#december from my knight set!! :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnyluvx · 1 month ago

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first kisses with overwatch characters! ♡

featuring: reinhardt, venture, mercy & brigitte x gn!reader. (all separate)

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

a/n: HI EVERYONE!! i have officially hit over 100 posts and thank you to everyone and anyone who has interacted with my content. thank you to my loved ones who have shown support through the time that i have had this blog, it truly means the world. happy holidays to all who are celebrating around this time of year, and have a good day if you're not!! enjoy some fluff!

date started: 4:15PM, december 12th, 2024.

date finished: 5:03PM. december 21st, 2024.

divider credit: hearts by @isisjupiter, support by @cafekitsune

wc: 2k | ao3

reinhardt ♡

the two of you have known each other for many years. you were in the crusaders together, and fought alongside one another for as long as you could remember. what used to be a crush turned into a deep-set yearning the more time passed by. you swear that no one you have never ached for someone the way that you ached for him, and he could say the same about you. the difference between the two of you is that he was always more vocal about his affections. you are the type of person who shows your love through actions instead of words, and while reinhardt has never hesitated to show you that he adores you, he was far more outspoken about it than you were. there were many times where he was boasting about how wonderful you are, the way that you would dote on him and just how lovely you are. you would get embarrassed and try to quiet him, which only made him laugh and become louder. you're a pair of adorable fools.

when reinhardt mentioned meeting his family for the first time, you were nervous. you knew that the lindholms were people that reinhardt adored, and that there were a lot of them, so you were very intimidated. you wanted to make a good impression and do right by reinhardt, but you had never let him down before. you were very quickly accepted into the lindholm family, and you came the love them just as much as reinhardt does. family is something that reinhardt holds close to his heart, so seeing you get along so well with everyone set into stone that you were the person that he wanted to be with.

it was the holiday season, and you were invited to spend it with the lindholms once again. the moon was lounging in the sky, the stars by its side when you and reinhardt were enacting a story for the children. of course, reinhardt was the knight come to save the day, and you were his royal in distress. you collaborated in narration with him while he battled pillows and stuffed animals, pretending that they were ferocious beasts that kept him from you. he fiercely defeated every enemy that blocked his path with a plastic sword, and when he finally reached you, you laid your hand over your heart and fell into his arms. he spun you around while holding you bridal style, laughter from all parties singing into the air. finally, the journey had come to an end, and the large man dipped you down and asked, "i don't suppose that you have a reward for me, your highness?"

you knew exactly what he meant, and you shook your head playfully at his antics. "but of course i do." you said, then turned to the children, "but should i?"

the tiny audience screeched for you to kiss him. you couldn't possibly deny them, so you leaned in and rewarded your diligent hero with a kiss. there was absolutely no hesitation from reinhardt, returning your gesture like it was the most natural thing in the world to him. his lips were dry, but he was ever so warm. the kids lost it and all began squealing and yelling excitedly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, strong arms pulling you closer to him as he slightly rose from the dip. you both agree that you would have loved to become official much sooner, but that moment was perfect. after all of the longing, there could be no moment more fitting for you to your devotion to each other.

venture ♡

i feel like venture gets really nervous when it comes to you. they don't find themself feeling so strongly about just anyone, so when they realized that they were developing feelings for you, they didn't really know what to do about it. you felt similarly, always tripping over your words when talking to them, laughing a little too hard at one of their jokes or taking note of every detail that you could retain about their interests. neither of you made any moves that were obvious to yourselves, but everyone around you was in agony.

venture's well-known way of showing affection to their loved ones is through pebbling. they'll find something that they think someone will like, and rush to give it to them. some of the overwatch team know this about venture and find it super endearing when they are on the receiving end of their gift-giving, but when they all noticed that you became venture's favorite person to gift to, they started to become suspicious. you returned their generosity by getting them any and everything that you could find that took to their interests, and they were always over the moon about it. they would brag to other members of overwatch about what you got them and talk for hours about it. neither of you are very subtle when it comes to your feelings, so they all figured out pretty quickly that the two of you were into each other and just never said anything.

you had been working on something for a long time, and when you finally finished it, you knew that you had to give it to venture as soon as humanly possible. you were hanging out in their room when you showed them a statue that you hand-carved of the two of you, and to say that venture was excited would be an understatement. they marveled at your creation, gently cradling it in their hands and admiring all of the little details that you added. they talked about the material that you used and gushed before setting the statue aside, opening their arms and blurting out, "I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD!!!!"

upon realizing what they said, the archaeologist slammed both of their hands over their mouth with wide eyes. they started rambling apologies and you were just as surprised, cheeks growing hot on your face. you tried to console them before taking their hands in your own and telling them, "i want you to kiss me."

surprise spreads across their face, though it's quickly replaced by excitement. their eyes sparkle and they smile widely before wrapping their arms around your neck and kissing you. their lips were soft, a little chapped but you didn't mind, and their kiss was ever so tender. you felt so lucky that of all people, you are the person that they feel safe with. and everyday, they thank their lucky stars that you stand at their side through every adventure.

mercy ♡

poetry has always been the best way that you express your feelings. before becoming official with mercy, you were always telling her that she was the most beautiful, loving, unique soul that you had ever met. not to say that you didn't show your affections through your actions too, as mercy is the type of person who doesn't just want to hear things, she wants you to show it. and you did. time and time again, you helped mercy clean up after a hard fought battle, went out for coffee with her and listened to her when she needed you to. you had proven to mercy that you were serious about your feelings for her, you just like to express it through words.

so, when you finally decided that you wanted to make things official with her, you wrote her a poem. you spent a long time working on it, revising and sometimes even starting something completely new. after everything that the two of you had been through together, and because of how important she is to you, you wanted it to be perfect.

the night that you read it to her, she was smitten. you had become one of the most important people in her life, and hearing you express your deepest, truest feelings to her solidified it in her head that you are the person she wanted. your performance was exquisite, albeit a little dramatic due to your theatric nature, but that's just one more thing that she loved about you. she applauded once you were finished and chuckled, standing before approaching you and holding your hands. "ever the charmer, you are." she muses lightheartedly.

you chuckled and placed a hand on her hip. "am i charming enough for a kiss?" you asked, partially teasing and really not at the same time.

the woman chuckles and taunts, "just charming enough."

her lips felt like magic as they connected to yours. both of your arms come around her to encase her in an embrace, pulling her close to your body as you return her affection. her hands rested on your chest and she gratefully kept against you. you hadn't become official sooner because mercy wanted to focus on her career in overwatch, but the closer that you grew, the more that you showed her that you will always have her back. you came to her when she needed you most, and she always did the same for you. she believes that with you by her side, the chances of ending this war are far greater than none.

brigitte ♡

i imagine that brigitte is the type of person who is very private about her love life, due to one of her interactions with tracer. tracer asks if she's seeing anyone, and brigitte says that she'll tell her later. with that being said, i think romance is a personal experience for her, so she doesn't talk too openly about it. therefore, when you began to grow romantically involved with brigitte, she told you that she didn't want it to be too public. you both agreed to only keep it to you and a few of your close loved ones, and you were alright with this arrangement. so long as brigitte is comfortable, you are too.

this was your dynamic for awhile. around others, all interactions you shared were purely platonic, but when you were alone, you were able to flirt, snuggle and leave lingering touches to your hearts content. it was difficult sometimes, but in the end, it was always worth it to have time with her later on. many nights that you spent together were just sitting around and talking. brigitte has always been an easy person to talk to, and when you are with her, you feel as though you could tell her anything without any judgement. nothing is better than a conversation with her.

it was one of those nights that you shared your first kiss with brigitte. you were talking about the way that your relationship has progressed, and how every day, your feelings for her grew stronger and stronger. she was looking at you like you were her everything, a crooked smile tilting onto her lips. in that moment, no one else existed in her world outside of the two of you. she listened to you talk about how much you adored her, a little pink coming to her cheeks. never has she felt so strongly about anyone, and never has she been so sure that she has wanted something the way that she wants you. while you were rambling, you weren't upfront with what you were trying to say, but you didn't have to. because brigitte knew how you felt. so, she cupped one side of your face and confessed, "i love you too."

you swore that you felt like you were flying the moment that your lips touched. her lips were soft and the pressure was gentle. her hand was warm and rough against your skin, yet cradled you so carefully. so much weight, tension and longing lifted from your shoulders when she finally made her move, and you weren't hesitant to return the gesture. you took her face in both hands and kissed her hard, and her hand came up to hold your face while her lips returned your roughness. you were both finally put out of your misery after so much time spent yearning for each other. you would make your relationship official that night, and slowly became more open about it to everyone in your lives. though, none of this came before brigitte smothered you in all of her kisses and affection.

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elliewiltarwyn · 1 month ago

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Then vs. Now

tagged by @ubejamjar, thank you <3

i'll pass it along to... @verysmallcyborg @idalenn @ahollowgrave @selnyam @sylaurin @sasslett

I think I had poked around at a couple of the settings before, but this was the first time I took a Proper Gpose, in March 2020.

Compared with tonight in December 2024:

...gods, where do I even start for the differences lol.

switched jobs, going from wanting to heal to bulking up and taking on martial jobs like dark knight, monk, and viper

like actually bulking up, her customize+ scaling looks so natural to me now that skinny peeled Ellie looks so off lol. it's not a huge difference but it's noticeable.

found out how to give her muscle, those arm dragon tattoos, an Archon mark, and arm/leg hair. the tattoos were a joke at first because it's year of the dragon and i'm a dragon in the chinese zodiac, but errrr oops i'm too used to them now. and they look sick.

her highlights changed to black (with a swerve into white for ShB), her facemark changed to match her hair color, and some of her face shapes were different, but she was always face 2 with this skintone and hair color. really nailed that right off the bat.

she was just my avatar in this online RPG back then. it'd take a year or two, probably after beating 5.3, when I'd start thinking about her as an actual character. And now I have an idea of how much she's grown, how much she's lost, what she's gained, how many women she's managed to smooch--

she's on tumblr now, which has also been a great way to meet so many cool wols and their amazing players and i'll forever be grateful for those opportunities and the friends i've made. <3

...if any of y'all ever want to play with ellie i've got mare files i can lend >.>

#tag games #my ocs: ellie wiltarwyn #ffxiv gpose #sometimes i think about how this game literally changed my life and how even when it gets dull gpose breathes new life into it #and i go “huh.”#idk it's the holidays/almost my birthday i'm in a weird Thinking About Stuff mood

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celestialtarot11 · 1 year ago

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Song Lyric Messages 🤍🌹💌

Hi friends! 💘🌹 I thought I’d switch it up a little and channel you some song lyrics! This can be any message you need to hear 💗🌟 enjoy, feel free to like, comment and reblog! I’m loving this red theme.

Pile 1:

• 🥀💌 “Feelings, so deep in my feelings. No, this ain’t really like me. Can’t control my anxiety. When I’m with you I can’t breathe. Boy, you do something to me. Ooh, I’ll never get over you until I find something new.” -Boo’d up by Ella Mai.

If you’ve been going through a breakup, separation or no contact situation, it’s been bothering you deeply. You may try to repress how you feel, but it keeps coming up, and your resistance could bring more harm than good. Your message is it’s okay to feel what you need to feel through the experience, anxiety will pass too. It’s okay to miss someone whether that was a friend too, it doesn’t necessarily need to be romantic here. Prioritize yourself, your experience, and journal about how it affected you. Give yourself a voice and watch yourself bloom 🌹🤍

💌 Some journal prompts 💌

• How did this experience affect me?

• How did I react to the experience?

• What is changing in my life and how do I feel about it?

Pile 2:

• 🥀💌 “You make me dance, bring me up, bring me down, play it sweet. Make me move like a freak, Mr. Saxobeat.” -Mr. Saxobeat By Alexandra Stan.

It’s a wonderful time for manifesting! Now, if you don’t know this song…😤 we’re gonna have some problems. But back to the main point, now is a wonderful time to manifest and celebrate! Either something new is coming into your life, or you’ve reached a point of self actualization that is setting you free. You feel so free, happy and excited. Maybe someone new is coming in, or has. Or you are manifesting someone. Here’s a wonderful sign whatever it is, is coming! Allow yourself to receive. If you’ve been pondering on what to manifest, here are some journal prompts:

💌 Some journal prompts 💌

• “Where does my heart want me to go next?”

• “If I could truly have everything I desired what would it be?”

• “What would happen if I manifested it? What would my life look like then?”

Pile 3:

• 🥀💌 “Just let my love, just let my love adorn you. Please baby, yeah. You gotta know, you gotta know. Know that I adore you. Yeah baby.” -Adorn by Miguel

This could be a message from a person directly! They want to tell you how much they adore you, and love you for who you are. They want to tell you how much they’ve been desiring to talk to you, and tell you how they feel deep down. I saw the knight of cups in my vision, so this person feels for you and wants to make a sweet advancement 🌟🥂 that is a card or courtship! If not a person, your inner child wants to let you know they adore you for all you do, and they admire your resilience, strength and ability to love. That’s all they ever wanted, and you giving them that is something they truly appreciate.

💌 Some extra messages 💌

• December may be important.

• They are ready to listen.

• Progress is being made.

Pile 2:

• 🥀💌 “Baby while we’re young. I think we should do something crazy. Like say fuck everyone, and just run away from the daily routine. Yeah, you know what I mean.” -While We’re Young by Jhené Aiko.

It’s important to spend your time focusing on the present moment. Your inner child wants to feel free, happy, and passionate about where they are going next. Take a leap of faith, let life play out as it’s meant to. You are meant to be here now. What would happen if you let it happen to you? Instead of forcing, pushing and moving, sit back and breathe. You may be missing out the more you take control. And maybe it’s time to observe, and let it be 🌟💖

💌 Some journal prompts 💌

• Where can I let go a little more today?

• What do I think will happen if I went with the flow?

• What message does my favorite self have for me?

Pile 5:

• 🥀💌 “That’s the way everyday goes. Every time we’ve no control. If the sky is pink and white, if the ground is black and yellow, it’s the same way you showed me. Nod my head, don’t close my eyes.” -Pink + White by Frank Ocean.

Foster more security and stability in yourself. All is well, all is okay. The moment that exists now is for you. If you’ve been bored of your routine do something sporadic, different and spontaneous. You are seeing clearly, maybe there was a lot of truths you couldn’t face in the past, and now it’s helping you understand more. There are many layers to what we don’t see at first, when we peel it back, then we understand. It’s like you’ve reached a major point of understanding a situation, person or yourself. Or life in general. Its happening to realign you with where you’re meant to be 💗🧘‍♀️

💌 Some journal prompts 💌

• What am I seeing clearly that I didn’t before?

• Where can this perspective take me?

• Which perspective empowers me?

Pile 6:

• 🥀💌 “Baby you’re the baddest, baby you’re the baddest girl. Nobody else matters, nobody else matters girl.“ -Les by Childish Gambino.

Confidence and empowerment is your theme for December. It’s time to step up and realize your worth. If you’ve been working on yourself it’s to help you build your self esteem, and confidence in taking the next step. Create your own intentions, plant your own seed, let you have your own experience. There is enough space for you to begin now, move forward self assured and confident 💗🥂

💌 Some journal prompts 💌

• What area of my life do I want to focus on next?

• What is this area of life requiring of me?

• Where do I need to mature and develop better skills?

Paid Readings 🌹💖

Distance Energy Healing Services 🌙🌃

#devi post #astrology #astrology community #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick one #pick a card romance #astrology observations #astro posts #astrology notes #astro notes

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dirtyvulture · 11 months ago

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Dear Diary

*Set in the Darkest Knight AU*

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4459

Summary: Natasha embraces her new life as an X-Men.

AN: I'm back with a little one shot. :) Enjoy!

December 6, 2023

Dear Diary,

Is that an appropriate way to start one of these? I’ve never kept a diary or a journal before. But Marie gave me this cute little notebook and said writing stuff down helps clear her mind, so I don’t think there’s any harm in giving it a shot. They would never let us have something like this in the Red Room. Too much evidence lying around for someone to stumble upon. Should I put a lock on this? Y/N wouldn’t snoop around to read this, would she? Well, I guess if she is–leave my diary alone, you big dummy!

The professor said the Red Room soldiers and Widows are coming tomorrow. This is all my fault. I’ve put these good people and innocent children in danger. Earlier, we went to help the kids pack their bags and board the buses. I’m not sure if Y/N has any kids of her own (or ever did at all), but I can tell she really cares about them. Although she was not happy with some of the excessive luggage some of them were bringing. No one would tell me where they’re sending the kids, but I overheard Ororo mention something about a private resort they had to buy out.

I still don’t quite understand why these people are willing to sacrifice so much for me. I’m basically a stranger to them. I have nothing to give them in return if they ask. Maybe they’ll finally throw me out when they realize how worthless I am. That’s what I really deserve. Not these warm clothes, the home-cooked meals, and this roof over my head. And I definitely don’t deserve the kindness and care Y/N has shown me. I really like her, but I’m afraid she’ll leave me when she realizes how boring and inexperienced I am.

Oh, I think she’s coming out of the shower now. I’ll continue this later.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 15, 2023

Dear Diary,

It’s weird how life goes back to normal so fast here. The Red Room soldiers and Widows were here not even a week ago, tearing down doors and blasting out windows, and everything is already repaired and the students are back at it like nothing happened.

A lot of them are excited to go back to their homes and families for the holiday. But a lot of them will also be staying at the mansion, because their families won’t accept them or they just don’t have any home to go back to. The professor asked Y/N to help plan some holiday games so the kids staying don’t get too bored or lonely. She’s acting like it’s the dumbest assignment he’s ever given her, but I’ve seen her spending all her free time ordering presents and decorations (with the professor’s credit card, of course), so I know she takes it very seriously and the kids are going to love whatever she comes up with.

I’m really glad I get to spend Christmas here. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been able to celebrate it with people I love. I feel so welcomed here and no one looks at me like I’m any different, when I come from a past where there’s red all over my ledger. Sometimes I’m surprised anyone even lets me be around these kids alone, but some of them have powers that even make Y/N nervous, and I think they know they can trust me.

It’ll take some more time before I can be fully comfortable here, but it’s really starting to grow on me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 25, 2023

Natasha wakes up alone. She looks around the bedroom, in case you might be on the floor doing push-ups or in the bathroom showering, but the room is completely empty. Her heartbeat picks up as she jumps out of bed, afraid that you’ve left her, when she notices a note on the desk.

Downstairs making breakfast. Come join when you’re up - Y/N

She relaxes immediately, touched how you made sure to let her know in advance where you would be. She quickly washes up and puts on a robe, then hurries downstairs to a chaotic mess of torn gift wrapping, screaming children, and flashing new toys. She steps into the kitchen, where you are wearing a flowered apron and are threatening Marie with a spatula.

“Stop, those aren’t ready–Marie!” You swat at her hands as she swipes for a pancake.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Nat!” Marie says, moving your attention away from her as your girlfriend appears.

