#first of all. hi. i'm not leaving <3 but. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelfishe · 2 days ago

Note

hiiiiii :3

I was wondering if you could do head canons or a one shot about the traveler and paimon visiting the fortress of meropide to wish wriothesley a happy birthday. They decide to quietly enter through the main door to his office to surprise him, but they see wriothesley and reader making out. you don't have to do it if you don't want too!

please and thank you

I hope this manages to please you and if I'm sorry it's kind out of context. Hope you enjoy it

"𝐔𝐇-𝐎𝐇 𝐆��𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓"

<< Genshin man x reader >>

Character : diluc, kaeya, alhaitham, ayato, zhongli, childe, neuvillete, wriostheley, dottore, pantalone, capitano

"Imagine getting in the middle of the act"

Warning may contain NSFW content

⚠️ Minors do not interact please ⚠️

Diluc it's no secret to do staff of the dawn winery about you guys sex life, I mean everyday Adeline has to change the cum stained bed sheet to fresh ones for you guys to dirty it again, I mean you guys are so loud to the point it can be heard in the servants corners thats the reason why the staff have eye bags under their eyes they didn't get enough sleep due to the noise, at some point you guys broke the bed unable to survive diluc strength you guys have to buy a new one and when asks diluc is unable to forge the words to say. During angel share closing kaeya accidently left some important documents on the table and when he went inside he saw you and diluc is doing something busy and his present stop you guys he immediately grab the document leaving an angry diluc yelling at him to leave.

Kaeya the entire mondstat knows you've guys business, I mean when he's bored he asks for your presence under the excuse of an official knight business which everybody knows it's a code for "playtime" in the HQ, Unfortunately there's a new rookie working in the knights of favonius that no one warn them about the calvary captain break time is, and that unfortunately lead towards the rookie opening the door of the captains office and seeing his lover being hit on in the back by the captain, the rookie immediately slamming the door close with blush on their face, and the knights around HQ was like "first time ?"

Alhaitham even tho alhaitham put on a stern face, he's by far one of the most shameless Characters towards location it doesn't matter where it is in the forest, the library, in a tent in the middle of the desert, in a temple there's no limit to where you guys are gonna do it, poor kaveh having one of his projects staying up all night to work on it and hearing the bed creaking on the other room and yelled to keep it down from his room towards you guys. During alhaitham birth day cyno, tighnari and kaveh was planning on holding a surprise party on alhaitham, unfortunately when they burst in the room and they witness alhaitham getting his "birthday present" from you unfortunately you were unable to make eye contact with them for one week for alhaitham he act as if he did not just give them trauma, that's why knock first when entering his room

Ayato this man is SHAMELESS, even tho most of the citizens don't know what's going on in the kamisato estate, the servants fall into victims to his shenanigans. It's no secret ayato is into shibari as well in his and beloved bedroom above the bed there's a hook to you know. Thoma is by far has to deal with his antics having to wipe the stained of the wet soiled sheets or floor. Every time he asks to bring a snack it's always you to bring it because to be honest you are the snack not the tea and cake, and after finishing he would buy you boba for you and him to enjoy. Even if he gets caught out side of his circle he would bribe them or threaten to cut off the person's tounge and ruin their lives if they dare to release information about the yashiro commissioner private life with his beloved. But that was never the case because usually the spectator would be immediately dealt with by the shimatsuban or are too afraid and fled the nation. He needs to keep his reputation and image clean and if someone there is to shame you or his clan they would be dealt immediately.

Zhongli a gentleman on the street, monster on the sheets. Zhongli is a very popular consultant in ancient liyue history and during afternoons he would usually have a nice walk with you but it's not nice with you when you're limping because of how hard he went from last night. In ancient times to modern liyue it's very known for the nation to have earth quakes once a month it's not dangerous but it might scare some tourist visiting liyue but the citizens of the nation has gone to normalize this earthquake they believe it's rex lapis rearranging liyue or shedding. But in truth once a month zhongli would have rut and take you to his private domain to release his stress and that's the reason why the nation once a month have earthquakes.

Childe a manace amongst society or in teyvat when it comes to privacy, he doesn't care if someone walks in on you guys, he's too busy doing you to not to care if he give someone mental scars but he would always lock the doors when you guys are visiting his family he doesn't want to see his little siblings rearranging his lovers organs as well as sound proofing the entire by sound proofing by putting a pillow on your month for you to bite on to make sure not to release any sound. During one dinner meeting Teucer once had a bright idea of asking something towards you guys in front of the family "big brother why does (brother / sister ) ( your name ) calls you daddy" and the dinner table suddenly went quite and childe answer with "were just playing house Teucer" and Teucer innocently went back to his dinner not noticing the awkward atmosphere around the family.

Neuvillete pretty much a gentleman plus very new to these sorta things I would like to say is a switch, during the climax of the act he would cry during it not tears of sadness but tears of happiness when climaxing best feeling in the world for him, and during this time rain would fall on the city of Fontaine the people it's a normal accuracy. The melusine knows too well about you guys when you visit him the melusine prohibited anyone from entering the ludex office due to this important business meeting, he needs it he's very stressed due to paperwork. as well having a private underwater cave for you guys to do it unbontherd by the city or being too loud.

Wriostheley everybody knows not to bother the duke when he's sweetheart is visiting or else mess with your credit coupons being cut a large half or extra pipe duties for the guards. No one is brave enough or respects him to not mess with his sweetheart They call you the ( marquis / marquise ) of meriopede, holding a position lower than duke but still one of the prison administrator. Unfortunately during the day traveler and paimon decided to visit wriostheley during a busy day, the other workers of the prison were too busy dealing with duties to keep them occupied from interrupting him. And it was too late to warn them the next thing you hear both of their screams and them immediately leaving the office with their face fully red and covering their eyes. What they witnessed was the duke discussion of "business" with the ( marquis / marquise ).

Dottore this man doesn't like when people interrupt him and his lover private time, his clones are by far fine walking in as long as it's not the little one of him walking in so that's why they have to say their ID before going in. And when his clones walk in he would immediately release a pissed "hmmph" and continue on even after finishing you have his clones to satisfy even tho he said having intercourse with them is not necessary and it's your choice to have it or not, but sometimes after finishing or when he's busy to entertain you he would assigned the clones to keep you busy or satisfy you I mean they don't mind it they actually enjoy it. But when one of his lab rats or lower ranking was caught betraying the fatui and went to beg for their life and came rushing in and end up witnessing the doctor with his spouse, soon the lower ranking researcher was used as a test subject for his next experiment how unfortunate his fate was originally gonna be a quick towards the head now they have to suffer due to interrupting his time with his beloved.

Pantalone this man is stressed out due to the amounts of paper work and how much the fatui cost to operate, everyday Is a new bill about something. Dottore needing new funds, childe spending habits, materials, paychecks, taxes and other stuff and that's why he loves having you in his office and when he's overstressed and needs stress relief he would kindly ask to sit on his lap or to kneel down between his legs. He also favors toys and fancy lingerie but when there's a business meeting he tends to leave those things out in public. One time when one of his assistants went inside the office to grab a document he requested in his table is a vibrator and a lacy black underwear and some stained left on the floor the assistant quickly left the office with his paper not minding about what they just witnessed because it's a normal occurrence for them and his other assistant or people who work under him and for those people who accidentally walk in they would be paid a large sum of mora to keep their mouth shut or have their mouth shut by having their tounge cut out. He has a reputation to keep of course.

Capitano ah the captain, the leader of the military of Snezhnaya, number one fatui Harbingers out of eleven of them. Many people love the captain even amongst the fatui being praised for his self righteousness and capabilities. And some even praise his abilities as a lover. Imagine when he walks out of his tent and his entire squad claps and praises his skills in bed. "Man I wish my lover would make me scream the same way the captain would make his beloved scream" or " I'm pretty much sure the captain got a large rack under their" comments spread around the fatui I mean the rumors are true tho. But it's pretty much embarrassing for both of you. So that's why the captain started to tie you up, gagged you as well blindfolding you to make sure not a sound or creak of bed let's out to make sure no one listens to you sing. During his trip in natlan you and him were enjoying the hot spring and ended up getting too "steamy" and got caught by the villagers due to how loud it is.

500 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 2 days ago

Text

Tormented Spirit | 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.

At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.

Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.

"Daughter." "Sister."

These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.

Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."

Your face drops as you turn to her.

She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.

Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."

Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."

Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"

You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.

The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"

He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"

You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.

"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."

You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.

You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.

You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.

"What?" you knit your brows at him.

"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."

He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"

Your maester nods, "highly likely."

You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."

You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.

"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.

It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."

Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."

Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"

"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.

"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."

Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"

"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"

This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."

Corlys sighs, "as I was-"

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"

Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"

Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"

Daemon whips his head his direction.

"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."

Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"

Daemon clenches his plate

"And she never mentioned thi—"

"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.

Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"

"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.

Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.

"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!

He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.

He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.

He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

He's read enough.

Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.

You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.

Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."

You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"

"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."

Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."

" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.

"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."

You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.

He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."

You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."

"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."

Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."

He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."

"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."

Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.

"Continue!"

He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"

"He is," you scratch your eyes.

"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."

You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.

"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."

You feel sick, sicker.

"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."

You heave as you continue walking around.

"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."

You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.

"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."

"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.

He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."

"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"

He is taken off guard when you shove him back.

"Even you are against me!"

Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."

You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"

His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.

"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"

"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"

"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"

He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.

You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.

Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"

"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"

He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"

"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."

His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."

You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.

When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.

He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.

You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."

His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.

The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.

He frowns.

"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."

He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."

You huff, "I am her older si-"

"But for your babe."

You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."

"My princess."

"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"

He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.

The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.

The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.

Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.

"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."

Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."

The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."

You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.

Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."

You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.

Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.

You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.

"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.

You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.

Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?

As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.

Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."

You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.

"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."

You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.

"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."

His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"

You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."

He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"

"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."

Viserys turns to you.

You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."

He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."

You find no comfort in his words.

"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."

The thought nearly makes you flinch.

He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"

You begin to feel sick.

"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."

Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.

"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"

"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."

"Eadan—"

He grins and points, "little fire."

"—and Alaeric," you huff.

"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."

You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."

He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."

"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."

He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"

"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."

Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"

You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."

"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.

Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.

"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"

Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.

Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.

The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.

It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.

Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your but, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

Your scream makes his stomach curdle.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

The thought is gutting.

You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."

Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.

Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.

Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.

You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.

Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"

"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."

Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.

You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."

She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."

A tear fog your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?

She wordlessly agrees.

You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."

A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."

"They're perfect, are they not?"

She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."

You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maester's see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.

You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.

Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."

"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve."

You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."

"My princess, I-"

"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"

He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."

You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.

Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their vows.

Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully take it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"

"I..." he start, about to explain it is inappropriate.

"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."

"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.

All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.

You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.

Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.

Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"

You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.

"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."

The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.

He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"

Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."

"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"

Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"

"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.

The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"

"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"

"Please."

The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."

"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."

Arryk turns to Erryk.

"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.

Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.

Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.

"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.

The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.

Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"

Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"

You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.

You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

361 notes · View notes

mattsbows · 2 days ago

Text

nurse!reader. . .is comforted by matt after losing a patient ♡

as soon as you stepped through the front door of your and matt's shared home, you tossed your belongings to the side, sliding down the door until you were crumpled in a small ball, sobs wracking your chest.

you knew matt was somewhere in the house, but right now, you didn't have it in you to care. losing patients was part of your job; you'd known that since you first hit the "apply" button for nursing school. but that didn't mean that it didn't destroy you when lost one, especially working in a children's hospital. you were so caught in your emotions that you didn't even hear matt enter the foyer, his soft voice tainted with worry.

"sweetheart? what's going on?" matt asked, kneeling down to be at your level.

you said nothing, opting to crawl into his arms. your tears began to soak through matt's soft, black shirt, leaving a wet patch in your wake. your partner said nothing, simply rubbing your back and humming softly to you. matt knew you'd talk when you were ready.

"i...i lost one today." you mumbled after a few minutes, your voice weak and shaky.

"oh baby," matt sighed gently, kissing your head. "i'm so sorry, darlin'."

"it's not fair!" you sobbed. "she was so young. she was only three, matt."

"i know, honey. it's not fair at all, is it?"

"her heart transplant didn't work."

matt felt his heart twinge with sympathy, unable to imagine a parent losing their child that young. "i'm so sorry, baby. but you know what?" he asked, tilting your chin to look into your teary eyes.

"hmm?" you asked, nose runny.

"she got to spend the last of her time on earth feeling so, so loved because she had the best nurse in the world."

"but i couldn't do anything. i could've saved her." you mumbled.

"baby," matt said gently. "you are the best nurse and the smartest girl i've ever met. i know she felt so loved. sometimes the universe has plans that don't make sense, but i know you did everything you could."

you nodded softly, your tears beginning to slow. "yeah."

"she's always gonna be looking out for you, baby. i know she loves you and is so grateful for you."

you nodded at matt's statement, resting your head against his strong chest. "thank you. i needed that, i think."

