she had expected.

Not what she had wanted.

Because now—

Now she had to ask herself a dangerous question.

Was she still angry at him?

Or was she just afraid to let go of the anger?

She should have ignored it.

Should have ignored him.

But when she entered the ward that evening, she saw him.

Kallias stood at the far end of the room, speaking to a young healer. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture as regal and composed as ever—but he was listening.

He was learning.

For a long moment, she just… watched.

Then, before she could stop herself, she turned and walked in his direction.

Their eyes met.

The conversation around them faded.

His lips parted slightly, as if about to speak.

She did not let him.

Instead, she brushed past him, deliberately distant, and kept walking.

But something in his gaze, in the way he looked at her, stuck with her long after she was gone.

She found a small package by her bedside that morning.

Inside—

A pair of gloves.

Finely made, lined with soft fur, enchanted to keep her hands warm even in the coldest temperatures.

She swallowed hard.

She should not accept it.

And yet, later that evening, when she stepped outside into the snow, she wore them.

She returned to her chambers late that evening, exhausted.

And nearly tripped over another package.

This time, it was books.

Her breath caught as she picked up the first one, fingers running over the leather binding. Medical texts. Some of them rare, some of them from distant courts. Books she had wanted, but could never afford.

She exhaled sharply, gripping the book tighter.

She should not have opened them.

Should have ignored them entirely.

But that night, she sat by the fire, book in hand, and read until the candles burned low.

The palace gardens were covered in frost when she passed through them, heading toward the ward.

And then—

A presence behind her.

She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

He didn’t speak at first. Just walked beside her, their steps crunching against the frozen ground.

Finally, after a long silence—

“You wore the gloves.”

Her fingers twitched.

She exhaled slowly, watching her breath curl in the cold air.

Then, quietly—“Yes.”

He didn’t say anything more.

But for the first time in weeks, they walked side by side, no longer strangers.

Y/N had been walking through the palace gardens, checking on some of the herbs they had been growing for future treatments. A gust of wind chilled her, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her, turning to head back inside.

The sky had darkened ominously as thick clouds rolled in. Within moments, the wind had escalated into something more furious, rattling the palace windows and sending the trees into a wild dance. The storm was coming.

As Y/N approached the palace entrance, ready to make her way back to the healers’ ward, a sudden calm washed over her. The wind stopped. The heavy air, so oppressive moments ago, suddenly felt lighter. The storm outside, now loud and angry, remained locked in the distance as if the walls of the palace itself were holding it back.

Her footsteps slowed as she glanced around in confusion. She felt… strange. Like something was different.

A deep, familiar voice broke the silence, and she turned.

Kallias stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back. The corner of his mouth twitched, just barely a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes fully. His gaze held a quiet intensity.

“You... you stopped it?” Y/N asked, blinking.

“The storm? Yes,” Kallias replied, stepping closer. “It seemed fitting. You should not have to endure the chaos of the world when you are already fighting your own battles.”

Y/N glanced around. The stillness was almost eerie, the absence of wind and thunder filling the space between them.

“You—this is… too much, Kallias.” Her voice faltered, unsure of what to make of the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, but the weight of it hung in the air. “I just wanted to give you peace. To show you that you don’t always have to face the storm alone.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice, but she said nothing more, lost in the quiet beauty of the moment.

The storm raged outside, but here, in this small, still bubble, there was only calm.

Y/N had spent her evening sorting through medicinal herbs when a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She opened it to find a small basket of flowers waiting on the doorstep, along with a note.

I thought you might like something fresh.

The handwriting was unmistakable. Kallias.

Curious, Y/N made her way to the designated location that evening, a part of the palace gardens she had never taken the time to visit before. She had always assumed it was just an old, neglected corner, left to decay.

As she approached the garden’s entrance, she felt something shift. The air felt warmer, and she noticed a soft, faint glow just beyond the archway. The entrance was framed with vines and wildflowers in full bloom, each one shining as if touched by magic.

She stepped inside, eyes wide in awe.

The space had transformed. Where there had been an overgrown, abandoned patch of earth, now there was a garden in full bloom. Trees heavy with fruit glistened under the moonlight, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze. Every flower seemed to dance in the cool night air. The place was alive, vibrant.

Y/N turned slowly, meeting Kallias’ gaze in the center of the garden. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his presence commanding yet gentle in this new, serene environment.

“You did all of this?” she asked, breathless.

“Not all of it,” Kallias replied with a quiet smile. “But I thought it might be a place you could call your own. A place where you can find peace, when the rest of the world is too much.”

Her eyes lingered on him. “Why? After all the damage…”

His smile faltered for a brief moment, but he held her gaze.

“Because I owe you that much. I owe you more than that.”

The space between them seemed to narrow, the moment stretching as he waited for her response.

“I—thank you,” she whispered, almost unable to speak at the beauty of it all, but more so at the sincerity behind his words.