“Merry Christmas, Marie.” Natasha gives the girl a hug, not missing the folded pancake in her hand.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” you say next, waiting for her to come over. “I made a special plate for you. It’s over here so the kids don’t get into it.” You point to a foil-covered plate off to the side of the stove. Natasha goes to investigate, peeling back the foil to find the plate fully-loaded with two different types of pancakes, one next to a little container of jam and honey, and the other still steaming and garnished with flecks of green onion. There’s even a bowl of grainy buckwheat porridge. Her heart soars at the sight of her favorite native breakfast. With a delighted squeal, she throws herself into your arms.

“Thankyou thankyou thankyou,” she choruses, squeezing you tightly as you rub her back.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

At this point, you shoo everyone out of the kitchen to finish the preparations. Natasha joins Marie in the dining hall, helping set up the plates and silverware. She watches with great curiosity as Kitty tries getting Peter to step under the mistletoe she hung above the doorway, and then is distracted when Jean and Scott come down for breakfast.

“Y/N cooks Christmas breakfast for us every year,” Jean explains to Natasha. “The kids always look forward to it.”

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott yells into the kitchen. “Keep the walnuts away from my food, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Natasha hears you dismissively respond.

“Scott’s allergic,” Jean whispers to her. “Now there’s no proof how, but he ended up with a plateful of them last year and I almost had to take him to the hospital. Needless to say, it was an eventful Christmas.”

Natasha giggles to herself, already having a feeling she knows exactly how those walnuts got on Scott’s plate.

Everyone finds a seat at the table, the empty one next to Natasha reserved for you. You finally emerge from the kitchen, no longer in the flowered apron but one of your classic checkerboard flannels. You’re carrying an impressive tower of pancakes in one hand and a pan filled half and half with bacon and sausage in the other. The students break out in appreciation and applause as Bobby scoots aside some dishes to make room for the last trays.

“Don’t take more than you can finish,” you remind the kids, going around the table to sit next to Natasha and presenting her with her special plate. “And uh, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and all that other stuff.” You raise your apple cider in a toast and everyone follows your lead.

“Thanks for breakfast, Y/N,” Ororo says, clinking her glass to yours. The students erupt with more thanks before they start reaching for the food, passing around the mountainous plate of pancakes, scooping whole fried eggs onto each other’s plates.

“Thanks again, babe,” Natasha says, putting her hand on your thigh as she leans over to kiss you on the cheek.

“You should try it first before thanking me,” you tease, still not used to all the praise. You were just trying to be a good partner, and it was somewhat of a Christmas tradition for you to cook breakfast for all the students who stayed at the mansion over break. You didn’t mind it at all, in fact you really did enjoy spending time in the kitchen and it made you feel good to take care of others.

Natasha leaves her hand on your knee as she eats, and eventually you put your hand on top of hers comfortingly. Neither of you engage much in conversation as you eat and listen, happy with the company. Once all of the food has been finished, Ororo rounds up the students to help clean everything before they can continue opening presents.

Kitty gets you a Johnny Cash vinyl record. Marie and Bobby got you a variety pack of exotic flavors of jerky, including alligator, ostrich, and buffalo. Storm gives you and Natasha tickets to a weekend getaway at a Canadian resort. Jean and Scott also throw in a joint gift of a new set of winter bedsheets. You are very thankful for the presents and pile them neatly by your feet, when Natasha pulls out a box and puts it on your lap. Inside is a familiar-looking flannel shirt.

“It’s a brand new one,” Natasha says. “To replace all the ones I steal from your closet,” Natasha says.

“Thanks,” you say, putting your arm around her to pull her closer so you can kiss her cheek. “This one is from me.” You hand her a very small box.

Natasha opens it delicately and gasps when she sees what you’ve given her. It’s a wooden ring, carved a little roughly around the edges with little turquoise-colored gems pressed into the outside.

“Did you make this?” Natasha asks, running her finger over the gems.

“Uh, yeah.” You’re suddenly nervous that she doesn’t like it. Woodworking was not your finest hobby, despite your decades to fine-tune the skill, but you preferred to build vast structures and furniture. Tiny little pieces of jewelry were extremely difficult to handle, but hopefully it was worth the numerous cuts and splinters you gave yourself.

Natasha slips it on her right ring finger–a perfect fit. Maybe you needed to give yourself more credit for your handiwork.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, holding her hand up to admire the ring. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Natasha snuggles closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder while you sit back and watch everyone else finish opening their gifts.

***********************************************************************

The rest of the day is busy but productive. Natasha has never felt happier watching the students competitively decorate gingerbread houses, then go outside and play in the snow. You don’t join in anymore, preferring to watch from the side. You’re already wearing the flannel Natasha got for you and Natasha gazes at you adoringly from afar. Despite the differences the two of you had from time to time, she hasn’t loved another person the way she loves you. But sometimes she worries that you don’t feel the same way.

You still don’t talk very much, hardly opening up about your past the way Natasha has spilled about hers. Although you seem mostly content at the mansion, Natasha can tell you’re still adjusting to being around so many people. The life of solitude in the cabin in the woods had clearly been more your style, and she feels guilty for dragging you away from that. But as much as she would love to spend all day with you cozied up in a cabin you built with your own hands, it wasn’t a realistic option. Not with all the threats and dangers that could come her way.

Which is why it was so important to Natasha that the Red Room be dealt with, as soon as possible.

She didn’t like how dismissive you got every time she brought it up, but she understood why. You had found your domestic bliss and didn’t want to let it go anytime soon. She wasn’t going to blame you. But she wished you would actually listen to her instead of shutting her down all the time. She would figure out how to broach the topic with you eventually, but today was not that day.

After a quiet dinner, which is basically just warmed up leftovers from breakfast, Natasha finds you sitting by yourself on the couch in front of a dying fire. Most of the students had retired to their rooms, exhausted by the day’s festivities. Natasha sits next to you, leaning her shoulder against yours.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.” You offer her your hand and she clasps onto it, threading her fingers with yours. You smile when you see the wooden ring on her finger. It looks perfect on her. “Did you have fun today?” you ask.

“It was the best Christmas I ever had,” she replies. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

Natasha is tired, but there’s still one more thing she wants to do with you. She rests her hand on your thigh, subtly at first, then she slowly starts to stroke your leg, her fingers barely perceptible through your jeans. You ignore her and her movements become bolder, creeping towards the inside of your thigh now and squeezing it lightly.

“Can I help you with something?” you finally ask. Natasha has always been a little more shy when it comes to asking for intimacy with you. But you were patient with her and never pressured her, and that encouraged her to have the confidence to ask if you were in the mood–even if she didn’t always do it with words.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she says, leaning forward until her lips almost touch yours. “I still have one more present to give you.”

“Oh, do you now?” you ask, trying to kiss her but she pulls away.

“You have to come upstairs,” she repeats, offering you her hand as she stands up.

“All right, all right.” Your knees creak as you push off the couch, taking Natasha’s hand and following her upstairs. You can hear her heartbeat pounding with excitement or maybe that’s…yours? You hope everyone else has gone to sleep by now, otherwise they wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

Back in the privacy of the bedroom, you let Natasha lead you to the bed and you sit down on the edge with her climbing onto your lap.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hands locking around the back of your neck.

“Of course,” you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. Your arms circle her waist to hold her securely in place. Her breath fans over your face and her heartbeat pumps at an almost alarmingly quick rate.

“I want you,” she says, rocking her hips against your thighs. “I want you to take me.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, before she presses her lips roughly to yours, her fingers digging into your neck. Her arousal spikes and so does yours. You open your mouth when she licks your lips to deepen the kiss. She tastes like vanilla and cookies and you instinctively pull her closer to you, wanting to devour her until the morning.

Natasha grabs the collar of your flannel, pulling apart the top buttons and running her hands down your chest and abs. Your skin burns where she touches you and you nip lightly on her bottom lip when she rests her hands on the buckle of your belt.

“I want to taste you,” you pant, hoping your request doesn’t come across as too greedy. Natasha has to fight down her thrill of excitement at your suggestion, wondering how you knew exactly what she wanted. She doesn’t even take the time to agree with you, instead hurriedly stripping off her clothes to show you how eager she is. You take off the flannel, setting it aside with reverence, then removing your undershirt and jeans. Natasha tackles you back on the bed, your thigh fitting between her legs and you feel the heat from her center rubbing against you.

“You’re so wet for me,” you say, holding her hips again and guiding her up until she’s hovering over your chest. “My good girl.”

“Your good girl,” Natasha reiterates, grabbing onto the headboard for support before she positions herself over your face. The scent of her arousal is almost overwhelming to you, and you waste no time bringing your arms over her thighs to pull her down. Natasha whines when your mouth makes contact with her slick center, your tongue slipping into her and coating with her juices.

Natasha moans, grinding down so you can enter her deeper. Your arms tighten to prevent her from moving too much; you want to do things at your own pace. Her taste is so intoxicating and addictive, you could lie here forever eating her out. Natasha grips the headboard tighter, struggling to rock against your face for more friction, but you won’t let her. She whines in desperation, the noises music to your ears. Your tongue dips into her again before tracing up to her clit, flicking against it and Natasha grinds down harder on your chin, gasping and moaning.

“Y/N,” she begs. “Y/N, please.”

You stop, pulling away from her far enough to say, “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “I need you.”

“I know, baby. I got you.” As much as you love teasing her, this is not the time. You knew Natasha could sometimes be insecure about your relationship with her. But you had no regrets in choosing to be with her and loved her so much. You would never miss an opportunity to show her, either.

You loosen your arms around her so she has some freedom to move and Natasha quickly adjusts herself until she’s comfortable. When she settles back down on your face again, you find her clit and wrap your lips around it, rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan. Natasha rolls her hips to help you find a good rhythm. You feel her thighs tremble and more of her slick spills onto your tongue.

“Oh, god. Oh fuck, Y/N,” she whimpers, the headboard flexing dangerously from how hard she’s holding onto it.

Your stomach practically burns from how aroused you are with Natasha riding your face, and you’re hoping she’ll help you relieve some of the tension once you make her finish. You’ve held out as long as you could, and you can tell Natasha is ready to fall over the edge. Your tongue rests on her clit again, swiping upwards in a straight line, then dragging down at a diagonal angle, then going back up.

Your tongue moves in an inverted V next, drawing an imaginary bar between them.

You lick down her clit once more, then swipe perpendicular.

Natasha is panting and shaking, completely unaware that you’re trying to spell her name on her with your tongue. One of her hands has left the headboard and is holding tightly onto your hair in an attempt to guide you, but your own plan is already in action.

She doesn’t make it the next A, her back arching and thighs clamping around your head as she finally cums. You don’t let a drop of it go to waste, lapping at her sensitive folds until she’s whimpering and trying to pull your head away. Natasha lifts herself off your face with a contented sigh, turning herself away from the headboard now, but you’re not quite done with her yet.

You pull her back down on your face and she falls forward with her hands on your chest.

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” you grumble playfully.

“Y/N,” Natasha giggles.

“Can I have one more, darling?” you ask, and she responds by sitting back on your face. But now Natasha is the one with other ideas, as she eyes the veins on your flexing abdomen that disappear behind the band of your underwear. You feel her hands run across your stomach and your breath hitches when she tugs down your underwear.

“Nat, what are you–oh, shit.” Now it’s your turn to gasp and moan when Natasha leans over and places her mouth on your dripping center. You completely lose focus of what you were doing, instinctively spreading your legs open further to give her better access. “Fuck baby, oh fuck,” you whine, your head dropping back on the pillow.

“Did I say you could stop?” Natasha teases, turning your own words back against you. It takes a monumental effort, but you calm yourself enough to put your mouth to work again. Natasha almost soaks herself when she realizes how turned on you’ve gotten just from eating her out. Now she has only one mission in mind: make you cum before she does a second time. But you’re refusing to make it easy for her, and Natasha is already dangerously close despite having finished mere minutes ago. She knows she has to hurry, but judging from the tremble in your thighs, you’re closer than you’re letting on.

Natasha’s tongue circles your clit and she can feel you panting against her, your own efforts faltering in their rhythm. She pushes back against your face to remind you of what you promised her. Your fingers dig into the curve of her ass and you feel her breasts rubbing against your abs. Her mouth is so hot and wet and perfect on you, making you lose your breath every time her tongue touches you.

“Fuck, Nat,” you whimper, feeling like you’re losing control of yourself. You’re not even sure if what you’re doing to her anymore is working because all you can think about is the throbbing in your lower stomach that begs to be released. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue lashes at your clit and she struggles and fails to push down on your thighs to keep you grounded. “Nat, I can’t,” you warn, a little embarrassed at how fast you’re ready to release.

“It’s okay,” you hear Natasha say, “Cum for me, baby.”

White floods your vision and all the muscles in your body tighten as you spill into her mouth, a moan catching in your throat. Your head spins in a rush of endorphins and you’re practically convulsing underneath Natasha when you finally come down from your high. She purrs in delight at her success, gently squeezing at your thighs. And as much as you want to flip her around and press her head against your chest, you still do owe her.

Natasha’s second orgasm is a little more subdued but just as pleasurable. She bites the inside of your thigh to quiet the noise of her moan and you almost cum again. But once she finds the strength to move, Natasha crawls back up to you, nuzzling the side of your head and kissing you. Normally, you could go several rounds without even stopping for a break, but you’re unusually exhausted today. Maybe it was from waking up at four o’clock to work on breakfast for everyone or making sure that the Christmas activities throughout the day ran smoothly.

Natasha rests her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and you rub her shoulder, tilting your head down to breathe in the faded scent of her shampoo.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispers.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

***********************************************************************

January 2, 2024

Dear Diary,

Professor Xavier called me personally to his office today. I was really nervous that I was in trouble for something. I’m still not sure how I feel about his mind-reading thing. I try to keep my thoughts in check when he’s around, but I think that makes it seem like I’m hiding something. But other than that, he’s only ever been polite and respectful to me, and I can tell Y/N really looks up to him as a mentor and father figure.

He told me he has a lead on where the Red Room could be and asked if I still want to pursue them. Of course I do, but I know Y/N isn’t happy about it. I thought she would understand more. I know she’s got her own past that she hasn’t told me the entirety of yet (not that she’s required to), but she’s told a few stories so I know her situation is similar enough to mine. I wish she was more supportive instead of trying to talk me out of it, but I know she’s worried too. She doesn’t want me rushing back into danger and I totally get that. But I just…I can’t stay here and be cared for and protected and loved when there are so many of my sisters still being held against their will and forced into doing horrible things.

Luckily, the professor seems more understanding of things. But I don’t want him or anyone else here risking their lives for me. If I have to go alone, I will. I don’t know if I can do it alone, though. I’m sure Y/N will insist on tagging along no matter what. I just hope she doesn’t get too grumpy about the whole thing.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

January 4, 2024

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t told Y/N what the professor told me 2 days ago (assuming she hasn’t already gone through my diary and read about it here). I tried to mention it after dinner, but I could tell as soon as I let the “R” word slip she was not paying attention to the conversation anymore. I don’t want my frustration to build up, so I’ll probably have to be straightforward about it, which isn’t easy.

I know the professor can hear all of my thoughts, so I wonder if he’s going to get tired of them and just talk to Y/N himself. But probably not. This is my problem to handle. I’ll find the courage somehow to deal with it.

I just hope it doesn’t cause Y/N to look down on me for this. I’m already nervous that I’m constantly annoying her, and if she gets fed up enough and kicks me out I will literally have nowhere to go and at that point, I’d welcome back the Red Room with open arms. That probably seems a little dramatic, but I really don’t want to risk losing the best person that ever came into my life. I have Y/N to thank for everything I have here, and I think most people in my position would call me crazy for trying to make any changes to my situation.

But I’m not like most people. And I have to do what I think is right, even if others try to stop me.

I’ll bring it up to Y/N later again. Maybe if I catch her in a good mood she’ll be more receptive to the idea. Wishing luck to my future self.

Love,

Nat

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AN: Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

Multipart sequel in the works!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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zeldaelmo · 1 month ago

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I wrote a lot of Christmas and winter-themed stories over the past few years, so I thought I'd make a list for everyone who wants to get in the mood or just needs something to read during the holidays.

Modern AU

Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast, Love - As a regular in Link's bakery, Zelda asks him for a favor for Hylia's day. A mistake leads to them fake-dating until at the end of the holidays neither of them knows what is fake and what is real anymore. (25 chapters)

One Stitch at a Time - Zelda is taking over the fabric store from her mother and struggles to balance traditions, new ideas, and financial problems. The last thing she needs in her sewing class is a guy who disagrees with her every word and threatens to ruin her favorite time of the year: Christmas. (24 chapters)

A Rare Find - Link tries to catch a rare Korok that only appears when it rains. He finds a cute girl instead who happens to be in need of a fake boyfriend to impress her ex.

The Thing with the Matching Christmas Sweaters - Zelda realizes at the last minute that her father bought the same Christmas sweater that she and Link have planned to wear on their engagement announcing pictures. Link... has his own solution to this problem.

link_inofficial_23 - Link keeps blogging about Princess Zelda's and his life as new parents. PR is not amused.

One Night in December - Link regrets all his life decisions when he agrees to watching Hallmark movies with his long-term crush Zelda and she picks one about old friends getting together. Of all things...

Believe - A down on his luck Link accidentally prays to a long forgotten goddess and sets things in motion he isn't prepared for.

AoC/BotW

The Art of Now - A little AU where Link really is just a random soldier like at the beginning of Age of Calamity.

Of Pines and Pining - Zelda is forced to join the Champions and Sheikah to decorate the Great Hall for Hylia's Day. Of course, Link does it all wrong: chaotic and messy. But then, Zelda gets carried away and accuses him of being a messy kisser and everything only gets even more chaotic from there.

Sneaky Snow Attack - Link is on guard duty for once and discovers an intruder he doesn't mind so much. Well, before the snowball hit him, obviously.

Dismissed - Just before his first home leave after the Calamity, Link learns that Zelda has dismissed him as her appointed knight for personal reasons. He's confused and sad and the very last thing he needs is his family getting on his nerves about it.

Twilight Princess

Close Enough - The one mistletoe story without a single mistletoe around.

Fairy Magic - Zelda overworks herself before Christmas and Link decides she needs a break.

Ocarina of Time

It may be winter outside (but in my heart it's spring) - Impa sneaks Link and Zelda out to have some fun in the snow. A winterly snapshot set in the child timeline.

General LoZ AU

The Pen Pal Plan - Princess Zelda is sick of being wooed for her beauty and nothing else, so when it's time to pick a suitor, she develops a plan. All suitors who want to court her must engage in a pen pal ship with her so that they can get to know each other without the eyes of the court on them.