"you're welcome, sweetheart," matt kissed your forehead softly. "if you want to, we can do something to honor her soon, yeah?"

your heart practically swelled at just how kind matt was. he had never even met the little girl, yet here he was wanting to honor her. you had never met such a loving, genuine man in all your life. but then again, matt was one of a kind.

a note from the author: i hope you all enjoyed! i know this blurb was a bit heavier, so if you need support, my inbox/dms are open<3

❁ tags: @mattsdemi @purpledragon222 @slxtarchive @natashad0627 @quinnysnursery @tyummyz @colorthecosmos444 @lockettesroom @mattyblover07 @marrykisskilled @beautyloves @nicksbestie

#© mattsbows #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you

226 notes · View notes

notrebdomine · 2 days ago

Text

Eric Harris journal last pages ↷

There are about 40 pages scanned from his journal of various kinds of things, but these were the last ones

ꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀ

I would like to say that at first i thought those were like the columbine maps but no, i never noticed those are actually (except for the 6th image) DOOM maps! ꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀ

+ last writtings !

Transcript 1 ↓

❝Jesus christ that was fucking close. Fucking shitheads at the gun shop almost dropped the whole project. Oh well, thank god I can BS so fucking well. I went and picked up those babies today, so now I got 13 of those niggers. WOOHAH. The stereo is very nice, but having no insurance payments to worry about so I could concentrate on BOMBS would have been better. Oh well, I think I'll have enough. Now I just need to get Vodka another gun.❞ 12/29/98 (December 29th 1998)

Transcript 2 ↓

❝Months have passed. It's the first Friday night in the final month. Much shit has happened. Vodka has a Tec 9, we test fired all of our babies, we have 6 time clocks ready, 39 crickets, 24 pipe bombs, and the napalm is under construction. Right now I'm trying to get fucked and trying to finish off these time bombs. NBK came quick. Why the fuck cant I get any? I mean, I'm nice and considerate and all that shit, but nooooo. I think I try too hard. but I kinda need to considering NBK is closing in. The amount of dramatic irony and foreshadowing is fucking amazing. Everything I see and I hear I incorporate into NBK somehow. Either bombs, clocks, guns, napalm, killing people, any and everything finds some tie to it. feels like a Goddamn movie sometimes. I wanna try to put some mines and trip bombs around this town too maybe. Get a few extra frags on the scoreboard. I hate you people for leaving me out of so many fun things. And no don't fucking say, "well that's your fault" because it isn't, you people had my phone #, and I asked and all, but no. no no no don't let the weird looking Eric KID come along, ohh fucking nooo.❞ 4/3/99 (April 3rd 1999)

#tcc columbine #eric columbine #dylan columbine #columbine school shooting #true cringe community #tcc fandom #teeceecee #eric and dylan #reb #columbine 1999 #tccblr #dylan and eric

150 notes · View notes

fr0stf4ll · 3 days ago

Text

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

Trigger warning; Blood, pain, injuries.

notes; Hello everyone! I'm super exited on how this story is going to turn (and let me be honest it's probably going to be long, at least longer than the Forger of starlight for those who read it). Still I hope that you are going to enjoy this chapter ! Don't hesitate to comment <3 See you soon !

Link; Part 3

---

The next morning’s light cast a pale glow through the clinic’s windows, the faint scent of antiseptics and dried herbs greeting you as you unlatched the doors. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to keep your mind on the tasks at hand rather than on the unsettling knowledge lodged behind your ribs. A mate—Azriel was your mate. Even thinking the word sent your pulse skittering.

One of the healers—a younger fae named Elira, with cropped auburn hair and warm brown eyes—stepped inside just as you finished propping the doors open. She paused, studying your face with a hint of concern. “Morning, Y/N. Are you all right? You look… tired,” she said gently, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders. The morning still carried a chill, and you realized you’d barely felt it through the fog in your head.

You mustered a weary smile. “I’m fine,” you lied, voice quiet. The words felt brittle, and you suspected Elira might sense the untruth. But you couldn’t burden her with the chaos pounding in your skull. “It was a long night. Emergencies.”

Elira nodded, sympathy softening her expression. “Did something serious happen?”

“Serious enough,” you answered vaguely. “I managed it, but… I’m still recovering.” You forced your shoulders to square, as though you could physically straighten your resolve. “Do we have the morning’s patient lists ready?”

Elira didn’t press further—perhaps sensing you weren’t ready to talk. She offered a tentative smile and said, “I’ll sort the files. You should rest, even if just for a few minutes.” There was kindness in her voice, a gentle understanding that you were carrying more than you cared to say.

Rest. The suggestion sounded laughable. There was no rest in sight, not with the secret you held, not with Azriel’s bandages and salves waiting for you at the House of Wind. But you nodded anyway, grateful for Elira’s compassion. “Thank you, but I need to tend to something first,” you managed, grateful that she didn’t look offended. Instead, she nodded and moved toward the record room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

For a moment, you lingered by the door, one hand still on the frame. The clinic hummed softly as healers arrived, exchanging greetings, setting up their stations. Usually, this hum would soothe you, give you purpose. Today, it only reminded you that you were somewhere you once felt safe—somewhere you now felt oddly displaced.

You inhaled, drawing in the scent of herbs and polished wood. It was time to go back. Time to face Azriel again, to apply the ointment and ensure his recovery progressed smoothly. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of dread and longing. How would you act in his presence now? Would he sense the shift in your energy, even unconscious as he was?

Stepping out into the crisp morning, you let the door close gently behind you. The sound of the city waking up drifted through the streets—vendors setting out their wares, the faint laughter of children, distant footfalls of those heading to their day’s work. You pulled your cloak tighter, the weight of your responsibilities and secrets pressing against your shoulders.

With determined strides, you set off toward the House of Wind, each step both too quick and not quick enough. You wanted to get this over with, to fulfill your duties, to reassure yourself that he was alive and healing—and yet every pace brought you closer to him, and to the golden bond you didn’t know how to handle.

In the rising daylight, Velaris shimmered with quiet beauty. Its peace mocked your turmoil, but you kept walking, forging ahead, praying the trembling in your chest would ease before you reached the High Lord’s halls and the wounded spymaster waiting within.

With quiet steps, you entered Azriel’s room at the House of Wind. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the space in pale gold. You had your supplies in hand—a jar of ointment and fresh bandages, carefully prepared in the clinic’s familiar hush. Your heart gave a nervous flutter at the thought of approaching him again, but duty called, and you pushed forward, easing the door open with a soft creak.

At first, you saw only Azriel’s still form, cocooned in blankets, his wings carefully arranged to avoid pressure on his healing injuries. His dark hair fell over his forehead, his lashes resting against his cheeks. He looked peaceful, his pain soothed by rest and the remedies you’d applied before dawn.

But then your gaze caught movement. Someone else was here—a young woman seated by his bedside, her head bowed slightly as if in prayer or silent plea. She had delicate features, long brown hair cascading around her shoulders. A gentle profile that, when she turned, revealed a face not unlike Feyre’s—similar bone structure, the same warm eyes, though softer in hue.

Your footsteps faltered. Your mind flashed with questions: Who was she? Why was she here? Azriel was asleep, unaware of your arrival. You swallowed hard, feeling the tension coil in your stomach. The golden thread of the bond still lingered in your mind, making the sight of this unknown woman’s hand resting lightly on Azriel’s arm feel like a knife twisting in your chest.

As you approached, the woman looked up, startled yet hopeful. You noticed the worry etched on her face, a sorrow and concern that spoke of care and affection. Without hesitation, she stood, moving gracefully toward you.

She offered a trembling smile, eyes bright with tears unshed. “You must be the healer,” she said, voice quiet and earnest. “I’m Elain. Elain Archeron.” Her gaze flickered to Azriel’s sleeping form, then back to you. “Feyre’s sister,” she added gently, as though knowing her connection might reassure you.

Elain reached for your arms in a gesture of gratitude and relief. Her touch was soft, tentative, but sincere. “Thank you,” she said, and her voice caught. “Thank you for saving him. I-I’ve only just heard what happened. If not for you, he might have…” She trailed off, unable or unwilling to complete the grim thought.

Your heart twisted at her obvious worry, and despite the turmoil inside you, you forced yourself to remain composed. She was worried for Azriel, nothing more. Any sting of jealousy or fear you felt was misplaced, you told yourself. You were here to help, to heal. That was all.

“I’m glad I could be there,” you managed, voice quiet. Your eyes drifted to Azriel’s face, the rise and fall of his chest steady and sure. “He’s stable now, and with proper care, he’ll recover.”

Elain’s grip tightened slightly on your arms, as if finding comfort in your words. “He means so much to all of us,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “We were afraid—” Another half-spoken fear cut short. She swallowed, releasing your arms and folding her hands together. “I won’t keep you from your work.”

You nodded, steeling yourself, and moved closer to the bedside. The world narrowed down to the tasks at hand: checking Azriel’s bandages, applying ointment, ensuring his wounds were clean and healing as intended. Behind you, Elain hovered, her presence a soft reminder that you were not the only one who cared about this man’s survival.

The ache in your chest remained, but you channeled it into precise, gentle care, grateful that Azriel slept on, oblivious for now to all the unspoken emotions filling the room.

As you carefully lifted Azriel’s wing to apply fresh ointment along the fragile membranes, the door opened. Looking up, you expected perhaps Feyre or Cassian, but it was Rhysand who stepped quietly inside. He halted at the sight of Elain, surprise flickering across his features. She stiffened, then dropped her gaze and slipped past him without a word, leaving the room as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her sudden departure hung in the silence, unanswered questions lingering in the space she vacated.

You remained focused on your work, smoothing the ointment gently and checking for any sign of infection. When you were done, you lowered Azriel’s wing back onto the soft padding you’d arranged. He stirred slightly, but remained in a healing sleep. The faint hiss of his steady breathing was the only sound until Rhysand approached, stopping a respectful distance away.

“How is he?” the High Lord asked, voice low. His violet eyes held concern and relief in equal measure—he clearly trusted you, but he needed reassurance. You wondered if it was strange for him to stand here, watching you care for one of his closest friends, after seeing how you worked miracles with moonlight just hours before.

You inclined your head, wiping your hands on a clean cloth. “His vitals are stable. The bleeding has ceased, the stitches and salves are holding up. He will heal, but it’s going to take time.” You glanced at the bandages, ensuring everything was in order. “For the next two or three weeks, he should be extremely careful. Any strain could reopen those wounds, especially where the wings are concerned. If he follows instructions, he should make a full recovery.”

Rhysand exhaled quietly, tension easing from his posture. “Thank you,” he said simply, yet the depth of gratitude in that single phrase was undeniable. He stepped closer, examining Azriel’s peaceful face, the neat wrappings. “I know you’ve done more than what could be expected.”

You offered a faint, professional smile. “He responded well to the treatments. I’ll check on him regularly. With proper rest and caution, he’ll be back on his feet soon.” You paused, hesitant, then added, “He might chafe at the restrictions. I trust you and the others can help ensure he doesn’t push himself too hard.”

A hint of wry amusement touched Rhysand’s lips. “Oh, that will be a battle,” he said, a spark of humor in his tone. “Azriel’s not exactly fond of lying in bed. But we’ll manage.”

As you turned away to rinse the cloth and reorganize your supplies, the High Lord lingered, watching over his friend. The hush in the room was gentler now, as if the worst of the night’s nightmares had passed. In the corridor outside, you heard distant murmurs—life carrying on in the House of Wind, even as Azriel slept through his healing pains.

In a few hours, you’d return with more salves, check the stitching again, monitor his temperature. The routine would help ground you, a steady path forward as you navigated your new role and the unsettling bond you’d discovered the night before. For now, Azriel’s safe and stable state was a small victory, one you both needed.

After you finished tending to Azriel and making certain he was resting comfortably, Rhysand gently guided you from the room. In silence, you followed him through the House of Wind, eventually arriving at his office. It was a spacious chamber lined with shelves full of books and maps, and a large window offered a breathtaking view of Velaris and the mountains beyond.

He gestured for you to sit in a chair opposite his desk and took his own seat with a measured elegance. You settled into the soft cushions, mind still churning with the events of the night before and the morning that followed. Rhysand allowed a brief moment of silence, his violet eyes studying you with calm interest. You appreciated the courtesy he afforded you—allowing you to compose yourself, if only for a breath.

“There is some business we need to discuss,” he began quietly, resting his forearms on the desk’s smooth surface. “Specifically, Illyria.”

Your heart sank a fraction, remembering the plight of the Illyrian females. The clipping of their wings, a barbaric tradition meant to keep them grounded, powerless, had long stained the culture of the mountain camps. Anyone who’d lived in the Night Court knew about it—knew the cruelty it entailed. It made your stomach knot, the injustice of it all. But Rhysand’s gaze was steady, his tone matter-of-fact. He didn’t need to explain the tradition or its brutality to you. You already knew.