Y/N had been on edge all day. The tension had been building in the air, the weight of the impending departure pressing on her chest. Each moment, every encounter with Kallias, had felt more and more charged with something she couldn’t place. She had tried to ignore it, but it was becoming harder.

When the note appeared—unsigned, as usual—her heart had skipped a beat.

Meet me at the edge of the northern terrace. There is something you must see.

She couldn’t ignore it. Not this time.

With a mix of reluctance and curiosity swirling in her chest, she donned her cloak, its fabric brushing softly against the stone floors as she made her way to the northern terrace. Her footsteps were steady, yet something inside her fluttered, as if she was walking toward a moment that could change everything.

When she reached the edge of the palace grounds, the familiar sight of Kallias waiting for her did not disappoint. He stood near the stone railing, facing the horizon, but something in the air felt different. A quiet intensity lingered, something almost tangible, weaving between them without a word spoken.

Y/N hesitated, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. “Kallias,” she said, her voice soft but steady, “You’ve… been waiting for me?”

He didn’t turn to her immediately. Instead, he stood there for a long moment, as though savoring the distance between them. And then, finally, he spoke.

“Always.” His voice was quiet, deeper than usual, a note of something almost raw underneath. “Always.”

She felt the air around her shift. Not just the cool evening breeze, but something else—something electric, something that had been building for days. But she didn’t know what it was, nor did she have time to think about it as she stood there, facing the man who had changed everything she thought she knew about forgiveness, about trust, about herself.

The moment stretched, and then, without warning, the ground beneath their feet trembled ever so slightly. Y/N looked up instinctively, her breath catching in her throat.

And then, the sky exploded.

The northern lights. They burst to life in the heavens above them, spreading across the canvas of the night with an intensity that took her breath away. The lights shimmered in vivid shades of green, violet, and gold, swirling and twirling like a dance, as though the stars themselves had come alive. The air around them hummed with magic.

But it wasn’t just the lights. The stars above, too, seemed to rearrange themselves, forming patterns she had never seen before—constellations that were new, foreign, like they were being painted just for her, just for this moment. The lights stretched farther, brighter, glowing in every direction, encircling them, filling the sky with a breathtaking display of color and light.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It was impossible. It felt as if the universe itself had shifted, bending and molding the world around her, all for this one instant.

And in that moment, Kallias finally turned to her. His face was bathed in the soft glow of the lights, but it was his eyes that caught her attention. His eyes, dark and stormy just days ago, now held something vulnerable—something sincere.

“I thought… if I could show you something beautiful,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper over the hum of the magic, “something just for you, you might understand that I’m trying.” His gaze softened. “I’m trying, Y/N.”

Y/N felt something inside her stir—a warmth, a flicker of hope, that she hadn’t felt in so long. Her chest tightened as she looked at him, the storm of conflicting emotions within her slowly beginning to settle.

“You don’t have to try so hard,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the air itself held its breath. “I—” She didn’t know what to say. How could she? He had given her the impossible—an entire sky lit up just for her.

“I do,” he said, stepping closer. “I do have to try. I have to make you see that I regret everything. All of it. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove that to you.”

His words hit her like a wave, and for a long moment, she couldn’t speak. The magic in the sky above them seemed to intensify, swirling faster, becoming more vivid as if responding to his words. The aurora painted the sky with such beauty that it was almost overwhelming, a brilliant tapestry that filled the night.

Y/N’s hand trembled as she reached out toward the sky, the shimmering colors reflected in her eyes. “How… how did you do this?”

His hand, almost without thinking, reached for hers. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing against hers like he was afraid to break the moment.

“I have my ways,” Kallias said with a small, self-deprecating smile. “But it’s nothing compared to the things I should have done for you.”

Y/N turned to him, and for the first time, she really looked at him. The man who had tried to push her away. The man who had hurt her. But also the man who was here, standing before her, now pouring all his regret and all his hope into this one gesture.

“You’ve done enough,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, as she took another step closer to him. “This… this is enough.”

He was so close now, she could feel his warmth, his presence enveloping her, the faintest trace of his breath on her cheek.

The night sky seemed to fade into the background, the northern lights themselves dimming just enough for them to focus on each other. And in the silence, with the magic of the world swirling around them, Kallias leaned in, just barely, his voice a hushed murmur.

“Y/N… I’m not asking you to forgive me. Not yet. But I want to earn it. I want to prove to you that I am worthy of your trust.”

For the first time, Y/N didn’t feel the need to pull away, didn’t feel the walls she had spent so long building. She was still scared, still uncertain of the future, but something inside her softened—something that had been hard and bitter for so long.

“I’m still not sure if I can forgive you,” she whispered, the vulnerability in her voice almost shocking. “But… I want to try.”

Kallias smiled then, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “That’s all I can ask for.”

And as the northern lights swirled around them, filling the sky with a breathtaking, magical glow, they stood there together—two souls caught in the same moment, a moment of tentative hope, of second chances.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was something worth believing in again.

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