After a year, the time has come to meet the most promising candidates at the winter fair and make her choice, but she quickly realizes, that her "Pen Pal Plan" has some pitfalls she hasn't anticipated and chaos ensues. It would be a shame if she missed the meeting with her favorite candidate of all things! At least the kind, blue-eyed guard is still there to help her reach the last date in time...

Merry Christmas and enjoy!

💞 Zelmo

#zelink #hylink #Christmas #Christmas stories #zeldaelmo writes #legend of zelda

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camisoledadparis · 1 month ago

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 24

1305 – France: Grand Master Jacques de Molay and over 500 Knights Templar recant their confessions of homosexual activities to which they had admitted under torture. King Phillip IV burned 54 of them soon after the false confessions. Philip had de Molay burned upon a scaffold on an island in the River Seine in front of Notre Dame de Paris in March, 1314. The sudden end of both the centuries-old order of Templars and the dramatic execution of its last leader turned Molay into a legendary figure.

1573 – French diplomat and law professor Hubert Languet wrote to Sir Philip Sidney, "My affection for you has entered my heart far more deeply than I have ever felt for anyone else, and it has so wholly taken possession there that it tries to rule alone."

Sir Philip Sidney

1905 – Howard Hughes Jr. (d.1976) was a USA business magnate, investor, record-setting pilot, engineer, film director, and philanthropist, known during his lifetime as one of the most influential and financially successful individuals in the world. He first became prominent as a film producer, and then as an important figure in the aviation industry.

Later in life, he became known for his eccentric behavior and reclusive lifestyle—oddities that were caused in part by his worsening obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), chronic pain from a near-fatal plane crash, and increasing deafness.

Hughes dated many famous women, including Joan Crawford, Billie Dove, Faith Domergue, Bette Davis, Yvonne De Carlo, Ava Gardner, Olivia de Havilland, Katharine Hepburn, Hedy Lamarr, Ginger Rogers, Janet Leigh, Pat Sheehan, Mamie Van Doren and Gene Tierney. He also proposed to Joan Fontaine several times.However, a rumour persists that Hughes and another notorious womanizer Errol Flynn had a sexual relationship, with Flynn at the top man!

1912 – A report issued by Utah's State Board of Insanity recommends sterilization of persons convicted of sexual crimes.

Robert Joffrey (rear) with Gerald Arpino

1930 – Robert Joffrey, born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan, (d.1988) was an American dancer, teacher, producer, choreographer, and co-founder of the Joffrey Ballet, known for his highly imaginative modern ballets. He was born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan in Seattle, Washington to an Afghan father and Italian mother.

As a teenager, Joffrey met 22-year-old Gerald Arpino, then serving in the Coast Guard. Arpino moved into the Joffrey home. From then on, the two were inseparable. They became best friends, artistic collaborators, and lovers.

Joffrey studied ballet and modern dance in New York City and made his debut in 1949 with the French choreographer Roland Petit and his Ballet de l'Opéra National de Paris. From 1950 to 1955, he taught at the New York High School for the Performing Arts, where he staged his earliest ballets. He founded the Joffrey Ballet School in New York City in 1954.

In 1954 he formed his own company, which premiered Le bal masqué (The Masked Ball, 1954; music by French composer Francis Poulenc) and Pierrot Lunaire (1955; music by Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg). Joffrey's other works include Gamelan (1962) and Astarte (1967), which was set to rock music with special lighting and motion-picture effects.

The Robert Joffrey Ballet took up residence at New York City Center in 1966. In 1982 it moved its principal activities to Los Angeles, California and in 1995 to Chicago, Illinois. Noted for its experimental repertoire, the company was called the "Joffrey Ballet of Chicago" after its move but has since returned to being called simply the Joffrey Ballet. Besides Joffrey's works its repertoire includes many works by Gerald Arpino, Joffrey's long-time lover, co-director, and eventually artistic director emeritus until his 2008 death, and ballets commissioned by Joffrey from new choreographers as well as works by such established choreographers as George Balanchine, Alvin Ailey and Twyla Tharp.

Joffrey was sexually promiscuous but discreet. His pattern was to have Arpino at home for domestic stability, one principal romantic attachment, and numerous one-night stands.

In 1973, Joffrey fell in love with A. Aladar Marberger, a 26-year-old gay activist and manager of the Fischbach Gallery in New York. In the 1980s, both men contracted AIDS. While Marberger was outspoken about his illness, Joffrey remained silent. He was ashamed and wanted his obituary to say that he died of liver disease and asthma. Arpino agreed to his pleas, but the secret could not be maintained, as AIDS took a staggering toll on the dance world in general and on Joffrey's company in particular.

Robert Joffrey died of AIDS on March 25, 1988 in New York City. Aladar Marberger died eight months later.

1952 – Kevin Killian is an American poet, author, editor, and playwright of primarily LGBT literature. My Vocabulary Did This to Me: The Collected Poetry of Jack Spicer, which he co-edited with Peter Gizzi, won the American Book Award for poetry in 2009. His novel, Impossible Princess, won the 2010 Lambda Literary Award as the best gay erotic fiction work of 2009.

Killian is also co-founder of the Poets Theater, an influential poetry, stage, and performance group based in San Francisco.

Kevin Killian was raised Roman Catholic and attended a Roman Catholic parochial school run by Franciscan monks where he suffered what he has described as "routine abuse". He discussed these experiences in an essay in the edited work Wrestling With the Angel, which describes the experiences of 21 gay men with religion. He was also the New York City spelling bee champion.

Kevin attended graduate school at the State University of New York at Stony Brook (SUNY-Stony Brook) in the 1970s, and moved to San Francisco in 1980. Although he is gay and Dodie Bellamy is a lesbian, the couple married and have an active heterosexual sex life.

Killian is also active in bringing attention to important LGBTQ artists and writers of the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s. He has held poetry readings of a wide number of influential poets and writers, and participated in a number of panels, art installations, retrospectives, and memorials.

1958 – Bob Smith (d.2018) was an American comedian and author. Smith, born in Buffalo, New York, was the first openly gay comedian to appear on The Tonight Show and the first openly gay comedian to have his own HBO half-hour comedy special. Smith, along with fellow comedians Jaffe Cohen and Danny McWilliams, formed the comedy troupe Funny Gay Males in 1988.

With Funny Gay Males, Smith is the co-author of Growing Up Gay: From Left Out to Coming Out (1995). Smith is also the author of two books of biographical essays. Openly Bob (1997) received a Lambda Literary Award for best humor book. Way to Go, Smith! (1999) was nominated for a 2000 Lambda Literary Award in the same category. Smith published his first novel, Selfish and Perverse, in 2007, and Remembrance of Things I Forgot in 2011. He published a new collection of essays, Treehab: Tales from My Natural Wild Life, in 2016. The essays cover a wide range of subjects including his career in stand-up, his love of nature, and his experience with ALS. He performed at the inaugural We're Funny That Way! comedy festival in 1997, and appeared in the festival's documentary film in 1998.

While taping a 2007 comedy special for Logo, Smith disclosed that he was suffering from a neurological disorder. He described his symptoms at that time as slurred speech, making him sound inebriated. In response to an August 2012 New York Times article on openly gay male stand-up comedians, Smith posted a comment stating he had ALS.

On February 2013, Smith gave a candid interview to Canada's Global News, where he elaborated about his condition. The article also revealed that Smith assisted with the conceiving of fellow LGBTQ comedian Elvira Kurt's children, who with Kurt reside in Canada, and that he was a direct descendant of Henry Smith, an early settler of Canada's Niagara Region for whom the Henry of Pelham Winery is named.

Bob Smith died on January 20, 2018 from Lou Gehrig’s Disease in his Manhattan, New York home at 59 years of age.

1971 – On this date the international singer and actor Ricky Martin was born. Born Enrique Martín Morales in San Juan, Puerto Rico, he is known to millions of fans by his stage name Ricky Martin, is a Puerto Rican pop singer and actor who achieved prominence, first as a member of the Latin boy band Menudo, then as a solo artist after 1991. During his career he has sold more than 60 million albums worldwide. He is the founder of Ricky Martín Foundation (in Spanish Fundación Ricky Martin) a non-profit charity organization.

Martin rose to fame as a member of the Latin American boy band Menudo, after which he became a solo artist in 1990. During forays into acting on Broadway ("Les Miserables") and soap operas (General Hospital) he released numerous albums of Spanish music, which sold millions of copies throughout Latin America and Europe. In 1995, Martin refocused on his music career through his third album, A Medio Vivir. With this album, Martin made a shift from formulaic hit ballads to a more risky fusion of music centered around traditional Latin sounds, with the hit "Maria", which epitomizes this new sound. "Maria" broke Martin into Europe through Spain. With the ballad "Te Extraño, Te Olvido, Te Amo", Martin began his expansion from Latin American and Spanish-speaking audiences to the European and Asian markets. He was chosen to sing the anthem of the 1998 FIFA World Cup, the famous hit "The Cup of Life"/"La Copa de la Vida", that reached number one on the charts in 60 countries.

He broke into the English-language market with his mega-selling hit single "Livin' la Vida Loca," which reached number one in many countries around the world, including the United States, the United Kingdom, Argentina, Australia, Brazil, France, Greece, India, Israel, Italy, Japan, Guatemala, Mexico, Russia, Turkey, and South Africa. He followed up with the hit "She's All I Ever Had" which peaked at #2 on The Billboard Hot 100. This album became one of the top-selling albums of 1999, and was certified 7 times platinum, selling over 22 million copies worldwide to date.

During the Livin' la Vida Loca era, Martin's personal life went under the microscope due to his large Gay following, and he was questioned about his sexual orientation. In December, 2000 during an interview in The Mirror, Martin was asked, '"So what about all these rumors?" "There's not a lot I can do about that," he said. "I guess these rumors were started by people who don't have a life, or perhaps it's because they want me to be like them and I'm not. I try not to pay attention to any of these allegations. I could have been married with kids for years or have 27 girlfriends, and if people still want to go around saying that I'm gay, they will."'

In August 2008, Martin became the father of twin boys, named Matteo and Valentino. The babies were delivered via gestational surrogacy.

On March of 2010, Martin publicly came out as Gay in a post on his official web site by stating, "Today is my day, this is my time, and this is my moment. These years in silence and reflection made me stronger and reminded me that acceptance has to come from within and that this kind of truth gives me the power to conquer emotions I didn't even know existed ... I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am."

"What will happen from now on? It doesn't matter. I can only focus on what's happening to me in this moment. The word 'happiness' takes on a new meaning for me as of today. It has been a very intense process. Every word that I write in this letter is born out of love, acceptance, detachment and real contentment. Writing this is a solid step towards my inner peace and vital part of my evolution."

In January 2018, Ricky Martin married his long-time partner artist Jwan Yosef.

Ricky and Jwan

1973 – Paul Foot is an English comedian. He commands a significant cult following called The Guild of Connoisseurs. Foot is known for his musings, rants, 'disturbances' and apparent aversion to pop culture. The Daily Express likened Foot to "a rare exotic bird", whilst six national newspapers including the The Independent and The Age have declared Paul to be "a comedy genius".

Foot was born and raised in High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, he studied mathematics at Merton College, Oxford.It was during his studies he first started performing stand-up. As of 2011 Foot has refused to discuss his years at Oxford or former pursuits as a mathematics student.

Graduating from Oxford in 1995, Foot was head-hunted by a computer software company in the run-up to the dot-com bubble, however he loathed the industry: "I had to read manuals on HTML and just write websites from scratch. None of us really knew what we were doing".

He started to pursue a career in comedy, doing open mic slots at various venues, in the hope that show business would allow him to meet his idol Ella Fitzgerald. Tragically Ella Fitzgerald died a few days after this decision was made, but Foot decided to stick with comedy as a career anyhow.

He is openly gay. Foot also has a much admired collection of pre-war Toby jugs, which he parades on a custom made milk float on his yearly trip to the Edinburgh Comedy Festival.

1981 – Chris Kluwe is a former American football punter and writer. Kluwe played at Los Alamitos High School in Los Alamitos, California, where he was a 1999 USA Today High School All-American, and then attended the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), where he played college football for the UCLA Bruins. He was signed by the Seattle Seahawks as an undrafted free agent in 2005 and played professionally in the National Football League for the Seattle Seahawks, Minnesota Vikings, and Oakland Raiders.

Kluwe is widely known for his eight seasons with the Minnesota Vikings, where he set eight individual team records. During this period, Kluwe became an outspoken advocate on social issues, including same sex marriage and gay rights, which ultimately led to tension between Kluwe and coaching staff.

Kluwe publicly released a letter on September 7, 2012, via sports website Deadspin he had sent to Maryland state assembly delegate Emmett Burns, defending the opinions of Baltimore Ravens linebacker Brendon Ayanbadejo and condemning Burns on his attempt to stifle Ayanbadejo's free speech. Ayanbadejo has been a vocal supporter of same-sex marriage and Burns had sent a letter requesting that the Ravens ownership "inhibit such expressions" by their employee. On October 1, 2012, Kluwe published a letter to the editor that responded to a video statement released by former Viking Matt Birk in supporting a ban on same-sex marriage. In the letter, Kluwe outlined six primary reasons why he disagreed with Birk's statement. Kluwe was also featured in a documentary called The Last Barrier which aired on NBC Bay Area on December 8, 2012. During this interview he spoke about his feelings towards equality.

Kluwe and Ayanbadejo filed an amicus brief to the United States Supreme Court on February 28, 2013, regarding Hollingsworth v. Perry, in which they expressed their support of the challenge to California Proposition 8. Kluwe appeared on the January 18, 2013, episode of The Ellen DeGeneres Show, to discuss his support of same-sex marriage. Ellen DeGeneres inducted Kluwe as the first inductee in her Hall of Fame, since NFL punters are unlikely to be voted into the league's hall of fame. On April 16, 2013, in recognition of his steadfast support of same-sex marriage and for starting a conversation about LGBT issues in athletics, Kluwe was named the Grand Marshal of the 41st annual Twin Cities Pride festival in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

On January 2, 2014, Kluwe alleged that he was released from the Vikings due to his support of same-sex marriage. He stated that the Vikings requested that he "deliberately sacrifice my own numbers to help the team, a request with which I always complied." The team stated it was not previously made aware of Kluwe's allegations, and countered that he "was released strictly based on his football performance." Kluwe said that special teams coach Mike Priefer in 2012 made homophobic remarks and criticized the player for his views on same-sex marriage. Priefer responded with a statement saying that "I do not tolerate discrimination of any type and am respectful of all individuals. I personally have gay family members who I love and support just as I do any family member.” Kluwe called the coach's acts "inexcusable", and hoped he prevented Priefer from ever coaching again. He also alleged that head coach Leslie Frazier told him to stop speaking out on same-sex marriage. Kluwe later said his comments on Priefer were "a little too harsh originally", and stated that he preferred that the coach get therapy and counseling and return to the league as a role model.

Kluwe was released by the Vikings after the 2012 season, signed with the Oakland Raiders prior to the 2013 season, and was subsequently released. Kluwe was unable to find another NFL team with which to sign and retired from professional football in 2013. Following his departure from football, he has pursued a writing career and is a humor columnist for the sports website Deadspin.

2012 – The Serbian Parliament approves changes to the Penal Code to include sexual orientation and gender identity as protected classes when it comes to hate crimes.

2013 – Alan Turing considered the father of computer science, was a code-breaker who helped shorten WWII. Since he was gay, the British government offered him the choice of prison or chemical castration after he was convicted of gross indecency. He selected hormonal castration via estrogen. He died in 1954 of cyanide poisoning. In 2009, Prime Minister Gordon Brown made an official apology, and Queen Elizabeth II issued Turing a royal pardon on this day in 2013.

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windmaedchen-oceanhorn · 28 days ago

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My Year of Art.❤️

JANUARY - Actually my last big piece for Oceanhorn. Depicted is Chronos, the god of time and space, about to give judgement...

FEBRUARY - ... judgement for this man: Mesmeroth. Here without the mask in a more modern setting. I aaaaaactually did this in Jan, too, but I have nothing for February .... T_T

MARCH - Due to the new job, I couldn't finish the illustrations for an Oceanhorn short story. But I shared what I had.

APRIL - The only thing I published was another part of a year-long commission: telling the story of Ivan Dreyar from Fairy Tail. (Oh, also, AFK Journey dropped but no art yet).

MAY - Help. Valen arrived. I didn't think I'd draw more. I seriously did NOT think I'd draw more.

JUNE - Still not believing I'd draw so much more. But, I was too tempted to draw Valen in AFK Arena style, so...

JULY - More doodles and sketches. Also this small masterpiece: a pin-up Valen.

AUGUST - My famous art trade with @feli026 . The start of my AFKJ style journey. <3 I am finally joining the Discord and apply for the EsperiArt role.

SEPTEMBER - There we go. The new Season came round and I celebrated it with a Sinbad (before I knew his personality). I also completed my Knight Of The Dark story with Lavinia (a great achievement for me).

OCTOBER - That's why she's properly featured for October: Lavinia, my AFK Journey OC.

NOVEMBER - Toughest group picture to date: Thanksgiving for the Maulers. I am exhausted from work, but I am looking forward to the Christmas break.

DECEMBER - Finally a chance to draw a Christmas themed image featuring Hogan, Valen and Fay. A worthy conclusion to the year, full of colourful art, new friends made and a great game experienced.

❤️ Hopefully 2025 will be just as good. ❤️

#my art #afk journey #afk valen #oceanhorn #ocs #dame lavinia #afk hogan #mesmeroth #art recap #2024 art

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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 month ago

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Five Fics Friday: December 20/24

Happy Friday Before Christmas, friends!! Some of us officially start a break, so let's get into the weekend with five more fics added to my radar this week! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Travellers by Calais_Reno (T, 2,672+ w., 1/? Ch. || Time Travel AU || WiP || Victorian Universe, Christmas, Hope) – I’ve been collecting some ideas for short stories based on The Traveller and have decided to keep them together here. There is no plot; these are scenes (sequels? prequels?) I didn’t include in The Traveller but wanted to share with you. If you haven’t read the original story, Sherlock is a time traveller from 2052 who comes back to 2009 to kill Moriarty, who has set in motion events leading to a civilisation-ending scenario in the year 2143. He meets John, kills Moriarty, and… I’d say the rest is history. Part 9 ofTime Travel

A Commitment by J_Baillier (T, 4,479 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, Rosie Is In This Fic, Marriage, Parenthood, Light Romance, Platonic Romance, Angst, Family, Friendship/Love) – Mycroft has news to share, which prompts John and Sherlock to consider the turns their shared life has taken during the past few years.

H.O.U.N.D. by KtwoNtwo (T, 7,922+ w., 4/16 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU || WiP || THoB Rewrite, Case Fic, Dubious Science) – When Sherlock takes on the case of Henry Knight he is unprepared for what he will find at Baskerville. Behind the facade of doped up monkeys, glowing rabbits, and the ever-present alien joke Sherlock suspects there's a darker trial being run. One without full govt authority that involves a very human subject. It will take all of his courage to face this adversary - to risk his life and his career - to unleash the H.O.U.N.D. from its master, its collar, and it's cage and to give him a chance at true Liberty; a chance to feel human again.