He continued, “We’ve made strides in changing policies and punishing those who practice clipping, but traditions die hard. There’s a deep-seated reluctance in some of the camps to embrace new methods, to trust outside help. And while we can enforce laws, people need more than punishment—they need healing. Not just in body, but in mind and culture.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the layers to his request. Illyria was a complex knot of pride, pain, and ingrained habits. Simply banning clipping hadn’t eradicated it overnight. Change would require education, trust, and time. As a healer, you might wield some influence. Heal their wounds, show them better ways, and perhaps, over time, their hearts could soften.

“You’re aware of the situation,” Rhysand acknowledged, reading your thoughtful silence. “I know you’ve only recently returned and you have your hands full with Azriel’s recovery and the transition of your role. Still, I must ask: would you be willing, sometime in the coming week, to travel to Winghaven? Begin there. Examine their current medical facilities—or lack thereof—and train some of their healers. Introduce new methods. Show them what can be done, especially for those who’ve suffered under these old customs.”

You caught his eyes, the sincerity and gravity in them. This wasn’t a small favor. It was a step in a long journey of reform. “I know Winghaven,” you said quietly. “They have rudimentary healers, but nothing on par with Velaris. The conditions are… difficult.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “Indeed. Start there, build rapport, and then move on to the other camps in the following weeks. A thorough evaluation, some training sessions, maybe even demonstrations of advanced healing techniques. Whatever you think might help them trust and adopt new methods.”

Your pulse fluttered, considering what this meant. You’d travel again, but within the Night Court’s borders this time, extending the reach of your healing and knowledge to places that desperately needed it. It was daunting, but also a chance to enact real change. Madja had chosen you not just to heal wounds, but to heal a culture’s mindset if possible. This could be the first step in doing just that.

“I can do it,” you answered softly, your voice firming as you spoke. “I’ll need a day or two to prepare. I should bring some portable tools, samples of herbs, and notes to leave behind. And I’ll finish stabilizing Azriel’s condition, make sure everything here is organized before I leave.”

A hint of relief, and perhaps admiration, touched Rhysand’s features. “Thank you,” he said. “I won’t pretend this will be easy. You may face skepticism, even hostility. But we’ve set certain laws in place—call on them if you must. Cassian, in particular, is familiar with Winghaven and can advise you on how to approach certain leaders.”

At the mention of Cassian, you nodded again, making a mental note to consult him. His insight could help navigate the subtle power dynamics and stubborn pride of Illyrian warriors.

You exhaled slowly, embracing the weight of your new mission. Healing was never just about wounds. It was about hearts, minds, and cultures. It was about offering better ways to live, even to those who resisted. You’d do what you could, and hopefully, over time, your efforts would take root.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make a difference,” you promised, voice steady despite the uncertainty that loomed ahead.

Rhysand’s smile was small but genuine, a touch of warmth breaking through the High Lord’s composed demeanor. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

The hush of the office fractured abruptly by muffled commotion from down the hall. Your conversation with Rhysand froze mid-sentence, both of you snapping your heads toward the door. There was a look in his violet eyes—concern and a steeled readiness—that mirrored your own. In a heartbeat, you rose from your chair, following him at a brisk pace down the corridor.

The sounds led you back to Azriel’s room. The door stood ajar, and you entered to find Elain near the bed, wringing her hands, her face stricken with alarm. Azriel lay on the mattress, his breathing ragged, his skin flushing and mottled as if reacting violently to something.

Elain’s voice quavered, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she pleaded, voice trembling. “He seemed uncomfortable, in pain, and I just thought—my salve… I didn’t know—”

Your heart pounded with a hot surge of anger. This was exactly why you insisted on careful protocols and avoiding any unapproved treatments. “What were you thinking?” you snapped, too concerned to temper your tone. “Applying something else without knowing its properties? Mixing plants can cause severe reactions!” Your voice cracked through the tension in the room, startling her.

Elain’s lower lip trembled as she retreated a step. She looked horrified and remorseful, but you had no time for comforting her now. Azriel jerked under the covers, his wings twitching fitfully. You needed to move fast.

“Get out,” you ordered, pointing to the door. Your command was clipped, professional, but unyielding. Elain let out a small sob and stumbled back, leaving the room in a blur of skirts and regret.

Azriel’s breath came in short, pained pants, his eyes half-lidded. You tossed your head toward Rhysand. “I need you to hold him down,” you said urgently, dropping to your knees beside the bed and flinging open your medical kit. “If he thrashes, he’ll make it worse. I must flush this foreign salve from his system.”

Rhysand stepped forward without hesitation. His presence, calm and contained, would help keep Azriel still. With a nod, he took position near Azriel’s shoulders, pressing down firmly but gently, careful not to aggravate existing wounds. Az let out a ragged moan, wings scraping restlessly against the blankets.

Your hands moved quickly, selecting herbs and tools you’d never intended to use twice in one day. You measured doses with exacting care, mentally reviewing which compounds countered which toxins, which would draw out the harmful concoction Elain had unwittingly introduced. The scent of your preparations soon filled the air—bitter, pungent, but necessary.

Biting your lip, you applied a cleansing solution around the affected areas, your fingertips deft and gentle despite your racing pulse. Rhysand’s voice was quiet, murmuring something soothing to Azriel, trying to keep him calm. Your own heart ached to see him like this, so vulnerable and in pain, especially after what he had already endured. But you banished the ache and focused on your role as healer.

The minutes stretched thin. You worked methodically, using a special wash to neutralize the reaction, applying cool compresses to reduce inflammation. Outside the room, you could still sense Elain’s presence in the hall, her quiet weeping. You pushed that distraction aside, refusing to look anywhere but Azriel’s face and the wounds you tended.

“Stay with me, Azriel,” you whispered as you worked, your tone softer now, though he might not be lucid enough to understand. “I’ve got you.”

Behind you, Rhysand’s gaze bore into your back, silent trust and support emanating from him. He kept his hold steady, ensuring Azriel didn’t thrash off the mattress and disrupt the delicate mending you were attempting.

Slowly, the color in Azriel’s cheeks began to normalize, the flush fading as the compounds took hold. His breathing, labored and strained, began to even out, shallow gasps replaced by steadier inhalations. It would take time, more careful applications, but you could see the signs of the countermeasures working.

It wasn’t over yet, but you’d gained precious ground. You adjusted your grip on another vial, heart pounding with renewed determination. You wouldn’t let him slip away, not now, not after everything.

“Hold him just a moment longer,” you said to Rhysand, voice steady once more. “I’m almost done.”

Once you were certain Azriel’s condition had stabilized, you stepped out of the room, still breathing heavily from the tension of your work. You found Elain in the corridor, lingering where you’d left her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tear tracks staining her cheeks, her posture slumped with remorse. But right now, you were too furious, too rattled by the near catastrophe, to offer comfort.

You closed the distance between you and her in quick strides, the echo of your footsteps making her flinch. “What were you thinking?” you demanded, voice low and tight. “You are no healer, Elain. You had no right—no right—to apply anything without my approval.”

“I-I was just trying to help,” Elain stammered, voice quavering. Her hands twisted in her skirts, knuckles turning white. “He looked like he was in pain, and I had this salve that’s helped me before—”

“Stop,” you cut in sharply, and she recoiled as if struck. “This isn’t about your intentions. It’s about what could have happened. I’ve seen lives lost because someone thought they knew better than the professionals. A bad mix of herbs, a plant reacting poorly with other treatments—and a patient dies. You could have killed him.”

Tears welled again in her eyes, her breath coming in shaky gasps. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

You tightened your jaw, fighting to keep your emotions from spilling over into cruelty. “I don’t care who you are to him, or what you think you can do. Right now, Azriel is my patient. My priority is saving his life, not sparing your feelings. And if you ever pull a stunt like that again…” Your voice trailed off ominously, anger vibrating in your throat.

“Elain,” came a quiet voice from behind you. Rhysand’s hand settled gently on your shoulder, the subtle pressure a reminder that you’d made your point. You breathed in slowly through your nose, attempting to calm the fire in your blood.

Elain looked at Rhysand as if searching for reprieve, but found little. His face was composed, yet stern. “It’s best you return to the townhouse,” he said calmly. “We cannot afford any more risks to Azriel’s recovery. Until he’s better—fully better—I’m afraid you’re not allowed in the House of Wind.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, shoulders slumping further. With a trembling nod, Elain turned away, tears still glistening on her cheeks. She moved off down the corridor, footsteps fading into silence.

You let out a shaky breath, shoulders still tight with residual fury and fear. Rhysand’s hand remained on your shoulder a moment longer, a silent token of understanding. When he removed it, you stood there, heart pounding, your mind already shifting back to Azriel’s condition. He was stable for now, but you would have to keep a closer eye on him than ever.

No more unnecessary risks. No more interference. Not while his life hung in the balance and your responsibility, as his healer, demanded unwavering vigilance.

———

Back at the clinic, the familiar hum of voices and quiet steps on wooden floors welcomed you like a gentle embrace. You’d returned not long ago, having decided you wouldn’t check on Azriel again until the next day. He was stable, and after the emotional whirlwind of the morning, you needed to focus on your other duties, regain your footing in the place that felt most under your control.

The other healers had noticed your tension, though none had dared comment openly. But as dusk settled, while sorting through jars of herbs in the storage room, you found yourself beside Elira—the same young healer who had noticed your fatigue earlier. She had a careful way about her, kind but never intrusive, and you appreciated her steady presence.

She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, tightening the string around a bundle of dried leaves. “Everything all right?” she asked softly, as if testing the waters. “You seem… troubled.”

You exhaled slowly, considering how much to share. “There was an incident,” you admitted, voice low. “I had to step in this morning to save someone who was already on the mend.” You paused, picking through lavender stems. “Let’s just say someone interfered with the treatment, and it nearly cost him dearly.”

Elira’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds serious. Did they mean harm?”

You shook your head, remembering Elain’s tearful face. “No, I think she meant well. But intentions aren’t enough. She mixed treatments without understanding the consequences.” The words tasted bitter, like you were defending your anger yet again. You looked at Elira more directly. “I might have been harsh, but… there was a real risk.”

Elira nodded slowly, a knowing sympathy in her gaze. “It’s never easy when outsiders meddle. Most don’t realize how delicate the balance is, or how small a mistake can undo hours of careful work.”

You busied yourself with organizing a stack of bandages. “What’s harder is… I’m curious about who she was to him. The patient, I mean.” The admission made you feel exposed, but you pressed on. “I know she’s related to the High Lady—her sister, Elain. But what about her relationship to him?” You pursed your lips, scanning Elira’s face for any sign of judgment. “I can’t help it,” you added softly, as if apologizing for your curiosity. “I saw the way she looked at him, how worried she was. It… made me wonder.”

Elira seemed thoughtful. “I’ve only heard rumors,” she said carefully. “He’s one of the High Lord’s closest advisors, part of that inner circle. They’re all very… intertwined. Friends, allies, perhaps more sometimes. Elain is well-known as someone gentle, kind, a bit shy. She’s close to all of them, I think. There’s talk that Azriel and Elain… share a bond, but nothing confirmed.” She shrugged lightly. “You know how rumors are.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting. A bond. The word reverberated in your mind, tangling with your own secret discovery. Could it be that you weren’t the only one feeling something unexpected? Or perhaps Elira had it wrong, and it was merely idle gossip. Regardless, your heartbeat fluttered nervously at the thought.

“I’m not one for gossip,” you said evenly. “I just… I need to understand the dynamics so I can navigate these situations better in the future.”

Elira gave you a small smile. “Don’t fret too much. Relationships in that inner circle are complicated, from what I’ve gathered. All you need to focus on is healing and doing what you do best. The rest will fall into place, or so I’ve learned over the years. Fate has a way of showing us truths when we’re ready.”

You pressed the bandages into a neat stack, forcing a steady breath. “You’re right. I shouldn’t get tangled in their personal affairs.” But even as you spoke the words, you knew the tangled knot in your chest was not so easily undone. If a bond truly existed—be it gossip or reality—you’d have to face it in your own way, in your own time.

For now, you settled for the comfort of the clinic’s routine, and the quiet solidarity of another healer who understood that sometimes, wanting answers was part of the human—fae—condition. You’d return to Azriel the next day, as promised, focusing on his recovery and ignoring, for a few hours more, the silent questions that thrummed under your skin.

Night had fully fallen, and the hush that blanketed Velaris seemed deeper than usual. In your small apartment above the clinic, a lamp cast a gentle glow over the modest furnishings. You sat curled on your couch, cradled under a thick cover, a warm cup of tea balanced on your knee and a book open in your other hand. The scent of chamomile and honey rose with the steam, comforting and mild.

A soft, muffled tap came from the window. You paused your reading, glancing up just in time to see Ydil—the eagle who’d followed you through countless journeys—perched on the sill. His feathers ruffled slightly in the night breeze, and his keen eyes shone with recognition. Without hesitation, you set the book aside and rose to open the window. The chill of the winter air nipped at your cheeks as Ydil hopped inside, letting out a small, happy sound—a rough, throaty chirr of delight.

You closed the window with care, sealing out the cold. Ydil nudged at you with his head, as if in greeting, his beak gently tapping your arm. The affection was unmistakable, and a tender smile curved your lips. “Hello, old friend,” you murmured quietly, stroking the smooth feathers along his neck. He had traveled with you through distant courts and unknown lands, watching over you as you honed your healing craft, bearing witness to triumphs and losses. Now, here he was, comforting you in this new chapter of your life.

You settled back onto the couch, rearranging the cover so that it would fall partly over your lap and leave room for Ydil. He hopped closer, tucking himself beside you with a small flutter of wings, drawn to your warmth and the promise of quiet companionship. The lamp’s glow highlighted the subtle patterns in his feathers, the soft shine in his dark eyes. He was safe here, as were you.

Reclaiming your mug, you took a slow sip of tea, the sweet warmth settling in your chest. The book rested on your lap, its pages waiting patiently for your attention. But for a moment, you just breathed, listening to Ydil’s faint rustle as he positioned himself more comfortably, feeling the soft weight of the blanket, and smelling the gentle floral notes of your tea.

Outside, the night carried on in hushed whispers. The starlight and the faint hum of distant laughter from the city below reminded you that life went on, despite all your questions and uncertainties. You would face them—tomorrow, the next day, whenever fate demanded. For now, you had this peaceful moment: a warm couch, a loyal companion, a cup of tea, and the quiet promise that you weren’t alone, not tonight.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. One moment you were reading, the gentle rustling of Ydil’s feathers at your side, the soft lamplight glowing over the pages of your book; the next, your eyelids grew too heavy, and your mind drifted into a gentle haze. The mug in your hand grew tepid, and the words on the page blurred. By the time your book slipped from your grasp and settled lightly against your lap, you were already lost in quiet slumber.

Ydil noticed immediately. With a soft, rustling sound, he slipped out from under the cover. The eagle cocked his head, studying your face as though ensuring you were truly at peace. You looked so tired—no wonder you had succumbed so easily after the long, restless night before.

He hopped lightly onto the arm of the couch, where the lamp rested on a small side table. Balancing his weight with delicate precision, Ydil stretched out and pressed the lamp’s switch with his beak. The soft glow vanished, leaving only the faint silver gleam of moonlight filtering through the window. In that gentle darkness, the world felt hushed, a cocoon of calm around you both.

Carefully, the eagle tugged at the blanket’s edge with his beak. Bit by bit, he pulled it higher until it covered your shoulders, ensuring you would remain warm against the night’s chill. Satisfied, he settled himself beside you again, his head turning as if listening to your steady breathing.

Ydil tucked his wings close, sharing the silence and stillness. Outside, Velaris slept, stars glittering softly in the winter sky. Inside, the quiet companionship of bird and healer spun a fragile moment of comfort—no demands, no urgent calls to duty, no doubts hovering at the edge of your mind. Just rest, and the gentle presence of an old friend looking after you in the deep hush of the night.

----

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

tag list : @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @bravo-delta-eccho @messageforthesmallestman @celestialgilb @tiredsleepyhead @annamariereads16 @arcanefeelingz @fuckingsimp4azriel @adventure-awaits13 @diaouranask @rcarbo1 @6v6babycheese @goodvibesonlyxd @sa54va87to90re12 @firefly-forest @babypeapoddd @hailqueenconquer @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @judig92 @pinklemonade34 @sourapplex @wickedshadowsinger @shinyghosteclipse

#azriel fic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar fanart #acotar #rhysand #azriel acotar #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #feyre #elain

149 notes · View notes

covenofagatha · 5 hours ago

Text

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 5)

Agatha takes you back to her house after the realization that you may have been responsible for the recent murders

Word count: 5200

Warnings: murder, purposeful thumb dislocation, violence

A/N: this got so long so fast so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts so as of right now I'm planning for 3 more parts

You can’t stop your teeth from chattering as you slide into the passenger seat of Agatha’s car. She followed you back to the motel so you could leave yours there, her headlights shining onto you the entire time, reminding you that she was right behind you.

Her lingering presence is ominous, rather than comforting. You just can’t put your finger on why.

You’re not cold. The opposite, really. Your body is running hot, perspiration gathering on your forehead, but you’re shaking like a leaf. She turns up the heat, but you immediately reach over and turn it off.

“I didn’t do it,” you say, but you’re not even sure if you believe it yourself.

Agatha snorts. “Still think you’re being framed by The Witch and Lady Death?” She asks, and your heart spikes. Rio and her have been talking. Perhaps this whole time. Does she also know her wife drugged you?

“Maybe,” you try to argue, but you know it’s just false hope at this point. How would they have gotten his blood under your nails?

But how could you have killed him? You were completely unconscious the whole time.

The knife from your motel found at the crime scene. Rio washing your clothes and being secretive about what was on them. And now this.

You know you used to sleep-walk, but is sleep-murder a possibility?

“Why did you want me to see it first?” You question, now latching onto something else. Agatha is a detective, she should’ve called the rest of the squad as well as you.

Does she know more than she’s letting on?

I’m just curious about something is what Rio said as she watched you succumb to sleep.

What is going on?

Agatha’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and you’re momentarily distracted by remembering what they felt like inside you. Her fingers, Rio’s mouth, together? “Just wanted to see how you’d react,” she finally says, and it snaps you out of your fantasy about them.

“Rio drugged me earlier,” you tell her, watching her face closely for any sign of recognition or confusion.

She remains neutral. “Oh?”

You grit your teeth. They are both so good at keeping their cards to their chests. “Neither of you think I’m being framed. You seemed pretty certain that the body from yesterday wasn’t from them, that it was someone new.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I killed both of them?”

You’re not capable of that. There’s no possible way you did. But you want to hear what she thinks.

“I think,” she pauses to choose her words carefully. “I think that I believe you when you say you think you didn’t do it.”

“I couldn’t have,” you say weakly, needing more than anything for it to be true.

She glances at you with pity. “We all think we couldn’t. People can surprise you.” The look on her face matches the darkness outside. Is she speaking from experience?

The drawer opens and your fingers wrap around the handle of one of the knives.

“I didn’t do it,” you insist.

You park by the woods and ask the first man you see for help finding your dog who ran into the trees. He’s wearing a flannel and pants, and has the most brilliant blue eyes.

Agatha reaches over to pat your leg.

The kitchen knife cuts his legs surprisingly well and he slumps back against the trees, blood rushing from his wounds. You get immense pleasure in watching the cerulean in his eyes fade. But it’s not enough. You want to send a message: a heart on his chest. A nod to the shape drawn on the sticky note from The Witch and Lady Death, and to their calling card.

A whimper tears its way out of your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth. Agatha hears it and looks over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, superstar?”

Your head is spinning. Are these memories real, or not real? Is your mind playing tricks on you?

The femoral arteries were too quick, too easy. You need something more. It’s only too easy to lure this man into the woods.

“I don’t know,” you gasp out. You’re hyperventilating now. You were supposed to protect this town, stop the killers, but instead, you became one.

Plunging the knife into his throat sent a thrill like you’ve never felt before tingling down your spine. You drag it down, grunting with the effort, but the blood pours out and you’re breathless. The red on the white snow is almost angelic.

What have you done?

Memories, dreams, images, whatever they are, come rushing into your brain, almost completely overwhelming you.

You killed them.

Were you really unconscious, or were you just erasing the memories to protect yourself?

But you were asleep, at least at first. Did you wake up and decide to go on a murder spree? How does that even happen?

“Pull over,” you demand. Agatha scoffs but you say it again, more sternly. Your entire body feels awful and you know what’s about to come.

Thankfully she obeys, and the second her car screeches to a halt, you’re throwing open the door and barely making it two steps away before you double-over and retch, puking your guts out. It burns your throat and your lungs ache, but it feels like you’re cleansing your body.

Agatha quickly runs over to you and holds back your hair while you continue to vomit. She rubs gentle circles on your back and then you’re finally able to stand up and breathe normally.

“Did you know after the first one?” You say, wiping your mouth and turning to face her.

She shrugs, but there’s an affirmative glint in her eyes. “Figured you were bound to snap eventually. Didn’t realize how drastic it would be until Rio told me about the bloody clothes you had her wash.”

You’d throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach. She

But she’s not done yet.

“And then we got the call about the body with all the blood and I had a hunch. But you not knowing anything gave me a bit of pause,” she admits, swiping her thumb on your lip affectionately. “Thought you were just a really good actor. But then you said you’d been sleeping for the past few hours, so I wondered.”

You cough, still tasting acid. Things still aren’t adding up. She fucked you after thinking you murdered someone? “Why didn’t you turn me in?” Not complaining exactly, but why have they been holding onto this? “Is that why Rio drugged me? She wanted to see if…I’d what? Murder someone else?”

Agatha tilts her head back and forth, like she’s partly agreeing, and you back up from her, the gears in your brain turning. She gives you a look as if to say Really? and starts advancing towards you. You put your hands out to stop her and flinch, and she freezes.

“If you’re feeling better, get back in the car,” she orders, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. She takes one more step and stops an inch away from you, eyebrow raised like she’s anticipating your next move, and you gulp before obeying. “Good girl,” she says in a low voice, closing the door on you, and you hate the way your body betrays you.

She gets into the driver’s seat and locks the doors and it makes your heart lurch. Why do you feel so unsafe right now?

The key gets turned in the ignition but the car won’t start. “Fuck,” Agatha swears, turning it again and again. Panic starts to climb and settle into every crack and crevice in your body; what if you have to spend the night with Agatha on the side of the road?

What if you fall asleep and accidentally kill her?

Is that something you do now? Can you just never sleep for the rest of your life?

The engine finally clicks and turns on, just taking a bit longer in the snow. But Agatha is almost out of gas, so she pulls into the next gas station she finds on the way to her house.

“Have you eaten?” She asks gruffly, something seemingly changed in the air between you.

The moment she brings up food, your stomach grumbles. You can’t remember the last time you ate. Tony would kill you, if you had heard from him at all. It’s weird he hasn’t called you back yet. Unfortunately, you have been sleeping though. You’re not sure if he would be proud.

Agatha gets out of the car and slams the door and you quickly scramble out too. “We’ll go get you something to eat after I’m done filling up.”

“I can just run in now,” you offer, desperately needing a moment to yourself. You can’t breathe next to Agatha right now.

She scoffs and presses the pump into her car. “You’re a mess, superstar. I can’t risk you confessing to her about what you’ve done, or worse.”

You bite back a sarcastic comment, still weary of her mood shift, and you tap your foot until the pump stops. She follows you into the station, watching carefully as you pick up a slice of pizza from the hot food area. You snag a drink and walk to the cash register, where a woman is snapping her gum.

“Hi,” you say politely, putting your stuff down. Agatha’s hot breath is on your neck. “Oh, and can I get these too?” You quickly slap down a container of cinnamon mints.

She looks you up and down, and winks. “On the house,” she says and Agatha steps even closer to you. The cashier’s eyes flicker to her. “Anything for your mom?”

Agatha practically growls behind you and yanks your head back by your hair so she’s able to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You try to pull away in shock, but she holds you there and slides her tongue into your mouth. You can still taste the little flap of skin from where you bit her when she fucked you.

After she’s sufficiently stolen all the air from your lungs, she stops and grabs your pizza and drink from the counter. “Come, pet,” she says in a low voice that makes you hotly tingle all over and you make brief eye contact with the cashier, who looks severely taken aback. You wonder if you look as flushed as you feel.

“Sorry about that,” you say sheepishly, face hot, and slap a ten dollar bill on the counter, scampering after Agatha. “What the fuck was that?” You call after her, and she whirls around, face contorted into something scary.

“Get. In. The. Car,” she demands, seething, anger radiating off her in waves and almost knocking you back.

There’s silence the rest of the way to her house as you eat your pizza. It’s a cute two-story house, hedges trimmed neatly out front, and another car in the driveway.

Your heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Rio again, at the thought of dealing with them together.

What are you doing here? Are they going to blackmail you? What could they want from you?

You trail Agatha to the front door and then into the kitchen, where Rio is trimming a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Yellow, blue, red, and a flash of purple.

Brows furrowing, you try to get a closer look but Rio steps to the side, unknowingly blocking your view.

“Hey, Aggie,” she says, her back still to you. The glimpse into domesticity and the nicknames makes you feel a longing pang inside you.

In the past, girls had been too put off by your line of work, by your fascination with female serial killers, even by the scar on your stomach. You just wanted someone that could accept every part of you.

Agatha walks over, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entrance, and presses a kiss to Rio’s cheek, murmuring something in her ear. Rio’s body stiffens and she turns around, a wide grin stretching over her face when she sees you.

“Welcome, doll,” she says and you fight the urge to run away. She motions to a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the stove. “Want one?”

You don’t budge. “Did you poison them too?”

Rio’s head tosses back with a laugh and Agatha smirks bemusedly. “Touché,” Rio says, grabs one, and chomps on it. She brushes her hands free on the crumbs once she’s done and holds them up to show you that she didn’t lace them.

“What am I doing here?” You ask, wanting to cut to the chase. There’s some ulterior motive, one you just don’t know of yet.

Both of them beckon you to follow them into the living room. They sit on the couch and you sit in the chair facing them.