In the Arms of the Ocean by standbygo (E, 10,814 + w., 6/10 Ch. || WiP || Friends to Lovers, Cruises / Vacation, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating) – Sherlock and John are gifted an Atlantic cruise on a luxury ship as thanks from a rich client. Will either one of them finally get their heads out of the sand and share their love for each other? (Spoiler: yeah, they do.)

Fight or Flight by saintscully (M, 10,975 w., 10 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S4 Rewrite / Fix It, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Mutual Pining, Implied Alcohol Abuse, Implied / Referenced Infidelity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealous John, Self Doubt, Fluff and Angst) – This is the story of John and Sherlock during Mary’s months away from London. Part 1 of The Fight or Flight Universe

#johnlock fic recs #five fics friday #my fic recs

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nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105 · 25 days ago

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The Masked King and The Shield Maiden.

Medieval Setting, Medieval Konig, Chapter One.. Chapter Two

Royal!Fem! OC x Royal!Konig

Summary- The year is 1551, Evening Star (December 15th)

Our Beloved King Sargon crowned 10 years ago, during his reign his beloved wife had given birth to daughter. With all the love and support from his fellow subjects. A feast was held for his daughter.

As all of his daughters became of age. King Sargon oldest daughter had taken an interest in the art of war.

King Sargon and his beloved kingdom fall into turmoil when the very safety of his people are put in danger.

credit to Gif by scarlet-and-black

Evening Star, 15th Loredas

Watching the snow fall on the battlefield we have finally won this grueling war. Watching her father in the distance cheering with his fellow Knights. This war that had raged on for so long, it is finally over, but the victory is shorted lived. In the distance her trusted friend Sir Johnny (soap) approaches with a letter addressed to her and the King. Waiting patiently Arwen trembles with fear of the contents of the letter.

Looking over the letter it has her mother red seal on it. Receiving a letter from her mother is never a good sign.

Sighing heavily she drops her shoulders, with a fake smile plastered to her dirty face she thanks Sir Johnny.

Holding the letter in her hands she makes the walk to her father who stands with his right hand man Sir Ghost.

"Father"

sighing heavily but softly her heartbeat quickens. Looking down at the ground the sounds of the bloody mud beneath her boots squelch. Biting back her tears she knows the day has finally come. The ending of the war only meant one thing for her.

6 Months Before Her father read the letter many times before yelling in the main hall throwing his chalice of wine. Arwen with her five sisters stood behind their mother. Watching their father scold obscenity's into the fire. Looking into the flames King Sargon spat into the fire looking over to his wife he sighed softly watching her for a moment he turned away walking to the balcony. Leaning over the stone walls he sighed heavily looking over his kingdom. He was angry with his wife but it was necessary for his daughters to marry. King Sargon was very protective of his daughters. In his eyes no man was good enough for his wild flowers.

Her mother's marriage proposal to another Kingdom. The infamous Masked Austrian King. Before leaving her home they received a letter regarding a marriage proposal. A proposal that would unite the two kingdoms as one. "My beautiful daughters we are to be visited by our neighboring King. The man with no face. The Austrian King.""He is coming here for a meeting in hopes of an alliance between our kingdoms. Your lovely mother here, has sent word to him about my rare beautiful daughters are of age to be wedded.""Arwen my wild flower, I cannot keep you at my side on this one. You must take a husband. Just like your mother and sisters your marriage will be arranged, but he will choose which of my wildflowers he will pluck out of this kingdom." "My beautiful wildflowers"

"Father, why must I take a husband when I'm quite capable of taking care of myself and this kingdom. I have fought many wars with you, father. I have spilt blood for this Kingdom.""I don't want to be married off like defenseless maiden. I am a shield maiden. I have proven my worth on the battlefield. No man will take away my freedom. If they so wish to make me, they will kneel before me with my blade piercing their flesh." "I cannot agree to this madness.

Walking to her father she stood tall. Waiting for an answer she laid her hand gently on his shoulder. Feeling her hand on his shoulder, tears filled his eyes. Inhaling slowly he chewed his inner cheek before speaking. Looking ahead of him he looked into the stained glass windows. Seeing his daughter's reflections made his heart break. Listening to her voice break he had to be strong. With a deep exhale he stood up straight wiping the stray tears off his cheeks he spoke loud.

"Father please." Her voice breaking with stray tears that danced on the rim of her eyes she waited for an answer.

"Arwen! My decision is final!." The sound of King Sargon voice echoed through the main hall scaring the servants. He didn't turn around to face to his daughter. He feared that looking into her eyes his heart would break into million of pieces. "Then so be it! The gods can damn me for all I care!"

Arwen stormed out of the main hall with tears in her eyes, pushing past Sir Ghost and Soap. She grabbed her bow, quiver and dagger running past all the servants she ran out to the fields. Running through the fields she ran till her legs gave out.

"This isn't fair. why should I give up my life to be wedded to a Brute of a King. To have my freedom taken from me."

Looking to the sky then the horizon she wept. Behind her she heard someone approaching. The sounds of multiple hooves galloping towards her.

"m'lady" "Princess Arwen, don't run off like that without an escort to keep you safe." "There are plenty of bandits and your father's enemies that are at bay waiting to strike.

She chuckled softly looking at her slightly calloused hands. Feeling the breeze on her face. Smiling slightly looking up to meet Sir Ghost black veil that covers his face. Wiping her face she sniffles softly, adjusting herself, she sits down comfortably on the grass. Looking to Ghost she smiles at him while he surveys the area around them.

"Sir Ghost you worry too much I can handle myself. I've seen hell before and I've narrowly escaped deaths grasp one to many times." "m'lady, your luck just might run out if you run off without an escort to keep you safe. And if may speak out of line. I know you've been to war and back but my job is to keep you and your sisters safe." "I swore an oath to your father that I will keep you safe and alive and your dignity intact for your future husband." "I relieve you of your duties Sir Ghost. For I will not be needing your services. And my dignity intact you can not speak of that okay. Being a virgin enough is embarrassing to speak of in front of my parents. But most of all you Sir Ghost.

Taking her shoe off she casted it in his direction hit the back of his head she runs off into field laughing. As she runs through the field she caresses the wildflowers and blades of grass on her fingertips. not far behind her, Sir Ghost is holding her shoe on horse back chasing her down. The sounds of his muttering is lost in the sounds of the hooves trotting on the ground.

Present Day

"A letter from mother."

Arwen calls out to her father waving the letter over her head. watching her father walk over to her, with a smirk on his face. Sighing softly she fakes a smile for her beloved father. Straightening her posture she nods to Sir Ghost and Soap to give them some privacy.

King Sargon sees his wildflower expression change immediately as she looks at the sealed letter from her mother. Exhaling loudly through his nose he tries his best to comfort his daughter.

Embracing his daughter he places his hand behind her back as they walk to his tent to open the letter together.

"Father, I uh......."

"Father why do I have marry someone I do not know......"

"Wildflower.....my daughter this is how it is done. We keep the bloodline of royalty clean. Your mother's marriage to me was arranged by her parents. I wish I could protect you from all of this but I can't. you must wed to someone that will watch over you and our kingdom when I am gone."

"I love you my wildflower. I love your mother and your sisters so much that is why I will try my best to find suitable husband for you my child."

"Please child do this for me. My wildflower, I am dying. I fear this maybe my last winter."

"Father, last winter."

"Your mother and I have talked about this for quite sometime but deep down I wish it had never come to this. The King with no face I heard rumors of him about his kingdom. From what Sir Ghost has found out about him, he has had many proposals from many neighboring holds and Kingdoms but to no avail he's declined every offer. We had hoped that he would decline our offer but he accepted it.

I was the one that had your mother write that letter to him. And with my dying wish he is to take one of you to be his wife. As long as I have a successor to usurp the throne I will know that my daughters and my wife will be safe from invaders."

Shaking her head in disbelief Arwen looks to her father with tears in her eyes. Biting back her sobs she rushes to her father side. Holding him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder she weeps.

King Sargon holds his daughter tightly. Tears rushing down his cheeks he hums softly to his daughter as she wails into her father's shoulder.

"My child look upon me please. We still haven't opened the letter."

"Please open that letter. What did mother have say while we were fighting for the kingdom."

Watching her father cut the seal, unfolding the letter she bites down on her lips.

"My child we are to make our way home. The Austrian King has arrived two days prior he waits for us to return. It says he has met your sisters but is eager to meet the oldest child that fights along side her father."

"it states that he has also will bring gifts. And dress is to be tailored for your sisters as soon as we return. We must make haste my child your mother awaits."

Standing in disbelief her father walks past her leaving her alone in the tent.

The world around her starts to crumble to pieces.

Later in the night she lies awake in her father's tent listening to him snore. The last conversation she had with him still buzzing in her mind. This was her father last dying wish, she thought over and over in her mind could she do this. Be married to a King when her heart belong to someone else.

How could she go through such a thing.

Sitting up on her bed she rubbed her tired eyes. Staring down at her feet she felt trapped.

She paced the tent back and forth thinking of her decision she decided to leave. Being married off wasn't an option for her.

With a quill in hand she wrote a letter for her father.

Kissing the letter she held it to her heart.

"Forgive me father"

Placing the letter in on his chest she grabbed her gear and supplies. Looking to her father once again, taking one last long look at him. Listening to the patrol pass her tent she sneaks out the back side of the tent to avoid Sir Ghost.

Silently slipping away into the night she runs on foot away from the camp.

But this escape doesn't go unnoticed by Sir Ghost.

Perched up in the trees he watches her escape into the woods.

Sighing heavily he shakes his head. He calls over Johnny. Heading him his gear only taking a bow and sword with him he follows Arwen on foot into the forest.

Sir Johnny watches Ghost disappear into the woods.

The next morning King Sargon wakes up to find a letter left by his daughter. Sitting in disbelief he is approached by Sir Johnny.

"My Lord, Sir Ghost has gone after her."

"Leave her be she always had a way with coming back. As a child she always had that ability to shape shift. She was born of human flesh but on her 16th birthday on full moon my beloved daughter shape shifted into a ravenous wild bear. To say the least it is my curse, By the nines my daughters carry this curse with them."

King Sargon sighs softly coughing into his handkerchief looking at the contents of the cloth he closes it, throwing it onto the flames it burns.

Deep Into The Woods

Arwen runs till she can't no more. Sighing and screaming swinging her blade about she cries to the wind. Scolding her mother's name to the winds. Sir Ghost emerges from the woods walking tall he walks over to her. Patting her shoulder gently he takes the blade from her slowly. Sheathing the blade he pats her back.

"Lady Arwen we must return."

Sir Ghost waits beside her he keeps his slience as Arwen cries and her stifled sobs come to a complete halt before she speaks she looks to the sky.

"Ghost, what do you know of this King with No Face?"

Sir Ghost sighs softly with a loud inhale he looks down to Arwen. Holding his hand out to her he gently lifts her back to her feet. Dusting her off he nod to her and they began walking back in the direction they came.

"My lady, not as much as I would like but I can find out more about him if you wish my lady. For all I know that he has the second largest Kingdom compared to your father. I know nothing of any prior marriages he has had in the past. Believe me my lady I have been with your father on countless battles in the past. The day of your training I was the one who overlooked all of your training. Sir Johnny was appointed to be the one to watch over you on the battlefield. Your Father loves you and wants only what's best for you my lady. But my lady I pledge my sword to your father. But with my blood oath I swore to your father to guard your secret and to protect you with my life. You have my word. In this life and the next. Sir Johnny and Myself will guide and protect you."

Walking back to her father's encampment Arwen looked at the trees. Sighing softly she wiped the stray tears from her eyes. Sighing with defeat Arwen looked at her hands accepting the fact her life or one of her sisters lives were gonna change forever. The sound of the snow crunching under their boots. The gray clouds in the north had already started to roll in. Looking at Sir Ghost in front of her she exhaled grabbing her cloak tightly to herself she ran to catch up to him. Walking beside him she looked ahead with a heavy heart she didn't want to return.

Back Home at her father's kingdom her mother was in the process of getting her sisters ready for the return of their father and their oldest sister.

The Austrian King had heard on the winds of the King who hid away his wildflowers. This he had to see for himself. All the letters he had received were all marriage proposals. Each of them he had read but only one had stuck out to him. The letter that had a red seal of the mighty Grizzly Bear. The letter that was hidden below all the other kingdoms. To his surprise he was a little shock to see a letter from that kingdom had made its way to him. The feel of the letter was different from the other. Upon opening the letter his senses were filled with a floral scent. The scent of flowers held in that letter. He held the letter to the sun. The paper was made with wildflowers. Small pieces of purple flowers imbedded into the paper.

#konig cod #cod konig #konigx oc fem!#konig #ghost simon riley #john soap mactavish #könig smut #medieval Konig

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kradnie · 2 months ago

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EXO-L Secret Santa Gifts for @hellohailu

@exols-silver-christmas

okay sooo here are some drawings :> at first i didnt know what to draw and even scrapped my first one,, but then when i got into the flow i made like 3 (+ a silly doodle). so here they are and the explanations behind each one :3

also i feel like im bad at capturing facial features but it might just be a lack of confidence T-T

so first one is kyungsoo as a knight. you said you liked fantasy and i immediately thought of that kind of medieval setting with knights and wizard. And i thought armour would look cool with this watercolour brush. and i was right >:3

then we have baekhyun from the kokobop era. you said you like warm colours and my mind immediately went to that.

then the last one is chen (love shot, with the stupid bowl cut (affectionate)) as a kind of mosaic i guess? inspired by the colour palletes you gave me. i wasnt sure about how it looked tho so i made two versions

and the bonus doodle which is of chanyeol from the first album because that photo with the caption made me laugh when i was looking through the photobooks for inspiration

okay thats it. hope you have a great december <3

...i just realised i misspelled prankster. oh well.

#exolss24 #art #art by me #exo #fanart #exo fanart #exo l #chen #exo chen #baekhyun #chanyeol #kyungsoo #exo d.o.#jongdae #digital art #kpop

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wildbluesorbit · 1 year ago

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London: Holiday Prelude || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: Howdy! Here to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming with twist on the London menu: A TIME JUMP! This is how I envision the first meeting between Jake and the reader unraveled. This one is very fluff (which is a bit off brand for this series) and is my gift to all readers who have remained loyal amongst the endless angst. I'm aware, holiday editions are normally posted before the holidays, but I have chronically delayed holiday spirit that doesn’t spark until about a week before Christmas which is when I started this. My holidays got a bit more hectic than I expected so I didn’t finish till just now, but I figured I’d pos. Also, know that my particular style of writing is shaped by an editing process of which requires time I did not have, so baby this is ROUGH. Anyways, I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think.

Summary || Before the storm, there was a calm. Your first interaction with Jake is less than ideal, but you give him a redeeming chance only to spark something more.

Content Warnings || holiday [stress], workload stress, slight verbal aggression, holiday party setting, depictions of affectionate displays

Word Count || 6.6k

– December 24th, London, UK –

Your arduous typing is disrupted by the groan of your office door as it’s hesitantly eased open. You rigorously resume your work, not even averting your eyes to make note of who has disturbed you. You already know it's your colleague. You know they have trouble for you. And you know it's a problem you don’t currently have the attention span nor time for.

Eyes still pinned to the numbers on your computer screen, you address the damsel in distress dawdling in the doorway behind you, “Is it urgent? I’m on a deadline.”

“Um- There’s a customer out here who I have tried my best to help with the knowledge I have,” she remorsefully squeaks.

You mellow your tone as you can hear desperation shrouding her every word, “Tell them I’m unavailable.”

“I did- He insisted he speak to some form of management,” she huffs exasperatedly.

You come to a stopping point in your numbers game and begrudgingly pry your hands from your keyboard. You spring from your chair and propel yourself through the doorway, already eager to crawl back to the stillness of your office. Your footsteps echo against the hallway of dark offices and storage rooms in a unison stride to your coworker a pace behind you; two valiant knights on their quest to the front of the store.

Preparing yourself for battle, you dig for your finest customer service armor as it's buried beneath all the enervating adversities and blows of running the shop; a duty you normally carry so effortlessly and gracefully, but this year you had been the only manager who volunteered to work the holiday week. Your workload alone is enough to spook the average person, but the extra weight you foolishly decided to take on this year is a different beast. You have half a heart to gift yourself hair dye this Christmas as you’re already convinced the New Year would find you prematurely gray.

“Alright, let’s see the prick who is harassing my-,” your finishing thought never arrives as you swing the door open to reveal the store.

Any and all resentment is momentarily tamed by the endless sight of musical paraphernalia. Every last inch of the walls are shrine to the greats; posters, pins, buttons, stickers, clothing, books, CDs, tapes, cassettes, and of course aisles and aisles of record vinyl LPs; all seem to celebrate your great escape from the confinement of your office.

Your eyes adjust to the warm lighting that coats everything and everyone bustling about isles, faces beaming with joy as they discover new treasures to call their own; treasures you ordered and stocked the shelves with yourself.

You take a deep inhale of the healing sight in front of you. You never tire of walking through this door after a long day; a portal to your favorite realm. Your spirit beams as you recognize the classic rock sonic of The Dire Straits pouring through the speakers at way too loud a volume. You find it almost impossible to be upset within these walls. Almost.

Though you want nothing more than to idly wander around the store, you redirect your focus to the task at hand; eyes scouring the floor for the customer that so desperately needs your attention. Within an instant, you undoubtedly deem a man within your gaze responsible for your unnecessary ordeals; no guidance from your coworker is required to know exactly who summoned you from your hideaway.

He is an ornate scene; one that confiscates and pleases your attention all at once. He stands, bare chest proud and puffed, fingers fidgeting with the facial hair that roofs his protruding pout as he devoutly scans through titles of the nearby books. His narrow shoulders are cloaked by long chestnut waves that frame delicate facial features and a prominent nose. He’s rather small in stature, yet strong in physique.

The pretty man is bewitching in the way he seems to have just hopped out of some antecedent reality; a walking, talking antique. Doused in all black, he wears a blazer and waistcoat with nothing underneath to properly clothe his tan skin except chunky chains weighed down by a ridiculous amount of pendants; all silver to match his oversized hoop earrings, reflectively gleaming as he saunters through trespassing sunlight. His torso is paired with black pleated trousers and seasoned black boots. This man looks as if he woke up and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be a pirate or a rockstar.

“You know, Halloween was almost two months ago,” you heedlessly blurt as soon as his golden brown eyes collect yours.

“Real original,” the customer retorts with a smirk and a slight shake of his head, “definitely never heard that one before.”

His American accent nearly startles you; his features certainly tell an origin story of Central Europe, yet his phrasing is not harsh enough to miss the hint of something not quite American in his raspy tone.