“‘What am I doing here?’” Agatha mocks in a deep voice and you roll your eyes.

Rio takes all of you in, eyes flicking up and down your body several times. “Such a trivial question. Why don’t you ask something better than that?”

You think about it for a moment. What do you really want to know? “Did I kill those men?”

“Boring. Ask something you don’t already know the answer to,” Rio criticizes and your cheeks burn.

“Why did I?” It comes out quieter than you intended, your voice breaking.

The two of them finally look interested. “Why do you think?” Rio asks, ever the therapist.

“I…don’t know,” you say lamely.

Agatha snorts. “Come on, superstar, we know you’re smarter than that. Use that brilliant brain of yours.”

Knife from the drawer. Slicing through fabric to cut the arteries. Hearing a squelching sound when you plunge it into the chin.

Blood.

More blood.

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts.

You jolt. Fire? “I think…” You trail off, feeling shaken by the new revelation. Is the fire something that happened in the past, or something that’s about to come?

“Yeah?” Agatha whispers, leaning forward.

You try to search your head for the answer. “I think I wanted to know what it felt like,” you say slowly, testing the words on your tongue, still not completely sure if they’re right.

You’re remembering more of the murders, remembering being in a trance-like haze when you woke up, getting into your car, coming back to the room after, stripping naked from the bloodstained clothes and scrubbing your skin in the shower until it stung. And then laying back down.

Some sort of psychosis? Or just your unconscious mind fulfilling one of your darkest fantasies?

Rio’s breath hitches. “And? How did it feel?”

“It felt…powerful,” you say, and you know what the feeling in the woods with Agatha was now. It was the feeling of taking in your own work, seeing what you had done, somehow remembering the feeling even when you didn’t remember doing it.

Agatha licks her lips, her eyes dark. “Holding their life in your hands, it’s a sensation like no other. That control makes you feel like a god, doesn’t it?”

The way she phrases it sounds like she knows how it feels. How could she?

Can you brush it off to her being a detective? Surely she’s had to make a decision like that once in her career, but there’s a nagging in the back of your mind that is sounding alarm bells.

You cautiously look back and forth between them, between their faces with an indescribable hunger, and things start to come together.

The Witch and Lady Death.

Lovers, two brunettes, one thinner and taller, the other shorter and fuller. Just like Rio and Agatha.

Both Agatha and Rio were so convinced that there was a different killer.

Both Agatha and Rio knew that you killed someone, even before you did, yet neither of them made any effort to get you in trouble.

If anything, they pushed you to do it again.

Rio said she wasn’t The Witch, but you hadn’t asked if she was Lady Death.

Which means…

Agatha is The Witch. Rio is Lady Death. And you’re in their home, with both of them.

It’s ingenious though, really. Being the lead detective on a case trying to catch yourself, able to throw a wrench into any leads that the squad may happen to get.

That must be why she was so nitpicky with all your theories. She knew all the right details the entire time.

Although, it never really seemed like she was shooting you down, it was almost like she was guiding you.

Did she want you to catch them?

And Rio, being your therapist to find out more about you, get inside your head and understand how the profiler on their case thinks.

You’d almost be impressed if you weren’t scared for your life right now.

The only question is: why?

Why murder all those people? Why break into your motel room and leave you all that stuff? Why help you in catching them, if that’s truly what they’ve been doing?

Why not just kill you already? Unless that’s what they’re planning on doing tonight.

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” You ask, praying they can’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

They’re both regarding you with careful looks. “Second door on the left,” Agatha says, pointing down a hallway. You nervously smile and try to walk normally out of sight.

Just make it to the bathroom, you chant. Then you can text Tony, text the police chief, text anybody. If you can keep up the pretenses, you might be able to hang on until reinforcements come.

But as you’re walking by the first room on the left, you see that the door is ajar ever the slightest.

You shouldn’t. You should go to the bathroom and get help. You absolutely should not open this door.

It creaks as you push it open and you stop breathing, waiting to hear footsteps or one of them asking if you’re okay.

Nothing.

The door is open just wide enough for you to slip in now, and you can’t help the loud gasp that escapes your mouth.

Purple azaleas are in a vase on the table, along with vials upon vials. Information about every single person in Westview on one wall, red circles highlighting either victims or a list.

But what’s most startling is the shrine they have for you on the big wall. Pictures of you, case files, every piece of information accessible that concerns you is plastered there.

They know exactly who you are. They’ve known.

Fighting the nausea that climbs into your throat, you step closer. There’s something that draws your attention in the bottom left area, a medical record with your name on it from Salem, Massachusetts almost fifteen years ago. You don’t remember ever being in the hospital when you lived there.

You bend down to see what it says and

Snow.

The frozen creek.

Laughter and red birds when you step on a stick.

The person whirls around, long dark hair flipping with the momentum, blue eyes cutting through the darkness.

Fire. Sparks fly and land at your feet, hissing in the snow.

“Well, well, well,” a voice says behind you and you spin so fast you almost fall over. Agatha and Rio are standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

But you don’t care about that.

Because the woman from your memory has a name now.

“It was you,” you accuse, jabbing a finger towards Agatha. The face in the flashes was a bit younger, but you’d know her anywhere now.

A cold feeling sinks into you when she bares her teeth in a smile. “I see my wife’s techniques have been efficient.”

Your head starts to pound. “How…?”

“Why don’t we go back into the living room and we can talk about this?” Rio suggests gently.

“So you can kill me?” You spit, completely disoriented. How did you know Agatha fifteen years ago? Why didn’t you remember?

What did she do to you?

Agatha scoffs. “Really, you think if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be dead already? Honey, we could’ve had your heart the instant you stepped into town.”

Your hand grabbles at your belt, trying to grab onto the gun that isn’t there.

Fuck.

You ran out of your room in such a hurry earlier that you forgot to grab it.

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, trying to sound even the slightest bit braver than you feel. You fail.

“We want you to join us,” Rio says, being uncharacteristically straight forward. “We see you and what you’re capable of. We’ve known it. We want you, all of you.”

You shake your head. “No, absolutely fucking not. You two are crazy. I don’t know how you know me, or what happened in the woods all those years ago, but I would rather die than kill more people with you.”

They both sigh like they were afraid you’d say that. They start to walk over to you and you feel prey being stalked, being hunted.

“What are you–”

Agatha shushes you. “You’re just confused, superstar. But don’t worry. We’ll give you some time to think about it.”

And then they grab you and drag you kicking and screaming upstairs into their bedroom.

This is it. This is how you’re going to die.

“Wait, wait!” You scream as they throw you onto their bed. “I’ll do it.” You can pretend, you can make them think you want it until you can get out.

Rio bends over and grabs your chin, scanning your teary eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re an FBI profiler and you’re still such a bad liar,” she tuts, roughly pushing your face away.

Your body goes numb while they stretch your arms out and pull handcuffs – real handcuffs – from the nightstands and cuff you to the bedposts.

Agatha smirks and waves the key in front of your face and you snap at it with your teeth. She chuckles darkly and puts it on the nightstand, just out of reach.

“We’ll be back later, pet,” she says. “We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them, and then The Witch and Lady Death are going to strike again.”

Rio cackles and then picks up the bottom half of her skeleton mask and holds it to her face, widening her eyes at you. You strain against the handcuffs until they sting your wrist but you don’t stop struggling as they walk out of the room and close the door behind them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You are absolutely reeling. You met Agatha when you were ten years old. Something happened, something with fire? And the medical file from then, is that related?

It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here now, working on a case in which she’s a killer.

What happened that made you want to think like a killer? It’s the question that Rio asked when you first met her, that she swore she didn’t but now you think she was just fucking with you.

You didn’t know the reason, couldn’t remember it at the time, but that was what made you start having these flashes of repressed memories.

Is Agatha the reason?

Did you see her kill someone at ten years old, but then your brain blocked it out because it was too traumatic? And then you spent the rest of your life determined to figure out what made her do that?

It seems to make sense.

It still doesn’t answer the real question as to what they want with you, and why they went through all this trouble.

But you’re not going to find anything else tied up in their bed.

The Basic Field Training Course at Quantico taught you several important things, like how to fire a gun and how to read a person’s posture and how to solve a case. But perhaps the most valuable lesson to you now was learned from a classmate, who taught you how to dislocate your thumb.

Jimmy Woo had dislocated his thumb twice during lacrosse in high school so he could now do it whenever he wanted. It still hurt obviously, but the damage was less serious, it was easier to dislocate, and it was much easier to pop back in.

All it took for him to teach you was a six pack of beer. You didn’t know exactly why you were so set on being able to, but you couldn’t be happier now.

You remember the first time you did it. It had taken four shots of vodka to get your courage up before bending it back on a table. The ligaments had strained, not wanting to give, but through sweat and tears, you had persisted.

Jimmy immediately took you to the clinic to get it wrapped up and you told them you had done it while throwing a ball with Jimmy.

You’d only done it a few more times, but it got to the point where you could do it with minimal crying and could relocate it by yourself.

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck your chin down to grab ahold of your sweater between your teeth to have something to bite down before positioning your left thumb against the bedpost. Better to do it with your non-dominant hand, Jimmy always said.

You can almost hear him encouraging you as tears spill down your cheeks and your whimpers are muffled.

Pressing harder, a slight sheen of perspiration breaks out on your head. Fuck, you’d forgotten how much it hurts.

Finally, finally, there’s the desired pop and pain floods up your hand. It almost entirely overwhelms you and

Snow.

Frozen creek.

The woman turns toward you and looks surprised to see someone else in the woods with her.

She waves to you and you’re pulled forward by an invisible string. When you get closer to where she’s partially hidden by shadows, you see she’s not alone.

A younger woman with pale skin, dark hair, and wide hazel eyes.

But there’s another woman too.

The throbbing in your thumb pulls you out of the flashback.

Rio.

Rio was there, too. You’ve met both Agatha and Rio before.

But you don’t know who the other woman is; you didn’t even get a good look at her.

Focus on that later, you tell yourself, whining as you gingerly pull your hand out of the cuff. You lean over and snatch the key off the nightstand and quickly unlock the other cuff. It hurts like hell to use your dislocated thumb to turn the key, but you don’t know how else you’d use it. You take another slow, deep breath before popping that thumb back in.

After moving it around and massaging it to get the blood flowing back in, you scramble off the bed and run downstairs.

You need to go back to your motel room and get your gun, not even bothering to look and see if they have any, but first you need to go back into their room downstairs and see if there’s any hints about where they might be going.

It appears that all the photos that have red circles on them are past victims, so you have absolutely no idea where they might be.

You’re about to leave the room and go back to the motel when you remember the medical file from Massachusetts. It looks like they have pictures of a copy; how would they even get that?

But you bend down to read it and a searing pain splits through your forehead. It hurts so bad it forces your eyes shut and you’re only able to comprehend a few words and phrases.

Hypothermia…18 hours in the snow.

Pneumonia.

Head-induced trauma caused retrograde/post-traumatic amnesia.

The pain in your head brings you to your knees as you try to make sense of the record. You remember learning about types of amnesia in your psych classes, and retrograde means you can’t remember things that happened before the accident.

Is that why there’s a block? Or is it because of something you saw in the woods?

Nothing is adding up.

Why didn’t your parents ever tell you about this? Is this the reason you left Salem so quickly?

The throbbing in your head has leveled down to a dull ache and you’re able to stand up. This is all connected somehow, you just don’t know how.

What you do know is that you need to find them and stop them.

You dig around the drawers in the kitchen to find a set of keys to Rio’s car, you’re guessing, and you’re peeling out of their driveway, not even caring about the speed limits. You blow through stop signs and red lights, but it’s late enough that no one else is on the road.

Throwing the car into park once you get back to the motel, you shoulder open the door to your room and come to a halt.

It’s the smell that hits you first.

A sickly sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into your nose and you almost retch. Purple azaleas litter the floor in a path from the front door to the bedroom door, candles lit on both sides like a romantic rendezvous.

They were already here. How could they have known you’d come back? Are they in the other room?

Heart pounding, you gulp before reaching for your gun on the table and cautiously stepping toward the bedroom. You close your eyes and say a little prayer that you’re not about to be killed, and you kick it open.

There’s more azaleas, and enough candles to perform a ritual. Your gaze scans the room, breaths getting shorter and shallower.

And then you see the bed and your hands clamp over your mouth in order to smother the cry that comes out involuntarily.

It’s the woman from the gas station, sprawled out like a starfish, completely naked from the waist up. There’s a lace from one of your pairs of shoes wrapped tightly around her neck, face tinted blue.

Your body violently shakes as you walk over to her and you see her chest.

The letter “O” is carved around her right breast. The letter “U” around her left. “R” is carved into the right side of her stomach, and “S” into the left.

OURS.

We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them.

Ignoring the heat running through your body, you spot a notecard clenched in her hand and you wrench it out.

On one side, it says: Sorry, baby. Xoxo. On the other side, there’s an address.

You know it’s a trap, like this right here was, and like everything else may have been, but what choice do you have?

Your fingers tighten on your gun and you get back into Rio’s car, punching the location into your phone.

This ends tonight.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader #rio vidal x you

122 notes · View notes

hotvintagepoll · 1 day ago

Text

Charlie Chaplin and Paulette Goddard (Modern Times, The Great Dictator)—hollywood royalty and real life married, these two convey a real chumminess when they're onscreen together so you believe they're not just shippable, they're pals <3

Paul Newman and Robert Redford (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Sting)—My god, their chemistry. It's iconic. And very very sexy. They're kind of canonically in a throuple in the first one, so that's kind of like playing an actual romance. But also, they're the central relationships of both films and their inexplicable devotion to each other is a key driving force in them. Those blue eyed bastards. I love them.

This is round 1 of a mini Christmas tournament. Each poll lasts for three days. If you'd like to send additional propaganda supporting your favorite hot couple, you can reblog this post with your propaganda added, send it to my asks, or tag me in it. To vote in all the polls, click here. Happy holidays!

[additional sexy propaganda under the cut]

no additional propaganda submitted for Chaplin and Goddard

Redford and Newman:

The following propanda was submitted by the anon who lives in my vents:

[drags self out of the vents reeking of stale gasoline] SO ABOUT THAT NEW MINI POLL.......may i suggest: ROBERT REDFORD and PAUL NEWMAN in BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID. MY REASONING:

thagt was some of tha gayest shit i've ever seen in my entire life and i'm only 23

but for realsies, that movie was literally a love story between butch n sundance. every single thing they did, they did together

THEY'RE EVEN PERFECT OPPOSITES IN PERSONALITY—butch is the optimistic guy who never shuts up and is less intimidating than he looks; sundance is the pessimistic brooder who looks harmless because he's pretty, but is the most dangerous guy you'll ever meet

AND THEN,,,,,, EVEN WHEN THEY (SPOILERS) HAD THAT THROUPLEY THING GOING ON WITH ETTA IN BOLIVIA, AND ETTA EVENTUALLY WANTED TO LEAVE, SUNDANCE STILL CHOSE TO STAY WITH BUTCH AND DIE RATHER THAN LIVE A SEMI-SAFE LIFE WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!! LIKE!!!!!! GIRL WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!

AND THE FINAL SCENE I—i need to stare at a WALL—

plus the fact that paul newman and robert redford were actually besties irl meant that their chemistry was OFF THE CHARTS. even when i was A VERY STUPID LITTLE KID and i watched that movie for the first time, i was like ".......so um... are they, like, in love with each other and that lady?"

PLUS THE FACT THAT THE MOVIE WAS DIRECTED BY THE SAME GUY WHO WOULD LATER DIRECT THE STING AND THAT MOVIE WAS JUST AS, IF NOT MORE GAY, I—

O-|-< (← me lying dead on the ground)

THE TRUST, THE INTIMACY, THE BANTER, THE LOYALTY, THE INHERENT HOMOEROTICISM OF DYING SIDE BY SIDE—

they're gay, your honour.

ergo, dear mod, i humbly ask that you consider two of my blorbos for the mini poll bracket <3 if you need more information, literally just dm me or tag me, i'll be hangin' out in the vents 😎🤙🏼 as usual (unless my house explodes into bats)

#robert redford #paul newman #paulette goddard #charlie chaplin #hotvintagepoll #hot couples tourney

125 notes · View notes

enhaeil · 1 day ago

Text

NITE AND DAY! ☆ 엔하이픈

"i can tell you how i feel about you, nite and day."

nite and day - al b. sure

ENHYPEN AT A COOKOUT!

c/w: implied black reader... but i mean, anybody can read ig!

heeseung

"baby i'm so nervous to meet your family. i mean what if they hate my gifts? what if they hate me? do i stink?-"

you cut him off, laughing at his nerves. "hee, my momma already loves you, so you're one step ahead. and for the record, you don't stink. you smell like me."

"not my fault. i can't keep you off of me." he says smuggly.

you roll your eyes playfully before opening your car door. "last time i checked it was you who couldn't stay off of me, mr. made-us-late." you say as you walk up the stairs to your porch. you look behind you and notice heeseung still nervously standing in front of the house.

"heeseung, get your ass in this house!"

jay

your family decided it was about time they hosted a family reunion. it would be the first family event since you and jay got married, so you thought it'd be a good idea to go.

you finish ironing the reunion shirts and throw yours on, handing jay his. you turn around in the mirror to look at where it shows your now shared last name on the back.

"mr. and mrs. park huh? who would've thought!" he says, wrapping a hand around your waist. he leans down to press a kiss on your lips before you guys head out for the busy day.

you finally arrive at the house and are immediately bombarded with family. jay feels a little awkward at first, but once the family starts giving out hugs, he's in.

you run inside to help your mom prepare some food real quick and leave jay with your brothers.

"excuse me," he feels a small hand tug on his pants. "who are you?"

he looks down at the voice and notices a small child, presumably your niece. he crouches down to her height. "well, i'm your uncle jay."

"hi uncle jay. do you want to play dollies with us?" how could jay say no to such a cute face?

by the time you come back out, jay is standing by the grill with a 'kiss the chef' apron on. you dont hesitate to make your way over there and give him a smooch.

"looks you're fitting right in baby." you say as you wipe some sweat off his forehead with a cloth.

jake

you left for 3 minutes, and you come back out to your boyfriend jake being tackled by all your little cousins.

you rush over there to save him, yanking the little ones off one by one and helping him up off the grass.

"jakey. mind explaining what happened?" you giggle, dusting grass out of his hair.

"it started off as one. then two. then the whole stampede came running towards me. they really love their uncle jake!" he says, catching his breath.

you drag him towards the food table, fixing his plate as he takes a breather. "here, you've probably worked up an appetite."

he wastes no time chowing down. he finishes his food quickly, holding his stomach as he leans back.

"you know what this experience has made me realize, y/n?" he says casually. you hum, waiting for him to continue.

"i'm ready to have a baby." you almost choke on your potato salad.

"a baby, jake? i mean,... sure, but at least put a ring on me first!"

"i'm already one step ahead of you, babe."

sunghoon

sunghoon is usually reserved and to himself around new people. however, your family has seemed to turn him into a new man.

you're flipping some meat on the grill before you feel your mans presence behind you. he wraps his arms around your waist, swaying you to the beat of the music playing.

"hi, hoonie. what's up?" you say as place your hand over his.

"i was thinking. we should take your little cousins ice skating one day." he presses a soft kiss against your check.

"you think so? what, you wanna show off your skills?" he chuckles and nods his head.

"of course and i think it'll-" he starts before he's cut off.

"aye hoon!!! come over here for a round of dominos."

"gotta go, baby, your cousins are about to teach me how to play their version of dominos!!" he says, running off like an excited kid.

sunoo

sunoo wanted to make the best impression on your family, so for the potluck, he decided to make dishes from his culture.

you watched your boyfriend as he slaved over the stove to whip up some samgyeopsal and tteok, making sure they taste perfect.

you can't help but go up to him and kiss his cheek. "it's so cute how hard you're working, noo. they're gonna love whatever you make."

"i sure hope so. i mean, y/n. these are my future in-laws we're talking about here. i refuse to be known as the brother in law who can't even boil water!"

"that will never happen! and if it does, i'll cook something, and we can say you did it." you giggle.

jungwon

jungwon had never been to a cookout before. actually, he's never been to a black cookout. man was so excited he slept next to his outfit instead of you.

you sit by the coolers as you watch jungwon mingle with your uncles. before he comes jogging back to you.

"hi won, you hungry?" you say, standing up to hug him. he presses a kiss onto your cheek before replying. "yes, let's eat!"

you fix jungwon's plate and you guys sit down and eat together. the moment he takes that first bite you swear you see his eyes light up.

"y/n. baby." he says, one cheek stuffed with chicken. you hum in return.

"i think i just fell in love."

jungwon definitely returned for seconds and a to-go plate.

niki

you were home for college and decided to bring your boyfriend back with you. every spring, your family held a reunion, and niki decided to tag along.

"are you sure i'm not invading, y/n? i mean, it's a family reunion." he says, watching you do your makeup in the mirror.

"no nik, you're good, i promise. as long as you're with me, you're family."

that afternoon, you guys arrive at the park where it was being held and make your way to the picnic area.

everyone greets you and niki as the party starts to kick off.

niki is awkward, and he doesn't know what to do at first until some of your male relatives drag him away.

by the time you see riki again, it's as if he's a different person. "y/n, baby!! come here and dance with me" he says, holding on to your waist as y'all "step in the name of love."

what does he even know about that?

#enhypen reactions #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhaeil ☆ reactions #enha fluff #kpop #enhypen scenarios #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #jungwon x reader #sunoo x reader #niki x reader #black reader #enhypen x black reader

85 notes · View notes

strawberrypinky · 2 days ago

Text

fic recs - best of 2024 ✨🍓

With 2024 drawing to a close, I have decided to do a "best of 2024" fic rec list. I already did a round of recommendations in May of this year and I loved the positivity I was able to spread by sharing a few kind words about some fics that I have read and loved.

2024 was year of immense personal growth and changes for me (though I suspect 2025 will be equally... challenging) and I haven't read as many fics as I usually would have. However, I still came across quite a few wonderful ones, so without further ado here's my best of for 2024!

This is also me making up for the fact that I don't ever comment on fics. Sorry to the authors of the mentioned fics - I'm usually very awkward, but I promise I loved your fics. Otherwise they wouldn't have ended up on here

Baldur's Gate 3 Arguably the fandom I participated in the most this year after getting the game in January of 2024. I think precious little fandom content has stayed with me as intensely as anything Baldur's Gate, and I am so so appreciative of all the wonderful people I have met through this game. I wish I would've had more time for the amazing content people created (and continue to create!) for this game, alas, here's my top fanfiction for 2024:

❦

dealbreaker [A!Astarion x Tav] - @goodgirlgonebard

❦ Plot: "Dealbreaker" explores the dynamic between Willow (Tav) and an ascended Astarion, as they try to navigate their feelings for one another post breakup and post-brain, both with wishes and desires of their own, such as marriage, children and the possibility of an eternity together. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: I’ve only ascended Astarion once (purely for the plot, of course), and I firmly believe it’s his bad ending. That said, when it comes to fan fiction, I absolutely devour the dynamics between an Ascended Astarion and Tav/Durge, because the toxic complexity of their relationship is endlessly fascinating. Dealbreaker does an exceptional job of capturing the push and pull that defines both Astarion and Willow, even though it portrays A!Astarion in a somewhat softer light. It works perfectly within the context of the story, thanks in part to how delightfully idiotic Willow and Astarion can be when it comes to their own feelings. The blend of drama, fluff, and angst is just right, and I absolutely adore watching them navigate their way through it all together. There's also a song rec at the start of each chapter and Ms Ambs has taste 🤌🏻 Definitely my favourite BG3/Astarion read of the year!

❦

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal [A!Astarion x Durge] - @brain-rot-central

❦ Plot: After becoming the first ever Vampire Ascendant, Astarion begins to forge a new path for himself. Months after the defeat of the Netherbrain he returns to his former lovers life and the two grapple with the changed dynamics of their former relationship. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: "Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal" delves into a darker exploration of the relationship between Ascended Astarion and a redeemed Dark Urge, yet it remains utterly captivating. The crafted narrative feels both believable and seamless, drawing you into Durge's deeply personal fears as she becomes entangled once again in Astarion's life. The portrayal of her anxiety is so vivid that it transfers to you as a reader. The tension between them feels palpable to you - a sort of nightmare fuel that has you anticipating something bad is going to happen at the next second and you somehow know it will. I'm very curious to see this continue, because it's so beautifully fucked up. ❦ Note: This fic contains dark content.

❦

The Last of the Silverboughs [Halsin & Tav, Astarion/Tav] - Stillmaurauding (AO3)

❦ Plot: Halsin, burdened by the weight of his past, encounteres Lythra, a young Drow woman whose nature leaves him utterly perplexed. Meanwhile she is relentless in her efforts to break free from her own trouble history in Menzoberranzan and the two forge an unlikely bond as they navigate a the journey to Baldur's Gate. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: Considering Halsin's character in the game, I understand why there’s minimal exploration of him as a father figure in storytelling, apart from scenarios involving Tav or Durge making him one. That said, he fits beautifully into the role of a quasi-father to Lythra throughout this narrative. The story delves into some very dark themes, but I’ve truly appreciated the nuanced approach to trauma, especially through Lythra’s character. The progression of the relationships, as well as the tensions within the group, feel very natural and there is enough intrigue with every chapter to make you want to continue. I hope the author eventually picks this up again. I'm also fairly certain they are on tumblr, however, I haven't been able to find them. If anyone knows their handle, let me know. I'd love to give credit where it's due :) ❦ Note: This fic contains dark content.