You quickly steer away from your cheeky dig and towards a more professional rapport.

“What can I help you with today Mr.?”

“Jacob Kiszka,” he extends his hand to shake yours, “but you can call me Jake.”

The Jake Kiszka. You have definitely heard his name before. A guitarist whose discography is infamously compared to and even deemed gross appropriation of classic rock legends; and whose romantic track record has an even worse stench.

You prematurely take the sincere offer of his hand before weakly falling back to your satirical ways, “Wow, lucky me- I’ve only heard stories of The Illustrious Jake Kiszka.”

He is not oblivious to your sarcasm but decides to take the cocky route anyway, “Oh- A fan, huh? Glad to know my reputation precedes me.”

“I never said they were good stories,” your hand repels from the guitarist’s calloused grasp and attaches to your hip, “but what brings you to my store?”

“This is the only place in town not playing Christmas music,” his eyes flit around the store trying to commit every last detail to memory as if his knowledge might be tested later and questions you with an intimacy he hasn’t yet earned, “So this is your kingdom, huh?”

“I don’t own it, just run it, but yes- this place is my baby and I’m its sales manager,” you briefly answer out of the scarce supply of decorum you currently possess and efficiently reroute to the reason for his visit, “but I doubt you came all this way just to escape the holiday spirit.”

“Well, I am currently in town and in dire need of a last-minute Christmas gift, and you came highly recommended as far as rare LP sets go,” his features stretch into a ponderous tightlipped smile.

The musician either isn’t receiving your assertion of pace or blatantly holds no regard for it as he digresses once again.

You aren’t certain whether his narrative is spoken to you, himself, or some unseen force, “But this really is some marvelous little store you run here. I have to admit I'm a bit envious. Somedays, I swear I would trade it all in for a simple quiet life like this.”

Simple? Quiet? Who the hell does this man think he is to come in the day before Christmas and casually spend your time and patience, only to then reduce your entire world to simple and quiet?!

Your fists discreetly curl behind the secrecy of your back as you scrupulously monitor your highly explosive tone, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Kiszka, but maybe we can hurry this along. I have lots of work in my simple quiet life to return to.”

Instantly, his entire physique cowers to a posture of mortification and regret. If your composure hadn’t already been so far spent, you might have even felt a strand of empathy or reprieve for him.

His face takes on a shameful shade of pink as fragments of an apology trip over one another, “No- No- That’s definitely not what I meant- Of course, the work you do here is very important. The responsibility of granting access-”

You wave him off, bestowing him clemency in hopes of ending this interaction as fast as possible, “It’s fine, but I really do have lots of work to return to, so just follow me.”

You hastily string him to the glass cases in the back of the store, a stream of clicking and clacking trails behind you with every heavy-footed step of his boots. His footsteps gradually sound less and less, his pace a relaxed rhythm compared to yours. You impatiently arrive at your destination of high-valued items and turn to see he is only leisurely tracing your path, still gazing about the store as if he is in an art gallery.

You inhale. You’ve dealt with worse. Today would not be the day you lose your patience with a customer.

Once he finally rejoins you at the display case, you begin the tour of each LP, explaining its contents, history, value, rarity, and your favorite details about it. Showmanly, you set a scene of necessity for each set as to speed his decision process along by targeting his obvious lack of impulse control.

You’re about done appraising almost five sets when a lack of opinions, theories, and questions registers from his silence. You transfer your vision to learn your audience had not at all been concentrating on your dissertation, those amber eyes studying you right back; eyes reflecting not a strand of cognizance for your vain words, pronouncing your breath wasted.

Your abrupt eye contact seems to burst his trance, clearly not expecting you to break from your sale.

“Are you hearing a word I’m saying or-,” you fuss, condemning any remaining attempts at professionalism.

His features reveal comprehension, your confrontation certainly registers but his ample lips only vacillate in a dumbfounded silence.

You flatly attempt to jumpstart his verbal reflexes, “Mr. Kiszka?”

Pressure-buildup from every imprisoned word rattling around his head with no escape, erupts all at once, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I heard you- It's just- When I asked for help today- I didn’t expect someone so-”

A brittle tone emerges before you can even take the time to contemplate what he is trying to articulate, “Young? A woman? A different stigma that probably has nothing to do with my knowledge of music or ability to manage a business?”

“No it's not that- It's just- you-,” he hesitates to catch the breath he forgot to take and decidedly abandons his current thought to expedite his next, as if they might trample over each other if he doesn’t, “This is very inappropriate but I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth and I would appreciate it if you let me make it up to you over drinks tonight. Also, please call me Jake.”

His unanticipated proposition hitches your breath and widens your eyes, “You’re right, that is very inappropriate.”

He quickly shrinks yet doesn’t withdraw his offer, “My brothers will be there too if that makes you feel a bit better, but your expertise so far fascinates me, and I would love to discuss more with you.”

Asking you out. After insults. After disrespect. After no regard for your time-poor schedule. He is asking you out.

You take it back. You have not dealt with worse. This is definitely the worst.

Panic and indignation concoct a bitter climb in pitch, “Unfortunately, Mr. Kiszka, there’s still so much that requires my attention before the year’s end. I’m as busy as someone with a simple and quiet life can possibly be. That leaves no time for idle pints with random guys in pubs. So will you be purchasing anything today?”

“No- of course- you’re right- I’m terribly sorry- I do need to get something,” his attention finally converts to the vinyl with an oncoming frown, “but nothing here stands out to me. I know you certainly don’t owe me any favors but is there any way you can show me anything else? You know- the good stuff?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you blatantly feed him a white lie, “Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

You know exactly what he’s referring to. However, the thought of sharing another second with this infuriating stranger threatens to ignite fire to your dwindling composure. So, you tuck away all opportunities that would admit him to take any step that isn’t towards the door.

He drives his agenda one last time, “You know? The treasures that never see the shelf? Surely, you have a secret stash. Every great store has one.”

“I guess we’re just not that great of a store then,” the shit-eating grin that smears across your face wards off any other inquiries he might probe for, “I can assure you this is the best we have. Maybe next time, do all your Christmas shopping before Christmas Eve.”

You are immediately pricked by a pang of guilt. Even you can admit you are being impudently cruel; for which you expect at least a return of assailment. Yet it never arrives.

Instead, his eyebrows turned upwards just above a sheepish smirk and a diffident man takes the place of the obnoxiously charismatic rockstar once before you. He just might genuinely grieve the score of your transaction. As if he knows something you don’t. As if he knows in some other time or place this narrative was supposed to take a different course and he is now mourning a great failure.

“Okay- well, I can take a hint,” he meekly forfeits, “I apologize for wasting your time. Thank you so much for your help.”

You can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any response, lost somewhere amongst the spate of regret that you might have misjudged him based on presumptions. Your mouth runs dry and you’re only able to blankly stare back at him.

In your silence, he impulsively shoves his hand into his coat pocket and shimmies out some small notebook. He flips through pages and pages of scattered notes and highlights and even some light sketches before he finds the first blank sheet. He materializes a pen from the same pocket that had been sheltering the notebook and quickly scribbles before tearing out the page, folding it in quarters, and gifting it to you.

You’re not sure why, but you find your hand an open landing for the paper. Unconvincingly, you reassure yourself it's because you know little resistance will only usher him out of your store sooner.

As soon as he successfully rids himself of the note, you witness a bashful movement emerge upon his face in what you swear is the biggest and prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. You aren’t allotted time to admire or commit it to memory as its life spans less than a second, quickly shrinking till it's gone.

He bids you a rushed, “Take care, Merry Christmas,” before he turns on his heels and rapidly weaves his way through the isles till he disappears past the glass doors without so much as another word or last glance.

Your eyes gravitate back towards the paper in your hand. You inspect the folded thing before you decide reading its contents would hold no worthwhile benefit and absentmindedly place it in your own pocket.

— December 26th —

You mentally file through your checklist: The doors are locked, the drawer counted, and the lights turned off. Your colleague took care of the floor prep portion of closing duties before she left; you stayed way too late to finish your end-of-year reports. But you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you are forgetting something.

Your phone! You realize as you pat down your pockets you don’t have your phone.

You race to your office through the dark void store to see your abandoned device sitting on top of your desk. As you grab your phone, the little forsaken folded paper you forgot you had placed on the work area earns your attention. Whether you set it aside for two days in a veto or for safekeeping is beyond you.

Now having endured your irrationally aggravated haze that always shrouds end-of-year stress, the only thing that remains is a flare of burning curiosity.

You resist your own inquisitive demands and desert the mysterious note once more to hesitate towards the door, each step becoming more burdensome the further you trudge from your office.

Did you misconstrue him, seduced by mere whispers floating in the wind? Did you indignantly vilify him deceived by your own occupational duress? Despite being verbally clumsy, he was endearingly unconventional, and he clearly carried some remorse for your interaction.

You’re even baffled by the rumination this small piece of paper has conjured. Customers come and go, but you can’t seem to justify why he has become an unwelcome stowaway in your mind.

For the past two days, you’ve been choking on the bitter taste of rueful pining that you can’t seem to wash down. Suffocating under abrasive waves of what might have been if you’d only had patience to spare, till you can no longer deny your craving.

You find your limbs and retrace the progress you’ve just made. You restively unfold the note to read confirmation of the exact information you imagined was inked into the little white sheet.

Please, please, call me Jake. And pretty please reconsider those drinks. (248)434.5508

You are alarmed by the giggle that sounds past your giddy smile, penetrating the silence of an otherwise lifeless building. Your chest is ambushed by an aching weight as your sight darts across the hall to the storage housing the “secret stash” as he put it.

You suddenly have no idea why you’d been so hard on him; just that you’re now certain of your looming resentment. You’re not sure if it’s this reasoning, or the way he looked stunned by you, or even the shape of his giant childish smile you can’t seem to recall, that drives your thumb as you dubiously dial the phone number on the paper.

Each ring of another number entered descends you further on your fall from professionalism and floods your head with panic. As soon as the dial tone begins to ring against your ear you’re immersed into a fit of denial, convincing yourself his answer is an unlikely outcome; despite this being his phone number and you are, in fact, calling it.

“Hello,” his vaguely familiar rasp becomes one of undeniable recognition.

Neglecting to even consider what you might say if he did answer, you awkwardly blurt, “Hey, Mr.- Jake-,” it occurs to you that you never properly introduced yourself, “It’s the girl with a simple quiet life.”

You possess no control over your hand as it impulsively smacks against your forehead amid your poor choice of words.

You’re mortified he might have heard your reflex as he giggles through the line, “Hey, pretty girl. I was hoping you might call.”

— December 31st —

You aimlessly pace about the bathroom, your platform loafers suctioning with every sticky step on the tile. You survey the sting of your angry nail plates, red and visible from an anxious nail-biting fit.

A jiggle of the doorknob and a harsh knock on the door interrupts your examination.

“Just a minute,” your voice shakes trying to overpower the blaring music.

You possess no concept of how long you’ve been hiding out from the party just beyond the bathroom door. You had been wading through a sea of strangers for almost an hour looking for Jake before you finally became overwhelmed, retreating to a random bedroom and locking yourself inside its bathroom. You’re beginning to question Jake’s attendance at the very party he invited you to.

Another bang at the door.

You squeak in panic, “One second!”

You run your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them as you shuffle over to the mirror to perform a last-second evaluation. You straighten the collar of your little black button-down dress and readjust your pantyhose so the hem isn’t visible from your dress’s high-thigh split. You quickly retrieve your wine-red lipstick to featherly dap it over your lips in reapplication and sloppily attempt to recoil any broken curls before you're startled by another thud on the door.

You growl as you stomp over to the entryway, “Who the fuck?! I said hold-”

You swing the door open to gather those wide honey eyes framed by pretty chestnut waves.

The weight lifted from your chest is quickly chased by the embarrassment of your reaction, “Jake?!”

The both of you, relieved to see the other, spill your words out in unison, “Where have you been? I was looking for you!”

You aren’t sure whether the uncontrollable giggle you let out is induced by amusement or nerves. Jake only gives you a peculiar smirk while scanning you up and down.

He slightly tilts his head and tries to interrogate you through a chuckle, “How long have you been hiding in here?”

You’re only able to bat your eyes at him, clueless as to how to save yourself. The way he reads the situation with such accuracy makes you question whether you have the words “socially celibate” written on your forehead; which isn’t true about you at all. You are usually a social butterfly but something about Jake makes you want to gasp for air.

“I’m not hiding,” you blurt the lie straight through your teeth.

“It's blatantly obvious you're hiding,” he playfully rolls his eyes and leans against the doorway, listing the factors that clue him in, “this is not the most accessible bathroom. There’s a bit of wandering you have to do in order to end up here.”

You attempt to redirect his heat back on him, “Well, what are you doing in here?”

His brows draw together in confusion, “You mean…in my bedroom?”

If your face wasn’t beaming pink before it certainly is now.

That night on the phone he had apologized profusely. After you reciprocated the remorse, he insisted on making up for the misunderstanding in person and invited you to a New Year’s Eve party. You spent the hours of that night learning bits and pieces about each other over the phone, yet not once did he make you aware it was his party.

“I mean you invited me, but you failed to mention you own the place,” you shake your head and light-heartedly chide.

There’s a lot of attention that comes with being the host; attention you couldn’t compete with being that you have known Jake for all of five minutes. You have half a mind to make up some excuse to escape now and be done with this.

Jake’s words soothe your storming thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re here and I found you. It's almost midnight and I was starting to think you flaked.”

From where your abrupt banter appears you’re not certain, just that you’re pleased with its arrival, “Wow, all these guests and those pretty eyes were searching for little old me? I’m flattered.”

“I was only concerned you might be hiding in a bathroom somewhere,” he teases back.

You roll your eyes and exit the bathroom. Only now do your inhibitions hush, admitting you to espy Jake dressed essentially in the same ensemble as your first meeting, the sore difference being the color palette. However, this single change is not one of subtlety, as you discover navy blue is certainly Jake’s color.

Jake instructs you to reenter the party and he’ll come find you in a few before disappearing into his own bathroom.

You almost scoff out loud. There is no way you are subjecting yourself back to that lion's den alone. You instead idle about his room.

You presume this bedroom is the master due to its excessive space and height. Two walls of a deep timber green meet one of exposed cobblestone, where the head of the bed is positioned, and another wall that is made completely of bookshelves. Mounted on these walls are frames of various historic maps and sketches and what you assume to be sailing routes. The decor is accented by espresso wooden floors and leather furniture; everything within your line of sight could certainly tell stories of a life dating well before your own.

You wonder how it hadn’t occurred to you before, this room might belong to him; Jake is almost the room personified in its rustic aesthetic.

You saunter over to the wall of books, extending your reach to them. The pads of your fingers ridge against the embroidered spines of various vintage books as you skim through their titles; from which you determine the wall displays are most likely of a piratical lore.

As you scale the bookshelf you run into a bar cart. Surely, he won’t miss a sip of liquor as much as you’re in need of one. You grab a cocktail glass from its rack and start with an easy pour of sparkling water. You aren’t sure which liquor to choose as they are all top shelf but land on tequila, mixing in an extra shot to take off the edge. You dress your drink with the squeeze of a lime and drop it in with a plop of ice, the residual juice left on your fingers begins to sting at your bitten fingernails. You take a moment to admire the symphony of each bubble fizzing its way to the top while ice chimes against your glass; the mere song of a tequila soda already easing your nerves.

As you sip on your elixir and further snoop, you notice there are not many pictures in the room. The few you do find tell the story of four siblings. Although, you struggle to pick Jake out amongst the bunch, having it narrowed down between two in every photo.

A whisper from somewhere just beyond your shoulder shatters your sleuthing trance, “Nosy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your drink nearly escapes your glass from the jolt his ambush sends through you.

He further teases you, “Ah, now you’re going to spill stolen liquor on my floors too?”

“It’s not stolen if you owe me a drink, sir,” you quip, referring to his offer of your first encounter.

He playfully reclaims your drink from you while declaring, “Let’s see how good of a cocktail you can mix-,” he takes a swig and speaks through a stifled cough, “whoa, bit stiff there! I suppose you may just be able to keep up with me.”

You are on the verge of investigating the family pictures when his phone rings. He frowns, yet still retrieves the device from his pocket to read the notification. However, his eyes break from their summon within a second, elated to receive yours once again.

Jake almost pounces on you, giddy to usher you back to the party, “Come on, I want to introduce you to some people!”

You tail him down the hall to the main part of the house until you reach the outskirts of crowd congestion. He shifts his lead to your side, his arm still extended to precede you, parting the way through traffic.

Parading through the guests, almost everyone attempts to greet their beloved host, stepping in front of or trying to walk between you.

You feel Jake’s broad hand lightly rest against the small of your back in an attempt to stay tethered, your skin waking to the sudden warmth and weight of his touch.

As you travel deeper into the heart of the crowd, it only multiplies in its density. Jake's fingers delicately travel from your back, over your hip, and wrap into your waist. He tugs you into his side, practically walking hip to hip; a measure taken to make certain you remain by his side.

Ordinarily, touch from any stranger is an unbearable concept you desperately flee from, but Jake’s hands are ones you’ve never known. He grabs you like he is certain your skin is his to touch. Simultaneously, it's assertive and amenable and affectionate. It grants status in a house full of strangers. You know you’ll only grieve its absence. Yet, you fear how you already crave more.

Your buffer’s escort sees you into the kitchen and immediately draws towards a group of three men: two of a tall lean stature and the other petite like Jake. He walks before you and seizes their attention from whatever concentration previously held it.

You shadow Jake, shifting behind him so there is as little space as possible without physically touching him; weary of your new appetite.

Even inches away from the men’s huddle, you can barely hear over the roar of the overcrowded house and the blaring music; your only indication of Jake speaking is the wave of his hands and the three boys’ responding laughter.

You lean as an attempt to hear their conversation when someone stumbles past you, knocking you straight into Jake’s backside and sending him into a light stumble.

Like some bashful toddler hiding from scary stranger danger, you stand straight and peek over Jake’s shoulder to see three wide-eyed men gaping at you. Jake loops his hand around your arm and casts you dead front and center as if you are a surprise gift he’d been concealing behind his back this whole time.

He lightly rests his hands on your shoulders and leans towards your ear, you gauge he’s close not by sight, but by the warm sensation of his words tickling your skin, “These are my brothers,” then reverts his attention to the other men, “guys, this is who I was telling you about.”

You formally introduce yourself and one by one they do the same: Sam, whom you recognize from the pictures and assume is related to Jake, Danny, whom you’ve never seen before but seems to possess the same familial chemistry, and finally Josh, who you now identify as the other face you couldn’t differentiate from Jake’s in the photos; you know they must be brothers.

You turn to confirm your suspicions with Jake and find he is no longer behind you. Eyes apprehensively detailing the scene, you scour till you recover him at the bar topping off your drink. You know he means well but the last thing you want is to be stranded.