❦

O, Fortuna [Raphael/Dark Urge] - @gufu-vire

❦ Plot: Post the events of BG3, a redeemed Dark Urge and Raphael renegotiate terms to fulfil a contract sworn upon during the crisis of the Absolute. An adventure fraught with tension, frustration, conflict, and more as the reader partners up with the devil you love to hate ❦ strawberry's thoughts: Most biased spot on this list, especially if you've been following me for a while. I do not read Raphael fics, because while I understand the appeal, he's simply not my guy. However, I've been here for "O, Fortuna" since it was still in early development and Gufu said she hasn't got another longfic/slowburn in her, and thus it's ending up on here. It's definitely the longest fic on this list and quite an emotional journey, but I promise it's worth it. ❦ Note: This fic contains dark content, specifically towards the end.

❦

In Another Life, I Knew You [Astarion/Tav] - spaced_egg (AO3)

❦ Plot: After 200 years of believing him to be dead, Tav is once again faced with her ex-fiancé Astarion, who has little recollection of his life before Cazador. Now having to navigate tadpoles, the end of the world and feelings of both the past and the present, Tav and Astarion journey through Faerûn together. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: When I first read the summary of the fic I was quickly intrigued, because the concept of Tav and Astarion having known each other before he became a vampire offers up so many possibilites and adds layers of depth I really appreciate. "In Another Life, I knew You" does a wonderful job of expanding on their past and focussing on their present situation and as a reader you find yourself easily engrossed into the story. The dynamic between the two of them is written in a very believable way and I dearly hope the author is going to continue the story in 2025.

❦

Judgement by the Hounds [Gortash/Dark Urge] - @septembersummer

❦ Plot: A look into the relationship of The Dark Urge (Seren) and Gortash, from their first meeting up to their shared end. "The rise and fall of the worst situationship of all time" indeed. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: "Judgement by the Hounds" is getting a place in my fic recs for a second time, because it is quite possibly the best portrayal of Durgetash ever. It's basically canon to me at this point, because of how realistic their relationship is depicted (as in, realistic for them). I went through all fives stages of grief reading that story, and I so desperately kept hoping for a happy ending, even if Durgetash are the last people to deserve it. 10/10 fic - there's literally nothing else I can say.

❦

Miscellaneous One Shots/Short stories (Includes the ones I already recommended in May bc let's spread some love): legacy with no memory by @discordsmuse on AO3 - Gortash x The Dark Urge The Weight of A Promise by @sserpente on tumblr [Part 2 is equally good!] - Gortash x Tav/OC kiddo. by @avocado-writing on tumblr. - Gortash & OC to have and to hold by @littlejuicebox on tumblr. - Astarion x Tav choices. by @deadtired-highkeyenergetic on tumblr - Astarion x Tav how to win a custody battle in one easy step. by alltears on AO3 - Astarion x Tav Dangerous by NaeveTheWizard on AO3 - Astarion x The Dark Urge

The Ascendant Takes A Bride by @deadly-diminuendo on tumblr - Astarion x OC lilac and gold by @sorceresssundries on tumblr - Halsin x Tav Until We Wake, also by sorceresssundries on tumblr - Gale x Tav pygmalion's folly by AutopsyGarlands on AO3 - Gortash x Tav The Dark Prince by @reverieblondie on tumblr - Rolan x Tav For Old Times' Sake by @sserpente on tumblr - Gortash x Tav Ma'am by @kimberbohwrites on tumblr/AO3 - Rolan x Tav To Care Enough by @locallegume on tumblr - Astarion x Tav colors of the wind by al9ayf on AO3 - Halsin x Tav To Sever the Thread by anotheropti on AO3 - Shadowheart x Tav

❦

Honourable Mentions: Honourable mentions go out to several artists whose work I have throughly enjoyed throughout the year!

@starrforge - Incredible Halsin x Tav artwork! @lirotation - My favourite Astarionx Tav artwork, including amazing comics! @shellytheleo - Utterly beautiful Bloodweave content @heyitsjaki - THE BEST COMICS. I love how Gale suffers. Immaculate. @infernaldaydreams - Added to the BG3 category for the amazing Durgetash art, but damn if the DA art isn't immaculate as well.

Hogwarts Legacy I left behind Hogwarts Legacy at the start of the year, however one fic has still managed to secure a spot on my best of 2024 list:

merry and bright [Sebastian Sallow x M!MC] - @heyitszev

❦ Plot: Years after having left his magical hometown of Feldcroft, now streamer Sebastian Sallow returns home for the holidays to celebrate his sisters' nuptials. He expects a short visit, until he meets Charlie, Feldcroft's baker and potions master, and realises what he's been missing all along. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: I am a sucker for Hallmark movies - the cliches and predictability are something I eat up time and time again. So when the wonderfully talented Zev decided to write a hallmark fic with a gay couple at its center, I knew I would eat it up. "merry and bright" is perfect in taking itself serious enough yet also allowing for the typical hilarity and easygoing nature of Hallmark movies. The main characters are adoringly clueless yet charmingly witty and I cannot get enough of the dynamics between all of them.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Having not played the first three DA games, I know precious little about the universe as a whole. I have several opinions on the game/plot itself, but the community has created some incredible content that deserves to be honoured and appreciated!

❦

Rookie [Viago de Riva & F!Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte/F!Rook] - @marcell-arts

❦ Plot: Rook (or "Rookie") de Riva navigates growing up as a Fledgling of House de Riva as a former slave, before eventually becoming the Hero of the Veilguard. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: Confession time: there’s nothing I love more than a good 'found family' dynamic, especially when it includes a reluctant father/brother figure. That trope alone is usually enough to win me over. I stumbled upon this fic late one night when it had about 15 chapters. Safe to say, I didn’t get much sleep because I was hooked from the very first chapter. The writing is absolutely phenomenal, with pitch-perfect pacing (seriously, it’s masterful) and just the right blend of detail, headcanons, and canon divergence. It manages to stay true to the game while carving out its own identity, and the dynamic between Rook and Viago is equal parts heartwarming and hilarious - ultimate tsundere/reluctant dad meets the kid he practically scooped out of a dumpster energy. Additionally, the relationships Rook forms before teaming up with Varric add so much depth and dimension to her as an original character; they really make her feel alive. This is hands-down one of the best fics I’ve read all year, and I still can’t believe it’s the author’s first.

❦

Misdirection [Emmerich Volkarin/F!Rook] - @jainydoe (AO3)

❦ Plot [AU Setting]: Working for the FBI, being a Professor and a single dad has left Emmerich celibate for years, but the return of his estranged ex wife renders him desperate enough to sign up for a Sugar Dating Website, through which he meets the disaster that is Rook, a broke college student equally as desperate as him. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: The prose of this fic is absolutely fantastic, but what really gets me is the humour. Rook is such a disaster that I can't help but laugh every five seconds and yet "Misdirection" manages to be serious enough that it never comes across as silly or irritating. Emmerich's characterisation, specifically the struggle between his hopeless romanticism and hurt, is written beautifully illustrative and I'm endlessly curious to see where the entire fic will eventually lead.

That's it for my 2024 fic recs! I will definitely be doing this again in 2025, because it brings me a lot of joy to uplift so many fantastic creators and their work. I would love to know what everyone else's "best of" fics were this year, so feel free to drop some wonderful recommendations! Let's create positive and loving spaces for each other, especially in times like these.

For now, Merry Christmas to those celebrating!

Much love xx

94 notes · View notes

rorja · 2 days ago

Text

synopsis. just building cats out of bricks with satoru gojo.

a/n. it came to me in a dream....... ( first time writing for gojo and I'm . a bound of nerves 😵‍💫😵‍💫 but my inner demons worked hard..... and there's something so comforting about building lego sets around Christmas.......TT. anywayy,, as usual I'll proofread as soon as I wake up! happy holidays everyone <3)

just thinking about assembling building blocks together with satoru gojo. it's an unusual evening, unplanned and beyond the closed window the city is still bustling under the first caresses of snow.

the cold can't touch you, here. he made sure to put the heater on when you stepped on the threshold of his house and a blanket eventually found its way to you once the coat got discarded on the faraway corner of the sofa.

unplanned. like the black and yellow cardboard near the coffee table or the white, numbered paper bags you were opening after finishing a piece of the entire structure. one at the time. you suppose that ending up at satoru's place and building lego was not something you'd imagine yourself doing in one of december's seemingly never-ending afternoon. but the tv is on with some christmas-themed romcom, satoru's long limbs are shoved under the small coffee table you were set to use as a building headquarter and the heater's nice.

it was supposed to be a gift, you believe, but on the box there has never been a specific address or some kanji with a name, nor it was wrapped like any other christmas gifts. it was there, annoyingly on display for everyone to see and it became an impromptu gift with no recipient.

"and so you bought it?" satoru repeats again, throwing a glance to the instructions once again before placing the brick on the semi-stable structure he was assembling. "it seems like I'm becoming a bad influence to you, huh"

you don't grace him with an answer— too busy trying to put together all the pieces of the ninth bag. the pieces fit perfectly with each other, and after a while the cat became more than discernible. satoru didn't try to maintain the conversation, now entirely sucked in whatever platform he had to build.

the clock on the wall kept going, but its ticketing fell on deaf ears. you couldn't help but glance at him; satoru was focused but his eyes betrayed his boy-ish intrigue to the blocks. it felt weird in a sense, to being a witness of such a moment. the pieces were smaller than his pinkies, and you've noticed that sometimes his nails would get in the way while pushing a block onto another one. surprisingly he seemed to really like it, and not just following your rhythm absentmindedly.

(but you suppose that's satoru specialty, surprising you. and it has happened more times that could be counted on your fingers, lately.)

a beat. you return to your piece but soon enough the moment to put all of that together happens and you're left wondering after a whispered "I don't remember building lego before" leaves his mouth. a confession of sorts that has your stomach turn in knots before you could even blink. you don't think you were supposed to hear it in first place, as his eyes still don't dare to leave the base of the creature made of blocks.

it struck you then how much care satoru actually is putting in his half of the work: he is taking his time to read and follow the instructions where he would've not had the will to keep going— getting easily distracted in any other situation; delicately fitting the pieces of this cat-sized puzzle deep in concentration, with his tongue peeking out once a peculiar mechanism demands more attention than anything else. it's not something he's following through just because you asked for him to, but more because he's actually enjoying it.

(enjoying doing such mundane activities with you.)

one, two, three pieces and the cat is done. satoru pushes jokingly the spare pieces towards your side of the table and you wordlessly puts them in one of the bags you've been opening for a while. but there's something wrong, you think eyeing the cat once again, something that makes your eyes squint in concentration. before he could even question (or joke) about what has you frowning so much, you pick the spare pair of eyes from the bag, the blue one, and you replace them to what satoru has picked previously. useless to say, the choice has him pouting at you.

"now, why would you that? brown eyes suited him" he retorts, his chin lying on his crossed arms on the smooth surface of the table. it's probably the third time, in all those years you've known him, that you can see his eyes so clearly without sunglasses or blindfold on.

"with blue eyes it reminds me of someone I know, unfortunately" you shrug, holding on into this staring contest he started first, and it has you feeling dizzy somehow. exposed, even. but his pouts doesn't disappear, it only lasts more which is why eventually leads you to a sigh— and under his amused expression you retrieve one of the eyes to put the blue one. "you happy now?"

"very much, thank you!"

you sigh again, this time more loudly while leaning against the small sofa. then, before you could even ponder the words sitting on your tongue, you ask him: "should we give it a name?"

the smile on satoru's face betrayed his mask once again.

(days later, after one hard mission assigned, megumi would question the presence of the lego cat to which satoru would answer with the proudest look the kid's ever seen on his face: "his name is Taro!")

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #first time writing for gojo......... kinda nervous...........

74 notes · View notes

daryltwdixon · 3 days ago

Note

hey! i have a request :) could you do daryl x fem reader who sings? she has never been too open about her singing but when she’s alone she’s singing all the time/humming to herself around others. she’s had a crush on him for a while but hasn’t been able to do anything about it because she’s not sure if he feels the same. but he hears her singing when she didn’t notice he was there and it sparks something <3

Daryl x Reader fluff

thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry I literally blanked on every cute folk song I've ever heard so I settled for this one that I hold dear to my heart from a trip I took to England. Hope this is kind of what you were hoping for!

here is the song

The sun dips low over the tree line surrounding the Greene farm, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple. For the first time since the world turned upside down, you feel something like ease. The farm is undeniably beautiful, a serene homestead somehow tucked away from the horrors beyond its borders.

You’re perched on the porch railing, a pair of knitting needles clicking softly in your hands as you work on a pair of woolen socks. Knitting had started as a hobby but quickly became a necessity when you realized just how unforgiving winter would be without the simple comforts of central heating and the yearly down coat you used to take for granted. Now, it’s your quiet mission to make sure everyone has warm socks before the temperature drops.

Knitting is a simple, repetitive task—one that keeps your hands busy but leaves your mind free to wander. Without even thinking, a soft melody escapes your lips. It’s a tune that’s always been stowed in the back of your mind, rising to the surface when the world around you feels still, or when you’re caught in the rhythm of something as peaceful as this.

mmm I want to linger,

mmm, a little longer

mmm, a little longer here with you

Between the steadiness of your needles and the soft melody humming from your lips, you don’t notice the figure standing on the steps until his boots creak against the top of the porch.