As if he can access your thought flow, the man who earlier introduced himself as Josh is standing next to you now and gingerly places his fingers on your bicep to reassure you, “Don’t worry, you're in good hands.”

As your insecurity is driven away, curiosity remains, “So, what has Jake told you exactly?”

“Well- really, only that he came into your store and bugged the shit out of you-,” across from you, a slightly tipsy and loose-lipped Sam is silenced by Josh nudging him, “ow?!”

“He told us that you hold an interesting perspective and a vast knowledge in the world of music,” Josh earns the title of damage control, “in addition to your immunity to his charms.”

When Josh laughs, it is a grand thing, his whole body participating in his colossal giddy smile. You can’t help but receive the glee he is emitting.

Only now does it occur to you, that pretty smile has graced you once before. It's the same one Jake wore for a mere second, of which the imageless memory has been bugging you for a week. Their wide smile seems to exist in exactly the same shape yet live in different lights: Josh’s a bit more generous and Jake’s a bit more significant.

It isn’t until now that you’re able to delineate all the same features about their face, noting now that they aren’t similarities at all but replicas. Only now can you see they’re twins.

“Stop scaring her,” Jake’s voice rasps from behind you as a fresh drink is placed in your hand.

“If you haven’t done that already, I’m not sure what will,” Josh collects Jake’s warning with a banter of his own.

Suddenly, the boys’ are uprooted by a slow bluesy ballad sounding throughout the house; not a conventional party tune but after all it’s not your party. One after another, each brother’s face lights with recognition of a happening and disappears from the kitchen to the heart of the house, dragging along a someone as their chosen company. You witness every bystander in the kitchen mimic the strange migration. You never imagined a change of song could so dramatically alter the behavior of a room.

Immediately, consciousness of an unknown tenses in your muscles. Your eyes storm Jake for clarification, yet the coy grin that he produces does nothing to soothe your skies.

“So it's kind of a Kiszka New Year’s Eve party tradition,” his hand finds the back of his neck as if he is trying to thread together bad news, “to have a last dance just before midnight.”

“Oh,” your chest drops at a much less severe diagnosis than you anticipated.

Jake distances himself a step from you to offer his hand and bashfully beams, “Care to be my final dance in these last fleeting moments of a year’s dying life?”

“I- um- actually,” you panic grasping for any declination, only to find a confession in reach, “I can’t dance. Well, not slowly anyway.”

He feigns shock, “A beautiful girl of your musical knowledge and you don’t know how to dance?!”

Despite the urge to run far and fast the moment Jake calls you beautiful, you charge to your own rescue, “No one ever taught me!”

He raises an interrogative eyebrow, “You promise that’s the only reason?”

You give Jake a confused nod while also averting your eyes in shame, so you aren’t aware when he lunges to snatch your hand from its comfort zone by your side.

“It’s never too late to learn,” Jake chimes while tugging you from the kitchen.

The unforeseen tow renders you almost tripping over your own feet, docking your sweating glass of courage on the nearest counter.

You’re dragged into a tempest of strangers waltzing about until Jake decides your destination in the eye, a center spectacle accessible for anyone to gawk at.

Jake plants you in position by steading your shoulders. You pay him no mind as your consciousness is currently employed by the surrounding cloud of people. He lifts your arms by the wrists, resting them around his shoulders before drawing in close to place his hands on your waist. You’re once again consumed by the warm weight of his heavy hands that spell you starving for more.

“Jake-,” you begin to fret, suddenly feeling like you might burst into tears.

“Shh- It’s okay- Look- Look, it’s simple,” he consoles you like an eager child.

Jake motions your sight to follow his to the floor as he steps out with his left foot. Paralyzed by your own nerves, Jake doesn’t give up when you completely miss his cue to mimic his movement. You barely process the light chuckle that leaves him as he retraces his step back to starting stance.

Nimbly, his palm delineates your pelvis as his grip runs from your waist to your hip. Jake then replicates his previous action, this time firmly swatting your right side to follow; the slight impact sends an unsolicited shudder down your spine that you pray goes unnoticed.

Hesitantly, you pursue his step. Then again with your left. Retrace. Repeat. Again. Then again. And again. Until you are swaying along with the rhythm.

Jake's eyes have since left the floor, amused at the sight of concentration you are. He allows you a moment of beginner’s peace before disturbing your count.

“I think you’ve pretty much got it,” his finger lands under your chin to lift your hanging head back to eye level again, rejoining his honey-brown gaze, “you can look at me now.”

You recognize something perennial in his tired eyes and all at once you’re aware the road to unwind is undoubtedly a long one, but whether it routes through pleasure or pain is beyond your discernment; the only thing of which you're certain, is at this moment he became ineradicably and irrevocably undeniable.

After a few confident strides, you courageously let your head fall to Jake’s shoulder, only tripping over your instructor’s feet a few times but he doesn’t appear to mind. If you were rhythmically inclined you suppose you might even enjoy slow dancing, swaying about solely to remain blissfully close to your pretty dance partner as the rest of the reality seems to wane from existence.

You swear hours pass before the melody finally fades out, yet Jake and you take your time to rejoin the rest of the world, lingering in your bubble; a countdown to midnight being the hammer that eventually breaks your glass.

TEN! NINE!

You hastily revert back to your own, excusing yourself from any rejection or inquiry by joining the chant.

EIGHT! SEVEN!

Rather than dwell, your abrupt modesty strikes Jake endeared. He simply restructures himself, respecting your space, with a regaling smirk as he now jumps into the sequence.

SIX! FIVE!

Achingly aware that you’re the one who broke it, you’re assailed by a twinge of loss, fighting the appetite to feel him pressed against you once more.

FOUR!

That is until you feel Jake’s slight caress against your wrist. At first, you assume it’s an accident. The remaining life of the current year dwindling provokes the roaring crowd to compact, dancing and hugging, in hopes for a better year.

THREE!

Yet, Jake’s touch doesn’t retract. His fingers dawdle about your skin, dancing down till he climbs into your palm.

TWO!

His vast hand is extensively more than you’re able to hold, so his calluses tickle as he swiftly rakes them against your skin to interlock his fingers in yours; the bond devoted and interminable.

ONE!

You expect a confession from Jake as he cranes his head to fall in close to yours, but instead, feel a pink blaze rise to your cheeks as he delicately places his pretty plump pout just before the corner of your mouth; the sensation of his facial hair, prickly against your skin, being one you’d like to know further.

As he pulls back to revel in your bemusement, you’re finally caught in that beautiful beaming smile for the second time. Your ache to witness the entrancing sight again hadn’t registered until it surfaced long enough for you to savor it this time; your hope for the year to come instantly blossoms from Jake’s smile.

“Happy New Year,” his blessing is barely audible over the cheers of a new era.

Some unseen and unfamiliar force greater than lust, commandeers your limbs diminishing all conscious control as you impulsively cling onto his lapel and yank him back into your orbit.

Recklessly, you devour those pompous pink lips into your own. Jake doesn’t hesitate to consume the small of your back and dip of your waist within the swallowing grip of his palms. His mouth emulates your hunger, letting your kiss flourish and thrive against your lips. You give into your need for an air supply only when you feel the shape of that giant ass smile break the seal of your embrace. Nimbly, you press a small pucker to Jake’s dimples while they exist.

You remain within the gravity of your shared breaths, giggling your wish against his smile, “Happy New Year, Mr. Kiszka!”

pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

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lilmisssona · 9 days ago

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࣪ ִֶָ☾. A Knight In Christmas Armor ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

(Pt.1)

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Pairing - Seungmin x Fem Reader

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Plot - When your aunt leaves for a Christmas trip, she gives you the keys to her house and cats to look after, and you eagerly accept. However, strange and creepy things start happening, culminating in eerie voices echoing through a chilly night. After a scream sends your annoying ex-best friend, Seungmin, to your door, you find yourselves trapped inside with the cats and mysterious voices, as the faulty door won’t lock or open properly.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Genre - Supernatural, Action, Angst, Comedy, Fluff

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Warnings - Supernatural stuff, blood, a lot of swearing, mentions of sacrifice, action, angsty, hurt to comfort, fluff, horror comedy, non idol au, ex best friends to lovers

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Word Count - 9.7 K ࣪ ִֶָ☾.Screenshot Count - 1

࣪ ִֶָ☾. A/N - Episode 7 of Staymas is here, bringing a mix of supernatural fantasy and comedy because what’s Staymas without a hint of horror? It’s my first attempt at this genre in a while, and while I feel it’s a bit rushed, I’d love to hear your thoughts! (Slightly proofread, so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️ ) Split into two parts because Tumblr, as always, hates me 🙄

SKZ Masterlist STAYMAS Masterlist

Part 2 Here

December had finally arrived, bringing with it the familiar chill of winter and the steady approach of Christmas. Yet, this year felt lonelier than ever. Your parents had decided to visit your grandparents in Busan, and with your office rejecting your leave request, you were stuck in Seoul, surrounded by festive cheer you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy.

That’s when Aunt Choi called, her warm yet teasing voice breaking through your gloom.

“Would you mind babysitting Pepper and Sage for a week?” she asked, explaining she’d be heading to Jeju to spend Christmas with her family. Her beloved cats needed someone to look after them.

At first, you hesitated. Spending the holidays alone in your quiet apartment wasn’t exactly appealing, but the thought of staying in her cozy old house with two fluffy companions seemed like the perfect distraction. “Sure, I’ll do it,” you agreed.

When you arrived at her house on a frosty winter afternoon, Aunt Choi greeted you at the door with her usual mischievous smile. Her hands were cold as she pressed a set of brass keys into your palm.

“Take care of Pepper and Sage kindly,” she instructed, her tone light but firm. “They’re shy and take a while to trust new people.”

You nodded, ready to reassure her, but then she added something strange. “Also, the house whispers sometimes. Just ignore it.”

“Whispers?” you repeated, your brow furrowing.

“You know, old house noises,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Creaks, groans, things like that.”

You shrugged it off. “Alright.”

She started to leave but then paused, her expression shifting to something darker. “Oh, and one more thing.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “If you ever hear her scream, leave immediately.”

Her scream? A chill ran down your spine. “What do you mean by....”

Before you could finish, Aunt Choi was already walking briskly down the street, her coat billowing in the wind...

----------------------------------------------------------

The first day passed without incident. Pepper and Sage stayed distant, watching you from the shadows as you unpacked your belongings. You tried to coax them closer, offering gentle words and treats, but they remained cautious. By evening, the house was quiet. You curled up on the couch with a bowl of steaming ramyeon, a lighthearted K-drama playing softly in the background.

And that’s when you heard it.

“Hello,” a faint whisper echoed.

Startled, you glanced at the TV, thinking it must have been part of the show. The scene on screen was tense, the kind of moment that would have eerie background sound effects. You laughed nervously and resumed eating.

But then, it came again, clearer this time.

“Can you hear me?”

Your chopsticks slipped from your hands, clattering loudly onto the table. Your pulse quickened. Pepper and Sage, who had been lounging nearby, suddenly sprang to attention. Their fur bristled as they hissed, their wide eyes fixed on the kitchen.

You turned toward the kitchen, your gaze following theirs. The room was dark, shadows pooling in every corner, their shapes shifting as if alive. It looked empty, but a nagging sensation told you it wasn’t. Someone or something was there, hidden in the darkness, watching.

Heart pounding, you rose slowly from the couch and grabbed the metal bat Aunt Choi had left by the living room door. Its cold weight steadied your trembling hands as you tiptoed toward the kitchen, each step echoing in the stillness.

Reaching the light switch, you hesitated for a moment before flicking it on. The room was suddenly bathed in brightness, every detail sharp and clear. The counters were spotless, the cupboards closed, and there was no sign of movement. Nothing out of place. Nothing to explain the voice.

You let out a shaky laugh, your breath misting in the cold air. “Nice try, Aunt Choi. I’m not falling for it,” you muttered. But as you turned to leave the kitchen, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the house was listening.

That night, something unexpected happened. Pepper and Sage, who had avoided you all day, climbed into bed with you. Their soft fur and rhythmic purring brought a surprising sense of comfort, one you didn’t realize you needed.

“You two like me now, huh?” you murmured, running your hand over their silky backs. They nuzzled against your neck, their warmth easing your thoughts and lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

But peace was not what the night had in store.

At exactly 2:30 a.m., your phone alarm blared, shattering the stillness of the house. Startled, Pepper and Sage leapt off the bed, their claws skittering against the wooden floor, while you fumbled to silence the piercing noise.

“Stupid alarm,” you muttered groggily, your hands fumbling with the screen until the sound ceased.

Stretching to shake off the awkward stiffness in your back, you swung your legs off the bed. Thirst clawed at your throat, so you decided to head downstairs for water. Pepper and Sage watched you closely, their glowing eyes glinting in the dim light before they cautiously followed, their steps soft but hurried, as if they didn’t want to lose sight of you.

In the quiet kitchen, the cool water refreshed you as you drained two full glasses. The house was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. As you set the glass down, a chilling realization gripped you: your phone didn’t have an alarm set for 2:30 a.m. In fact, it wasn’t even with you, it was still lying on the coffee table in the living room.

“So… what was that?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your heartbeat. A chill crawled up your spine as the truth began to sink in.

And then, as if on cue, the kitchen lights went out, plunging the room into total darkness.

Your breath hitched, the sudden shift pressing an invisible weight onto your chest. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Pepper and Sage hissed, their bodies stiff as they fixed their eyes on something, something right beside you.

You clenched your fists, forcing your eyes shut. You didn’t want to look. But then it came, a cold, unnatural breeze brushing past your ear, sending icy shivers down your spine.

Summoning what little courage you had, you opened one eye.

Standing before you was a faint silhouette. The figure, a woman, was pale and translucent, her very presence draining the warmth from the air. Her lips moved slowly, unnaturally, as she spoke in a voice that seemed to echo from another world.

“Do you love me?”

Your throat tightened as you tried to scream, but no sound escaped. You were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

Pepper and Sage hissed louder, their tiny bodies trembling but steadfast. The woman’s hollow gaze flickered toward them, and just as quickly as she’d appeared, she vanished, her form dissolving into wisps of smoke.

Relief washed over you, but your legs gave out beneath you. The last thing you remembered was collapsing onto the cold kitchen floor before darkness consumed you....

----------------------------------------------------------

When you opened your eyes, sunlight was streaming through the curtains. You were back in bed, Pepper and Sage curled up beside you, purring softly.

“Just a dream,” you murmured, rubbing your temples. But your body felt heavy, and an inexplicable ache lingered in your chest. Shaking it off, you got up to start your day.

The second day passed without incident. After feeding Pepper and Sage and tidying up, you left for work. The office was its usual dreary self, but the thought of returning early to the cozy house and your feline companions kept you going. By the time you arrived back, the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow across the sky.

Pepper and Sage greeted you at the door, their tails flicking as they meowed softly.

“Missed me already?” you joked, scratching behind their ears. They followed closely as you made your way to the living room.

But as you stepped inside, your breath caught in your throat.

On the coffee table, where you’d last seen your phone, lay a single white rose atop a folded note. The sight sent a chill through your body. Slowly, with trembling hands, you picked up the paper. The edges crinkled as you unfolded it, revealing a message scrawled in red ink:

Do you still miss me?

Your stomach churned. The words were hauntingly familiar, but you couldn’t place them. Glancing nervously around the room, you half-expected the ghostly woman to reappear. Pepper and Sage stayed glued to your legs, their low growls breaking the silence.

Grabbing the bat from the corner of the room, your hands trembled as you searched every nook and cranny of the house. Shadows seemed to shift in the corners of your vision, and every creak of the floorboards set your heart racing. But there was nothing. No one. The house was empty, or so it seemed.

When you returned to the living room, the rose and note still sat there, an ominous reminder of the night before. Deciding to send Aunt Choi a picture, you reached for your phone only to find it displaying a "no service" message. Frustration and fear bubbled up as you stared at the screen.

And then, a notification pinged, shattering the tense silence.

It was a text.

From him.

Rage bubbled inside you as you glared at the screen. He was the one who betrayed you, and now he had the audacity to play the victim to accuse you of clinging to the past.

The nerve!

With a frustrated sigh, you shoved your phone into your pocket, dismissing his words. Marching to the kitchen, you tried to channel your anger into something productive, like making dinner. For now, you shoved aside thoughts of the rose, the note, and the unsettling events of the night.

After preparing a quick meal and feeding Pepper and Sage, you retreated to your bedroom, desperate for the sanctuary of sleep. It wasn’t even 9 p.m., but you curled up under the covers, exhaustion and frustration weighing heavily on you. The cats climbed in beside you, their warm bodies pressing close as if they could sense your unease.

But peace was a fleeting luxury.

The temperature in the room dropped abruptly, the chill seeping through your skin and pulling you from the brink of sleep. Pepper and Sage perked up, their ears twitching and their bodies tense. Then, you heard it again,the whispers.

“Y/N…”

“Hello…”

“Can you hear me?”

The disembodied voices swirled around the room, weaving through the walls like tendrils of smoke. You froze, pulling the covers tighter, hoping it was all in your head. But the whispers grew louder, relentless, burrowing into your thoughts like a parasite.

Your breath hitched as the whispers suddenly ceased, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake. Slowly, you lowered the blanket, daring to peek into the room. For a fleeting moment, you thought it was over.

And then it came.

An ear-piercing scream tore through the house, raw and unearthly, making you cry out in terror. Pepper and Sage bolted under the bed, their tails puffed up in fear. Trembling, you clamped your hands over your ears, desperate to drown out the horrific sound.

Then came the knocking.

At first, it was faint, like a hesitant tap. But it grew louder, each knock reverberating through the house, demanding attention. You stared toward the hallway, your pulse racing, the bat from earlier still lying beside you.

Gripping it tightly, you forced yourself to move, your feet feeling like lead as you descended the stairs. Each knock seemed to echo louder in the suffocating silence. With a surge of courage or sheer desperation you reached the door and swung it open, the cold night air rushing in.

There he was.

Seungmin.

He stood on the porch, his eyes wide, his breath misting in the icy air. His expression was a mix of concern and nerves as he shifted awkwardly, clearly caught off guard.

“Sorry to interrupt,so late…” he started hesitantly, his voice low. “But I… I heard screaming. I live next door and thought...” His voice trailed off as his gaze met yours, recognition flashing across his face.

“Y/N?”

“Kim Seungmin,” you muttered, your knuckles whitening as you gripped the bat.

“What are you doing here?” you snapped, the anger from his messages still fresh in your mind.

“I told you, I heard screaming,” he replied defensively, his hands raised slightly in surrender. “I thought something was wrong.”

“No need to be my knight in shining armor Seungmin.I don’t need your help,” you shot back sharply. “You can leave.”

Before he could respond, the house plunged into darkness. The lights flickered out, and a suffocating silence enveloped the air.

Then came the thud.

It was loud and heavy, reverberating through the house like something or someone had fallen. The scream followed, raw and blood-curdling, ripping through the silence and freezing you in place.

Instinctively, you jumped forward, colliding into Seungmin’s chest. His arms wrapped around you protectively, steady despite his own trembling. You could feel his heartbeat pounding as fast as yours.

Even then, he still managed a dry, sarcastic comment.

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and steady despite the chaos, “looks like I am your knight in Christmas armor.”

“Shut the fuck up!” you snapped, stepping out of his embrace and furiously brushing yourself off, as if his very touch burned. A flicker of disappointment crossed Seungmin’s face, brief but undeniable, before he masked it with his usual composed, neutral expression.

“Look, Seungmin...” you started, your tone sharp and unforgiving, but he silenced you with a finger gently pressed to your lips.

“I don’t want to argue with you right now, Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but edged with urgency. “We’re in danger, and we need to get the hell out of here!”

Before you could retort, he grabbed your hand, his grip firm and unyielding. But you yanked it away, your glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“I’m not leaving without Pepper and Sage!” you snapped, your voice cutting through the tense silence.

“Who?” he asked, clearly baffled.

“The cats!” you barked, exasperation dripping from every word.

Seungmin let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in visible frustration. He closed his eyes briefly, likely summoning the last shred of his patience. “Fine. We’ll take them with us!”

Wasting no time, you called out to Pepper and Sage. The two cats darted out from their hiding spot, their wide eyes glowing in the dim light. Scooping them up, one in each arm, you held them tightly as you and Seungmin rushed toward the door.

But just as you reached it, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang, the sound reverberating through the house like a warning. You staggered back, nearly losing your grip on the cats.

“No! No, no, no!” you cried, panic rising in your chest, your voice cracking. “This can’t be happening!”

Seungmin stepped forward, his jaw tightening as he rolled his eyes. “Relax. It’s probably just the wind,” he muttered, gripping the doorknob and giving it a hard pull. When it didn’t budge, he tried again, his knuckles whitening as he applied more force. Still, the door refused to move.

“Great,” you hissed through clenched teeth, carefully setting the cats down on the floor. Crossing your arms tightly, you glared at him. “Just great!”

Seungmin turned to you, his frustration mirrored in his expression. “We can just call a locksmith or something...”

“Oh, sure,” you interrupted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Go ahead. Try it.”

With a scowl, he pulled out his phone, tapping at the screen. A moment later, he groaned in frustration. “No signal,” he muttered. “Can I use your phone?”

You let out a bitter laugh, holding up your own phone to display the glaring lack of signal bars. “It’s been like this since I got back tonight,” you snapped.

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed with concern. “Wait....if the house has been acting like this, why didn’t you leave earlier?”

“That’s none of your business!” you shot back, your voice rising as fear and frustration tangled together. “And for your information, this is my aunt’s house. I’m here to babysit...”

A low, guttural growl rumbled through the room, cutting you off mid-sentence.

You froze, your breath hitching as your hands instinctively gripped the edge of the couch for balance. The sound was unnatural, deep and resonant, vibrating through the walls like a living entity.

Seungmin’s head snapped toward the hallway, his grip tightening on the bat he still held. His voice dropped to a tense whisper. “What the hell was that?”

“I...I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you unconsciously inched closer to him.

Pepper and Sage hissed in unison, their fur standing on end as their unblinking eyes locked on the dark hallway. The growl faded, leaving behind an eerie, oppressive silence that seemed to breathe around you.

Seungmin’s jaw clenched as he finally spoke, his voice barely audible but filled with resolve. “Change of plans. We’re not just leaving...we’re running. Find another way out. Now!”

----------------------------------------------------------

A chilling laugh pierced the air, sharp and mocking, wrapping around you like a blade. It was followed by a rasping voice, low and menacing, as if it came from the very walls themselves. “Trying to leave, aren’t we?”

You froze, every muscle in your body locked in place as terror coursed through you. The oppressive silence that followed was suffocating, a vacuum that seemed to pull the air from your lungs. The voice lingered, a haunting echo vibrating faintly, as though the house itself was alive and listening.

Pepper and Sage were tense, their fur bristling, their tails puffed up like bottle brushes. Low hisses escaped their throats as their wide eyes darted between you and the shadowy hallway ahead, their movements jerky and panicked.

“We’re wasting time,” Seungmin muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His grip on the bat tightened, his knuckles white against the wood. His eyes flicked to the shifting shadows that seemed to stretch and crawl across the room. “We need to move. Now!”

Before you could reply, a bone-deep chill swept through the room, cutting into you like icy needles. The air grew heavy, suffocating, pressing down on you with an unseen force. The lights above flickered erratically, their glow casting fractured shadows that twisted and danced unnaturally on the walls, almost as if they had a life of their own.

And then it hit you, the scent. Sweet, cloying, and overpowering. Roses. The fragrance filled the air, suffusing every corner of the room, thick and inescapable. It wasn’t just a smell; it was a presence. It crept into your lungs, your head, your very senses, leaving you lightheaded and trembling.

Your heart dropped as recognition struck like a lightning bolt. It was the same scent as the rose on the table. The same one from the note.

Your breathing hitched, your chest tightening as fear clawed at your throat. And then, through the flickering light and twisting shadows, she appeared.

At first, it was just a faint shimmer, a ripple in the air like heat rising off asphalt. But slowly, it solidified, and a figure began to take shape at the far end of the hallway. She was draped in a tattered wedding dress, its once-white fabric yellowed with age but somehow glowing faintly in the dim light. Her veil fluttered eerily, though no breeze stirred. Her translucent form carried an unsettling beauty—until you looked at her face.

Her eyes were voids, bottomless pits of shadow that seemed to pierce into your very soul. And her smile… it was soft, almost serene, but beneath it simmered something twisted, something that made your knees weak and your chest tighten.

“Do you love me?” she asked, her voice a haunting melody that resonated unnaturally, each word vibrating in your bones.

Seungmin immediately stepped in front of you, gripping the bat like a lifeline. “Stay back!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of fear he tried to mask.

The bride tilted her head, the motion unnervingly childlike, though her smile widened with sickening sweetness. “Why would I hurt you, Seungmin?” she purred. Her hollow gaze flickered to you briefly, then back to him. “You promised me, remember?”

Your stomach churned. “What the hell is she talking about?” you hissed, grabbing Seungmin’s arm.

“I don’t know!” he snapped, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him. His uncertainty sent a chill down your spine.

The bride’s smile faltered, her expression darkening. Her voice dropped to a whisper that dripped with malice. “You don’t remember me?” She glided forward, her movements too smooth, too unnatural. “The promises you made under the moonlight? The vows you swore would last forever?”

Seungmin’s face went ghostly pale, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came.

“Seungmin,” you said urgently, shaking his arm harder now, “what is she talking about? Did you....”

“I don’t know her!” he shouted, cutting you off, his voice frantic.

The bride’s soft laughter rang out, each note sharp and mocking. “Oh, but you do,” she murmured, her tone venomous. “You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. I remember everything. And now…” Her gaze snapped to you, her smile curling into something cruel. “You’ve brought her here. To replace me.”

Your breath hitched as the air around you grew colder, sharper, biting into your skin. The bride’s serene expression twisted into one of rage, her voice deepening to a guttural growl. “Do you love her, Seungmin?”

Seungmin stumbled backward, his free hand clutching yours tightly. “We need to move,” he whispered urgently.

“Where?” you demanded, panic rising in your chest.

“Anywhere but here!”

Before you could take a step, the bride raised a ghostly hand. Behind you, the door slammed shut with a resounding boom, and the windows sealed themselves with echoing clicks.

“You’re not leaving,” she said coldly, her voice echoing like a dreadful chorus. Her translucent form shimmered, her presence looming larger. “Not until you answer me. Do you love her?”

“Run!” Seungmin yelled, dragging you toward the stairs.

But as you reached them, the wood beneath your feet shifted. A sharp crack filled the air, and the steps flattened, sending you both tumbling painfully to the floor below.

Groaning, you clutched your side, wincing as pain shot through your ribs. Above you, the bride’s laughter rang out again, taunting and merciless. “Told you,” she sneered, materializing before you once more.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin asked, his voice tight with worry as he helped you to your feet.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, glaring at the bride through the haze of fear and pain. “What do you want from us?”

Seungmin raised the bat again, his voice shaking with anger. “Leave us alone!”

The bride’s veil fluttered unnaturally as she cocked her head, her hollow gaze almost playful. “So brave,” she murmured. “Very well. I’ll let you go… but only if you prove yourselves worthy.”

“Worthy of what?” you snapped, frustration and fear boiling over.

“Of love,” she replied, her lips curling into a sinister smile. “Complete my tasks, and I shall set you free. But fail…” Her voice dropped, becoming a bone-chilling whisper. “And you’ll remain here. Forever.”

Suddenly, Seungmin’s gaze locked onto an opening, a window. His grip on the bat tightened, and without hesitation, he shouted, “To hell with your tasks!” Grabbing your hand, he yanked you toward it with frantic urgency.

“Seungmin, wait!” you cried, stumbling to keep up, but he didn’t stop.

The ghost bride’s laughter echoed through the room, chilling and mocking. “Do you really think you can escape me?” Her voice slithered through the air, dripping with malice.

“Watch me!” Seungmin snarled, raising the bat high as he closed in on the window.

But as he reached it, the window slammed shut with a deafening crash. The sound reverberated like thunder, leaving the room trembling. Seungmin’s jaw tightened, and with a growl of frustration, he swung the bat at the glass with all his might. The force sent shockwaves up his arms, but the glass didn’t crack. It didn’t shatter. Not even a scratch appeared.

“Come on!” he bellowed, swinging again and again, each strike more frenzied than the last. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he poured every ounce of strength into breaking free. Yet the window remained unyielding, a taunting, impenetrable barrier.

The ghost bride’s voice rang out, dripping with cruel amusement. “Oh, Seungmin,” she taunted, her tone honeyed but wicked. “You can’t break what isn’t real. Haven’t you realized yet? You’re mine.”

Seungmin’s frustration erupted in a guttural yell as he slammed the bat to the floor with a force that rattled the room. “Dammit!” he shouted, his chest heaving, his breath uneven.

You placed a trembling hand on his arm, your voice barely a whisper. “Seungmin… stop. It’s useless.”

He turned to you, his eyes wild with a storm of anger and helplessness. “So what? You want us to just sit here and play her twisted games? No way.”

But despite the fire in his voice, he sank onto the couch, his shoulders slumping under the weight of defeat. You followed, sitting beside him as the suffocating silence of the room pressed in from all sides. Neither of you dared to speak, the tension as heavy as a thick fog. Your hands shook uncontrollably in your lap, curling into fists in a vain attempt to steady yourself. But the tears came anyway, silent, relentless, beyond your control. Exhaustion made you indifferent to wiping them away.

The quiet stretched on, unbearable and thick. Finally, the weight of everything overwhelmed you, and the tears fell freely, a quiet admission of the helplessness consuming you.

“I’m sorry,” Seungmin muttered suddenly, his voice barely audible. He stared at the floor, his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, your voice raw. “It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Before you could say anything else, the room flickered to life. The television powered on with a loud click, its eerie light casting shifting shadows against the walls. Static buzzed briefly before clearing. Words began forming on the screen, their playful, sinister font twisting in an unnatural dance:

“Make a meal together; it warms your heart with every bite.”

Seungmin’s jaw tightened. “What the hell is this?” he muttered.

“She’s toying with us,” you said, your voice trembling.

The bride’s laughter rang out again, surrounding you, suffocating you. “A little teamwork never hurt anyone,” she cooed, her voice as mocking as it was chilling. “Show me your love, and perhaps I’ll let you leave.”

Seungmin shot to his feet, his fury igniting as he glared at the screen. “This is insane! You want us to cook for you? Are you kidding me?”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” the bride’s voice replied, smooth yet ice-cold. “It’s for you. For each other. Love begins in the little things, don’t you think?”

You scoffed, running a hand through your hair as frustration bubbled over. “This is ridiculous. We’re not doing this.”

Seungmin’s voice softened, almost breaking. “Y/N…” The fear in his eyes made your stomach twist. “What choice do we have?” he whispered. “If we don’t do what she wants… we’ll never get out of here.”

You hesitated, your jaw tightening as you fought the logic in his words. Memories of distant promises and the ghost’s accusation, ex-best friend, lingered in your mind like an unanswered question. “This is so messed up,” you muttered, your stomach twisting. But finally, you nodded. “Fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

The television clicked off abruptly, plunging the room back into a chilling silence.

Then, without warning, the kitchen lights blazed to life. The space transformed before your eyes, now immaculately pristine yet unnervingly surreal. Neatly arranged ingredients and utensils lined the countertops, every item positioned with unsettling precision as though the scene had been waiting for you.

You and Seungmin exchanged a wary glance, unease rippling between you. But with no other choice, you stepped toward the kitchen.

The ghost bride’s voice slithered through the air once more, smug and cold. “Make it with love,” she whispered. “Every bite counts.”

“Tofu, gochugaru, chicken stock, kimchi, soy sauce, garlic…” Seungmin scanned the ingredients, his eyes darting between each item. His lips quirked into a small, bittersweet smile as he murmured, “Looks like we’re making sundubu jjigae tonight… just like old times.” His eyes met yours briefly, flickering with a shadow of something you couldn’t quite place.

You glared at Seungmin, the warmth of old memories clashing with the simmering anger in your chest. “Don’t,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He flinched, the weight of unspoken guilt evident in his expression. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The air between you was suffocating as you both moved to complete the task, the ghost bride’s ominous laughter still lingering like a cruel echo. Despite the charged silence, your movements synced in an odd, unspoken rhythm. There were awkward moments, a brush of fingers here, a fumbled handoff there but neither of you acknowledged them. Slowly, the dish began to take shape. The tofu, sliced into precise cubes, bobbed in the bubbling broth, rich with the tangy heat of kimchi and the vibrant red of gochugaru. The aroma of Sundubu Jjigae filled the space, stirring memories you had long buried.

Finally, the dish was complete. You both stood back, staring at the finished stew. The vibrant hues of the kimchi and tofu stood out against the dark, glossy broth. It looked perfect, almost too perfect for the chaos surrounding you.

Seungmin shifted beside you, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It smells... just like before,” he muttered, glancing at you.

You ignored the pang in your chest and picked up a spoon, the warm aroma curling around you. The first bite brought a rush of flavor that made your eyes widen in surprise. The stew was rich, spicy, and deeply comforting so much so that for a fleeting moment, the oppressive weight of the room seemed to lift.

“It’s... good,” you admitted, the words slipping out reluctantly. You hated how it brought a small, fleeting smile to Seungmin’s lips.

“Yeah?” he asked softly, hope flickering in his voice.

You didn’t answer, instead handing him a bowl. The two of you ate in tense silence, the quiet punctuated by the occasional clink of spoons against ceramic. For a moment, it almost felt like old times, like you were a team again. Almost.

But Seungmin broke the illusion. “YN,” he began hesitantly, his voice low. “I’m sorry... for everything. For ghosting you. I should’ve been there.”

You froze, your spoon hovering mid-air, before setting it down with a sharp clink. “Don’t,” you said, your voice brittle. “You don’t get to do this now. You left, Seungmin. No explanation, no goodbye. You don’t get to apologize and expect it to fix everything.”

His jaw tightened, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I know,” he murmured. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I....”

“Enough,” you interrupted, your voice rising slightly. “It doesn’t matter now.”

The air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating, before the ghost bride’s mocking laughter pierced through it like a blade. Her voice echoed from every corner of the room, cold and taunting. “Ah, such delightful drama,” she purred. “But you’re not done yet.”

---------------------------------------------------------

The room shifted suddenly, the air growing colder as the lights dimmed. The kitchen vanished, replaced by an unsettlingly romantic setup. Candlelight flickered across the table, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The scent of roses overwhelmed your senses, sickly sweet and cloying. A table for two stood at the center, adorned with fine china, silverware, and a bottle of wine that seemed to gleam ominously.

“What is this now?” Seungmin asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You shook your head, your lips pressing into a thin line. “Her idea of a joke, apparently.”

The ghost bride appeared in the shadows, her translucent figure floating effortlessly. Her grin was sharp, her voice dripping with malice. “A romantic dinner. Just the two of you,” she cooed. “I want to see love rekindled.”

Seungmin glanced around the transformed room, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I... didn’t expect this,” he muttered, disbelief thick in his voice.

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. “What are we supposed to do here? Pretend this is normal?”

He let out a nervous laugh, his hands fidgeting with the silverware in front of him. The suffocating awkwardness in the air was almost tangible, made worse by the ghost bride’s cold, knowing smile hovering in the background.

“So, uh... this is romantic, huh?” Seungmin said dryly, reaching for a wine glass in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “Romantic? We’re trapped in a haunted house with a ghost forcing us to make dinner, and who knows what else.”

“Right,” Seungmin murmured, a nervous chuckle slipping out. His eyes darted to yours briefly before he hesitated, his expression uncertain. “Okay, so... do you want to talk about anything? I mean, since we’re here.”

The question hung in the air, thick and heavy. The tension between you was palpable, but an odd thread of humor weaved through it as you both fumbled to make the situation less unbearable. Reaching for your wine glass, you were stopped short when Seungmin grabbed it first.

“Hey! That’s mine!” you protested, leaning forward with a grin to snatch it back.

“No way,” he countered with a smirk. “I’m the one who gets to drink first.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I miss the royal decree that makes you the king of wine?” you shot back, an eyebrow arched.

Seungmin snorted, clearly amused. “At least I’m not the one trying to chug all the wine just because this is supposed to be a ‘romantic date.’”

You narrowed your eyes in mock irritation. “That’s it. I’m leaving.”

“Go ahead,” he teased, his smirk widening. “See how that works out for you.”

Before you could fire back, the ghost bride’s chilling laughter echoed through the room, louder and more pointed this time. “Oh, come on, you two. Can’t even enjoy a meal together?” Her voice dripped with mockery, her head tilting in amusement as if she were thoroughly entertained by your awkward exchange.

You stared down at your plate, your appetite fading. “What’s there to talk about?” you muttered, your voice sharp with lingering resentment. “It’s been what months, Seungmin ? You disappeared without a word.”

Seungmin flinched at the accusation, his guilt evident in the way he avoided your eyes. “Yeah... I know. And I’m sorry. I should’ve....”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your tone flat and unwavering. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He faltered, his mouth opening as if to respond, but no words came out. The silence that followed was suffocating, every scrape of silverware and shift in posture amplified in the stillness. The weight of unspoken words hung heavily between you, while the ghost bride’s watchful gaze loomed over the table, as though eagerly awaiting the next spark of conflict.

“So...” Seungmin tried again, forcing a weak smile as he gestured to the food. “What do we do now? Eat?”

You gave him a look of pure exasperation. “Yeah, I guess that’s the whole point.”

The two of you ate in tense silence, though neither seemed to actually enjoy the meal. Seungmin kept stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to quickly look away when you caught him. You, in turn, picked at your food, determined not to meet his gaze.

Then, cutting through the oppressive quiet like a blade, the ghost bride’s voice echoed once more, her tone icy and amused. “You’re so quiet. Is this how you two always eat together?”

You looked up, startled by the ghost bride’s sudden intrusion. “What do you want from us?” you snapped, your patience wearing thin. “We’re eating. We’re doing what you want.”

The ghost bride smiled that unnerving, disembodied smile again, her voice syrupy sweet. “How can you say that when you’re so distant? Where’s the love? Where’s the spark? I demand to see it.”

“Spark?” Seungmin stammered, glancing between you and the ghost bride, clearly baffled. “We’re barely even talking, and you want... that?”

“Love is in the little things,” she cooed, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “The way you feed each other, the way you smile at each other, the way you share a quiet moment. Let’s see if you remember that.”

Seungmin shot a confused look at you. “Uh... YN?” he said, his voice heavy with reluctance. “I guess... should we share a bite or something? To, you know, show the ‘love’ or whatever?”

You blinked, taken aback by his suggestion. “What? No. You don’t just... share food to rekindle a spark,” you said, a half-laugh escaping you as you shook your head at the absurdity of it all.

Seungmin’s eyes widened in realization, and a nervous laugh slipped from his lips. “No, no! I’m just trying to make the ghost lady happy.”

The humor fell flat, and the tension returned, thickening the air once more. You sighed, deciding it was better to just get it over with. “Fine. Let’s just do this.” With a mixture of reluctance and exasperation, you held out your fork, offering him a bite of your dish.

Seungmin hesitated, his face caught between amusement and discomfort. “Alright, here goes nothing.” He leaned in to take the bite, but as he did, he knocked the plate, splashing sauce onto his shirt.

You burst out laughing, unable to stop yourself. “Smooth move, Seungmin,” you teased, the laughter easing the tension, if only briefly. “Guess you’re really ‘sparking’ things up now.”

Seungmin, his face flushed with embarrassment, managed a sheepish grin. “Yeah, well, guess I’m not the expert in romance.”

Just as the awkwardness seemed to subside, the ghost bride’s voice echoed through the room again, cold and mocking. “How sweet. But this is not enough. The next part of your task begins now...”

----------------------------------------------------------

The ghost bride clapped her translucent hands together, a gleeful smile stretching across her eerie face. “A dance! Let’s see if you can move as one, with grace and passion.”

Seungmin groaned. “A dance? Really? We’re in the middle of... whatever this is, and now you want us to waltz?”

You shot him a sharp look. “Oh, come on. It’s not like we have a choice here, Seungmin.”

“Why do I feel like this is some kind of sick couples’ therapy?” he muttered under his breath, earning a half-snort, half-smile from you.

The ghost bride’s voice cut through the air again, dripping with authority. “Enough stalling. The music begins now.”

Suddenly, a hauntingly beautiful melody filled the room, the kind of tune that sent chills down your spine. The ghost bride drifted to the side, her expectant gaze fixed on the two of you.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Seungmin said with an exaggerated sigh, extending his hand toward you. “Try not to step on my feet.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, taking his hand. “If anyone’s stepping on toes, it’s you.”

He grinned, leaning in slightly. “Bold of you to assume you’re that light on your feet.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but didn’t respond, allowing him to lead you to the center of the room. As his hand settled on your waist, a flicker of awkwardness sparked between you two, a reminder of the tension that still lingered, unresolved and thick in the air.

The dance started off slow, almost too slow. The melody swayed between romantic and ominous, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. Oh right, the ghost bride. Of course, you were being watched.

“Okay, not bad,” Seungmin said, his tone a mix of surprise and approval as you twirled into his arms without tripping. “Maybe you’ve had some practice.”

“Are you saying you didn’t expect me to be good at this?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m saying I’ve seen you trip over a flat surface,” he replied, fighting back a laugh.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he spun you before you could. For a moment, it felt like you might actually fall, but Seungmin caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into him with a smirk.

“See? I’ve got you,” he said, his voice softening, almost teasing.

You stared at him a beat too long before glancing away. “Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, focusing on the steps instead of the warmth of his hand on your back.

The ghost bride’s voice sliced through the music like a blade. “You call this dancing? Where’s the passion? Where’s the fire?”

Seungmin shot her an incredulous look. “We’re trying, okay? Maybe lower your expectations.”

“Passion doesn’t need to be tried,” she snapped. “It comes naturally.”

“Well, excuse us for not being the leads in some ghostly rom-com,” you retorted, earning a stifled laugh from Seungmin.

The ghost bride’s chilling smile returned. “Let me make it easier for you, then.” With a wave of her hand, the room seemed to shrink, forcing you and Seungmin even closer. The music grew louder, more insistent, as if daring you to falter.

You stumbled slightly, your face inches from Seungmin’s chest. “Great. Now she’s making us claustrophobic.”

“Just focus,” Seungmin said, steadying you with an arm around your waist. His voice had lost its usual sarcasm, and for a moment, he almost sounded reassuring.

But then his next words shattered the moment: “Unless you’d rather call it quits and let her haunt us forever.”

“Oh, you wish,” you shot back, pulling away just enough to regain your footing. “I’m not giving her the satisfaction.”

You moved in sync again, the tension easing ever so slightly with each step. The occasional bump of knees or misstep drew soft laughs, though neither of you dared to acknowledge the deeper emotions lingering beneath the surface.

Just as you started to think you might survive this without further embarrassment, Seungmin’s foot caught on yours, sending him off balance. He grabbed onto you for support, pulling you down in an awkward heap on the floor.

“Well, that was graceful,” you said, struggling to suppress a laugh as you sat up.

“Totally your fault,” Seungmin replied, wincing as he rubbed his elbow. “You distracted me.”

“Oh, sure. Blame me for your two left feet.”

Before he could respond, the ghost bride loomed over you both, her expression unreadable. “Pathetic,” she sighed. “But entertaining, at least.”

You exchanged a glance with Seungmin, the humor of the situation bubbling up despite everything. “Guess we’re better at comedy than choreography,” he muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

For once, you didn’t argue. “Yeah. At least we’ve got that going for us.”

The ghost bride’s disapproving sigh echoed through the room as the music faded. “Enough. Perhaps you’ll do better in the next task.”

Your stomach sank. Next task? You glanced at Seungmin, who looked equally apprehensive. “What do you think she has in mind this time?” you asked.

He shrugged, helping you to your feet. “Knowing her? Something even worse.”

“Fantastic,” you said dryly, brushing yourself off. “Can’t wait.”

----------------------------------------------------------

The ghost bride’s voice dripped with amusement as she announced the next task. “One fine blood-red rose from the terrace garden under the moonlight. Alone, of course.”

“Alone?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “Why? Isn’t this a team thing?”

She let out a chilling laugh. “Not this time. You must do this alone, my dear.”

Seungmin took a step forward, his jaw tight with defiance. “This is ridiculous. I’m not letting her....”

“Any interference will result in consequences,” the ghost bride warned, her voice sharp as a knife.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll do it. Just… stay here, Seungmin.”

His expression was etched with worry, but he nodded reluctantly. “Be careful. Yell if anything happens.”

“Great advice in a haunted house,” you muttered under your breath as you headed toward the staircase.

The air grew colder with each step, your breath visible in the dimly lit corridor. The shadows seemed alive, shifting and flickering as though they were watching you.

Halfway up the staircase, a loud thud echoed behind you. You whipped around, heart racing, but saw nothing, just the empty hall.

“Okay,” you whispered, swallowing hard. “It’s just the house messing with me. That’s all.”

When you turned back, a porcelain doll was suddenly on the step in front of you, its glassy eyes locked onto yours. You let out a startled yelp, stumbling back.

“How did you…?” you began, but before you could finish, the doll’s head slowly turned to the side with a faint, deliberate creak.

“Nope. Nope. Nope,” you muttered, sidestepping the doll and hurrying up the stairs.

At the top, the faint sound of a child’s laughter echoed through the air, sending a chill down your spine. You glanced over your shoulder to find the staircase now filled with dolls, all standing eerily still, their unblinking eyes following your every move.

“Wonderful,” you muttered, forcing yourself to keep moving. “Just me and my creepy doll fan club.”

The terrace door loomed ahead, and as you reached for the handle, it creaked open on its own.

“Of course,” you muttered, stepping outside. The garden was bathed in silvery moonlight, its beauty strangely mesmerizing. But the eerie calm didn’t last.

As you approached the rose bush, the sound of footsteps echoed behind you. You froze, your heart pounding. “Hello?” you called, your voice trembling.

No response.

Taking a shaky breath, you turned back toward the rose bush, only to find a shadowy figure standing between you and the flowers. Its face was obscured, its form flickering like a dying lightbulb.

“Who ? what ? ” you stammered, stumbling back. The figure tilted its head, and before you could react, it lunged at you with a guttural scream.

You shrieked, ducking just in time as the figure dissolved into thin air.

“Okay, this is officially the worst idea ever,” you muttered, your hands trembling as you approached the rose bush again.

The blood-red rose glowed under the moonlight, its vibrant hue almost hypnotic. You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing the petals. As soon as you plucked it, the ground beneath you crumbled away.

A scream tore from your throat as you grabbed onto a nearby vase, your legs dangling over the void below. The once-beautiful terrace was now a crumbling expanse of nothingness, the wind howling in your ears.

Back in the dining room, Seungmin shot to his feet when he heard your scream. “Y/N!” he shouted, sprinting toward the terrace despite the ghost bride’s warning.

Meanwhile, you clung to the vase, your arms trembling. A narrow rope bridge materialized in front of you, swaying dangerously in the wind.

“Really?!” you shouted at the void, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “This is the solution?!”

Seungmin burst onto the terrace, his face pale with fear. “Y/N!”

“Oh, hey,” you called weakly, your voice trembling. “Fancy seeing you here. Just hanging out. Literally.”

His eyes darted to the rope bridge, then to you. “What the hell is going on?!”

“Long story. Not the time!”

Ignoring the ghost bride’s warning, Seungmin stepped onto the rope bridge, his arms outstretched to keep his balance as the wind howled around him.

“Stop!” you yelled. “She said...”

“I don’t care what she said!” he snapped, his voice laced with desperation. “I’m not letting you do this alone!”

As he inched closer, you felt your grip slipping. “Seungmin,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t hold on.”

“You’re not falling,” he said firmly, his jaw clenched. “Not on my watch.”

When he finally reached you, he grabbed your arm, his grip steady despite the shaking bridge. With a grunt, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as the void disappeared and the terrace returned to its original state.

You clung to him, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He held you tighter, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I’m not losing you. Not again.”

From the shadows, the ghost bride observed with a satisfied smile. “Well done. The rose is yours… but your journey is far from over.”

The air grew heavier as you and Seungmin descended the staircase from the terrace. Without warning, her chilling voice echoed around you once more. “Oh, how sweet you two look together. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?”

Before you could react, the world around you shifted. The air turned icy, and a dense fog engulfed the staircase. You turned to Seungmin, but he was no longer beside you.

“Seungmin?!” you called, panic gripping your chest.

“Y/N!” his voice echoed faintly, distant and unreachable....

----------------------------------------------------------

The fog swallowed your surroundings completely. When it cleared, you found yourself in a dimly lit room. Shadows flickered along the walls, and at the center stood an ornate mirror, glowing faintly. On a pedestal before it lay the blood-red rose you had plucked earlier.

The ghost bride’s voice slithered into your ears, soft and sinister. “To move forward, you must confront the truth. Pick the rose, and let it reveal what you’ve buried deep inside.”

Your hands trembled as you reached for the rose. The sharp thorns pricked your finger, a single drop of blood welling up. The mirror rippled like water, and an image began to form.

At first, it was blurry, but as the scene sharpened, you realized what you were looking at, a younger version of yourself, no older than eight, sitting cross-legged on a playground bench. Beside you sat Seungmin, his cheeks flushed from the autumn chill, his dark hair sticking out in all directions. In one hand, he held a popsicle; in the other, a bright yellow bandage, which he clumsily pressed against your scraped knee.

“Stop squirming,” he mumbled, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“It hurts!” your younger self whined, tears welling up as you winced.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t always trying to show off, this wouldn’t have happened,” he retorted, exasperated but not unkind. “Just… stay still, okay?”

Despite his words, his touch was gentle. His small hands carefully smoothed the bandage into place. When he finished, he leaned back with a satisfied smile.

“There. Good as new,” he declared, holding up his popsicle triumphantly.

Your younger self sniffled, managing a weak smile. The sting of the scrape faded in the face of his earnestness. “Thanks, Minnie.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, though his pink cheeks betrayed his embarrassment.

It was a small, fleeting moment, but it had set the foundation for your entire friendship. Seungmin had always been there for you, through scraped knees, school struggles, and the awkwardness of growing up, you’d been each other’s constants.

The scene shifted, and the golden playground light was replaced by the hum of fluorescent bulbs. Now high school-aged, you both sat on the rooftop of your school, textbooks spread out between you.

“Do you think they’re right?” Seungmin asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Who?” you asked, looking up from your notes.

“My parents,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “They’re always saying I’m not good enough. That I’ll never amount to anything.”

His words struck something deep within you, and without thinking, you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “That’s not true, Seungmin,” you said firmly. “You’re one of the smartest, most talented people I know. And you’re kind. Who cares what they think?”

He turned to you then, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, his gaze heavy and unwavering. Then he gave you a small, shy smile and nodded.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The rooftop scene dissolved, replaced by the hustle of a university library. The two of you were surrounded by a mountain of books and empty coffee cups, deep into finals week.

“Alright,” Seungmin said, snapping his fingers to get your attention. “What’s the answer to question five on the practice exam?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know! I’m going to fail, drop out, and probably end up living in a cardboard box somewhere.”

“Relax,” he said with a laugh. “You always do this, Y/N. You freak out, and then you ace the exam like it’s nothing.”

“Says the guy who crammed the entire syllabus last night,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“And yet, here I am,” he replied with a grin that lit up his entire face. “Maybe I’m just a genius.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, fighting a smile.

“Y/N, you’ve got this,” he said, his voice dropping to something softer, more earnest. “You’re one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. And, just so you know, you’re kind of a genius too.”

His words made your cheeks flush, and you turned your attention back to your notes, mumbling, “Whatever, Minnie.”

He laughed, warm and carefree, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

The scene shifted, and suddenly, you were standing at the entrance of the house, the night of the party. Your past self lingered at the doorway, smoothing down your outfit nervously as if it could steady the whirlwind inside you. Felix was the first to greet you, his ever-bright grin lighting up his face as he extended a drink toward you.

“Finally! The life of the party is here,” he said, his cheerful voice cutting through the hum of conversation and the pulsing music.

You took the drink with a small smile, your fingers trembling slightly as you gripped the glass. The party was alive around you, laughter, vibrant chatter, and the warmth of so many people gathered in one space. But your focus wasn’t on them. It never was.

You stood near the bar, fidgeting with your drink as your eyes roamed the room. Your heart pounded with a mix of nerves and anticipation, every step forward feeling like a delicate balance between courage and hesitation. It felt as though everything in the past few months had been leading to this moment. Every unspoken feeling, every stolen glance, and every night you stayed up thinking about him, all of it had brought you here.

And then you saw him. Seungmin.

He stood across the room, near the far corner, casually leaning against the wall as he laughed with a group of mutual friends. He looked just as he always did, relaxed, effortlessly composed, and with that soft smile that always sent your heart into a frenzy.

But tonight, there was something different. The way his eyes darted around the room, almost searching, sent a flicker of hope sparking in your chest.

“Maybe he’s looking for me?” you thought, the idea igniting a warmth within you.

You hesitated, the weight of what you had decided to do pressing heavily on your chest. Your palms were clammy, and your stomach churned with nervous energy. You had promised yourself tonight would be the night. You would tell him how you felt, how he wasn’t just your best friend but your everything.

Taking a deep breath, you clenched your hands at your sides and took a tentative step toward him.

But before you could reach him, a familiar voice slurred behind you, freezing you in your tracks.

“Y/N…”

Your stomach sank as you turned and found yourself face-to-face with Hyunjin. His disheveled appearance and glassy eyes told you everything you needed to know, he was drunk. The redness in his cheeks wasn’t from the party but from something far more troubling.

“Hyunjin,” you said cautiously, stepping back as he stumbled closer to you. “You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Drunk? Maybe,” he said with a bitter laugh, his words slurring as he gestured loosely with his hand. “But I had to see you. I needed to see you.”

Your heart tightened as he took another unsteady step closer, his expression shifting from bitterness to pleading. “Y/N, I made a mistake. I was stupid. I…I want you back.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, but not in the way he probably intended. You took another step back, your voice steady but firm. “Hyunjin, we’ve been over this. It’s over. You need to let this go.”

But he wasn’t listening. His desperation took hold, and before you could stop him, his hands grabbed your arms, pulling you into a tight, forceful hug.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling and raw. “Just one more chance. I can be better. I swear.”

Your breath caught, anger bubbling beneath the surface as you struggled against his grip.

“Hyunjin, stop it!” you snapped, your voice rising. “Let me go!”

The mirror zoomed out, revealing something you hadn’t noticed that night, a shadow in the corner. Your heart sank as the image sharpened to show Seungmin.

He had been watching the entire exchange.

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening painfully as the mirror captured his expression in that fleeting, raw moment. Gone was his usual calm demeanor, the quiet confidence that made him seem unshakable. Instead, his face was a storm of emotions: hurt, betrayal, and anger. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter, his fists trembling at his sides. His eyes, usually soft and warm when they landed on you, were now ablaze with a mixture of pain and fury.

From across the room, Seungmin’s gaze locked on the sight of Hyunjin holding you. Your face was obscured, pressed against Hyunjin’s shoulder, and in Seungmin’s mind, the worst conclusions took root and twisted deeper with every passing second.

Tears gathered in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

The mirror panned back to Seungmin, and you could see how quickly the anger began to smother the sadness in his expression. His thoughts spilled into the room like whispers from a wound too deep to heal.

“Of course you’d choose him… Why wouldn’t you? I’ll never be enough for you, Y/N. Not for you, not for anyone.”

You stumbled back a step, your voice breaking as you whispered, “No. Seungmin, I wasn’t...I didn’t…”

Suddenly Seungmin’s thoughts faded as the mirror darkened, leaving only his broken expression burned into your mind. You reached out instinctively, as though you could change the past by touching the glass, but your fingers met only a cold, unyielding surface.

The reflection twisted, the room behind you flickering like a dying light, and when it settled again, you were staring at Seungmin, only this time, his lips were pressed against Beth’s.

Your heart stopped, the image searing into your chest like a brand.

But the scene didn’t stop….

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࣪ ִֶָ☾.ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

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