You nearly drop the fabric in your lap when you glance up and see Daryl Dixon, his blue eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place beneath his usual surly expression.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, gripping the knitting needles tighter. “Didn’t hear you comin’.”

He shrugs, a small, nonchalant motion, but his hand lifts to his mouth, the skin of his thumb settling between his teeth. It’s a gesture you’ve seen before, one you’ve come to recognize as his ‘thinking’ face. You hesitate, unsure whether to keep knitting or set it aside.

Daryl’s presence always leaves you off balance. There’s something about the quiet way he moves through the world—intimidating, yes, but also magnetic. You’re never sure how to act around him, but that hasn’t stopped you from wanting to be near him. Despite the brooding air and glowering gaze, you’ve caught glimpses of something softer beneath the surface.

“Don’t gotta stop ‘cause a’me,” he grumbles, his voice low, half-muffled behind his hand.

Your face grows warm under the weight of his gaze, and you quickly avert your eyes, focusing on the fabric in your lap, fumbling with it. “Oh, uh… it’s fine. I was gonna turn in soon anyway,” you mumble.

“You’re always singin’,” he says after a beat, his tone quiet. You can’t tell if it’s meant as a criticism or just an observation, but it catches you off guard all the same.

Your fingers pause over the fabric, smoothing the soft wool as you bite your lip. “I… I didn’t think anyone noticed,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Daryl exhales sharply through his nose, a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a huff. He shifts on his feet, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn and make his way toward the rocking chair by the door.

You glance up, watching as he sets his crossbow down against the wall. Without a word, he settles into the chair with a kind of casual ease that only Daryl Dixon could make look both restless and deliberate. He leans forward, pulling one of his arrows free from the quiver, and begins sharpening the tip with his knife. The rhythmic scrape of metal on wood fills the silence.

“Well,” he grunts after a moment when he sees you still staring, looking up from his work, “go on then.”

Your brows knit together, caught off guard by his words. “Go on with… what?”

He spares you a brief glance, his knife stilling for a second before he returns to his task. “Singin’. Ain’t botherin’ me none.”

The heat in your face deepens, and you laugh softly, more out of nervousness than anything else. “I don’t really sing. Not, like, for people.”

“Ain’t askin’ for a concert,” he mutters, his voice gruff but not unkind. His attention fixes on the arrow in his hands then, but there’s something in the way he said it—something almost… expectant.

You hesitate, your fingers still fidgeting with the wool in your lap. The thought of singing with him sitting so close makes your chest feel tight, but the idea that he noticed, that he cared enough to listen, sparks something warm inside you.

After a long pause, you swallow your nerves and begin to hum a few soft notes, your voice barely audible over the sound of his knife scraping against the arrow. It’s tentative at first, shaky, but when he doesn’t react—just keeps sharpening his arrow with that same quiet intensity—you feel brave enough to let the melody take shape once again.

mmm, it's such a perfect night

mmm, it doesn't seem quite right

mmm, that it should be my last with you

The porch settles into an odd kind of harmony: the soft cadence of your voice mingling with the steady rhythm of his knife, your knitting needles back to work with a deliberate cadence. You steal a glance at him every so often, and for the first time, you notice the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. The world beyond the farm seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you under the fading light of the evening.

You let the melody flow, one note slipping into another, your voice growing steadier. There’s something about having Daryl nearby—his quiet presence—that makes you feel… safe. Like you don’t need to worry about being too loud, or drawing too much attention, because he’s there.

mmm, and as the years go by

mmm, I'll think of you and sigh

mmm, this is goodnight and not goodbye

Eventually, you glance over again, expecting to find him still sharpening his arrow, but instead, you freeze. His knife and arrow rest forgotten in his lap, and he’s sitting back in the chair, his arms crossed loosely in front of him as he chews his lip. His gaze is fixed on you, steady and warm, with a softness you’ve never seen from him before.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?” you ask, your voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch or fumble for words like he sometimes does when he’s caught off guard. “Nothin’,” he says, his tone low and even. But the way he says it, the way his gaze lingers, it feels like more.

Your fingers tighten around the knitting needles still in your lap as you hold his stare, your heart beating louder than it should.

“You’re starin’,” you manage, a small, nervous laugh escaping you.

“Maybe,” he admits, the corner of his mouth tugging into the faintest hint of a smirk.

The continued warmth in his gaze sparks something in your chest, and for a moment, you feel like the air around you has shifted. You’ve seen Daryl angry, guarded, even awkward—but this? This is different. He’s not looking away, not retreating behind the usual walls you’ve come to expect. He’s just… watching you, like he’s really seeing you for the first time.

Neither of you say anything right away, but the silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It’s heavy in a way that makes you hyper-aware of the space between you, of the way his eyes stay on yours, steady and unflinching.

Finally, your lips tug into a small smile, letting out a sigh. He shifts forward, brushing his hand against the arrow he’d set aside. “You’re good at it,” he mutters, his voice low, like he’s not used to saying the words.

“Knitting?” you tease, trying to cut the tension with a little humor.

He lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Singin’,” he says. “Ain’t just hummin’. You sound...nice.”

The sincerity in his tone makes your stomach flip, and your cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks,” you say softly, your voice more even than you expect.

The cool breeze nips at your skin, but you hardly notice, warmth spreading in your chest. There’s a look in his eyes—soft, almost contemplative—that makes your breath catch.

“Guess we should head in ‘fore it gets colder.” he says gruffly, as if remembering himself.

You nod, gathering your half finished socks and needles as you follow him toward the door. As you step inside, you can’t help but feel like something shifted tonight, something small but important. And for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.

#ask daryltwdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl one shot #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #twd #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader

70 notes · View notes

amyispxnk · 1 day ago

Text

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

121 notes · View notes

guilty-pleasures21 · 2 days ago

Note

HI! I read you were taking requests for Jason! I'd love to see him with a gf who absolutely loves Christmas - I'm taking about going all out with decorating her apartment, baking gingerbread houses etc... - and they both get invited to the manor to spend the holidays with the whole family, where they get to see Jason, whom they know hates celebrating most holidays, being super affectionate and giddy around his partner and helping her and Alfred decorating gingerbread cookies <3

I'm so sorry if it's a lenghty request! I love your works so much!!

Thanks, love! It always warms me up inside when someone tells me that they love my hard work 🥰🥹!

This request was seriously not lengthy at all 🤣. The more details the better and you gave me some fantastic ideas! I'd also like to credit @daheckinbestbitch for inspiring me to fluff things up to the MAXXX! I'm not sure if this is what you were looking for, but hope I did an adequate job 🥺. So, without further ado ...

Christmas special!

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: brief reference to sex.

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

Jason lifted his head, confused by the soft music he could hear drifting into his bedroom. He focused harder on the sound and soon realised that it was Christmas music - the absolute worst kind of music there was. Jason groaned and covered his face with a pillow, muffling the sound but not getting rid of it entirely. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he forced himself out of bed and got up to investigate. And there was the source of the accursed noise: his girlfriend, standing by the kitchen island putting the finishing touches on a log cake she’d baked to take over to Bruce’s house later.

“Morning, princess.” X looked up with a bright smile and her heart fluttered when she saw her boyfriend rubbing his eye as he walked over to her, his messy bedhead so irresistibly adorable in the morning.

“Morning, baby!” she greeted him, coaxing a happy smile out of him - he loved it when she called him that; when she treated him like a big baby she just loved to spoil and pamper. Jason leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek as he walked past her.

“Did you have to put on the Christmas music?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her in question.

“Yes!” she argued, following him over to the fridge. “It sets the mood!” She waited for him to move away from the doors before she slid her cake onto a shelf she’d emptied out for it. Jason leaned back against the counter as he took a gulp straight from the milk bottle, but he regretted it immediately when his girlfriend’s entire figure entered his field of vision.

“X …” Jason coughed out, setting the bottle down and taking a moment to clear his throat. “What are you wearing?”

She turned around to face him, giving an excited little twirl to show off her dress. “A dress! I got it for dinner at your family's place tonight! Is it okay? You don't think it's inappropriate?”

She pursed her lips as she waited for his response, nervous for her first Christmas with her boyfriend’s family. Of course she knew everyone - being an active member of the batfamily and having been Jason’s best friend for a few years before they’d officially started dating - but she’d never spent the holidays with them before.

Jason curled his hands around her waist slowly, appraising her from head to toe. She was wearing a deep red sweater dress that fell to her mid-thighs. The loose material hung off one of her shoulders, leaving the other so deliciously bare, and she’d cinched the fabric around her waist with a thick black belt.

(Something like this:)

X bit her lip when she noticed her boyfriend’s gaze rapidly darkening as he took her in. Suddenly, he pulled her to him, and she let out a surprised squeak as she fell against his chest.

“It's perfect,” Jason murmured, his voice almost breathless with awe. He helped his girlfriend straighten again, then ran his hands up her body, enjoying the way his core tightened at how soft she felt beneath his fingers. His eyes stayed fixed on her chest as he reached up and started to tug her other sleeve off her shoulder and X laughed at his enthusiasm.

“Jason.” She covered her hand with his, stopping him before he could pull the material down her chest. “It's not the time for that.”

Jason’s expression immediately hardened into a frown.

“Then when is it the time?!” he asked, sulking like a spoiled little boy who'd just been told he had to wait before he could open his Christmas presents.

Another chuckle fell from X’s lips at his reaction and she pulled herself away from him before adjusting her dress. “Tomor-”

“Tomorrow?!” Jason interrupted before she could even finish. “What the actual f*ck?! Ugh! This is why Christmas is the worst. F*cking. Holiday. Ever!”

His head fell back as he let out a disappointed groan and X pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with an unamused look as she leaned her hip against the kitchen island. “You think Christmas is the worst holiday ever because your girlfriend said she wouldn't have sex with you until the day after?”

He narrowed his eyes at her as he considered her statement, but the fight quickly left him at how adorable she looked, standing there in her cute little dress. Jason trudged back over to her and buried his face in the crook of her neck as he wrapped her up in his arms.

“Well, when you put it like that …” he mumbled, taking a pause so he could have a moment to indulge in the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. Then he straightened and fixed her with a sombre expression. “Yes.”

X burst into laughter again. “Jay! You're such an idiot, love.”

She cupped his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks as he pouted down at her, and her resolve quickly started to weaken in the face of his ruggedly handsome features.

“Hmm …” Her gaze flickered briefly over to her bedroom, her expression growing more uncertain by the second. “I guess … I could squeeze you in before we head out …”

Jason bent over, resting his forehead on hers, and his lips curled into a wicked smile. “Oh, really? You gonna squeeze me in, princess?”

He tugged her waist towards his, pressing his hips against hers so she could feel the entire length of his morning wood. X gulped and lowered her head, barely hiding that adorable little smile that had his heart fluttering with delight every damn time he saw it. “Jaaaay ….”

Jason grinned and lifted her up onto his hips.

“Come on, princess,” he decided, kissing her on the temple as he carried her back to their bedroom. “I need a shower and you don't want to be late, do you?”

X spread her arms wide and gave Tim a big hug when he opened the door. “Merry Christmas, Tim Tam!”

“Merry Christmas, X!” Tim patted her on the back in return, then took the cake she held in her hands. His gaze drifted over to the large pile of presents nestled in Jason’s arms and he rearranged his features into a puzzled expression. “Oh! A sentient pile of Christmas gifts? What happened to Jay? I thought he would have come with you.”

“Ha ha, real funny, Tim Tam,” Jason said, walking past him into the house. He resisted the urge to dump the presents on the ground and instead, swallowed down his irritation and carefully set them down by the tree - X had spent so much time picking out the perfect gift for everyone and then carefully wrapping them all up by herself and Jason would literally throw himself off a cliff if he did something to ruin her favourite holiday for her. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at Jason as he shut the door behind X. “Or what? You gonna take me out back and fight me, Jay Jay?”

Jason got up and turned to face Tim, his hands clenched into fists by his side.

“Wait,” X interjected, stepping in between the two of them and placing a hand on each of their chests. “Hold on. Are the two of you using the nicknames I made for you to make fun of each other?”

Tim and Jason exchanged equal looks of apprehension at the threat in X’s tone. It took a lot to get her angry, but … you know what they say about people who rarely get angry.

X moved one hand to her chest and continued to lean on Jason with the other as she bent over in exaggerated hurt. “How could you? I made those nicknames with love and affection and to show you how much each of you mean to me.”

She looked at each of them in turn, scrunching her features up as if she was about to cry. Then she dealt the killing blow. “And you take them and use them as insults?!”

The boys fumbled for words, both of them trying to reassure X and calm her down. But then Dick walked out of the kitchen in an apron, spots of flour dotting his cheeks as he approached them.

“Who wants to make-” He stopped short when he saw the upset look on X’s face. His gaze flickered between Jason and Tim and he narrowed his eyes at them in suspicion. “What did you two do? You made X cry?! On Christmas?!”

X looked up at Dick with a pathetic look on her face, trying to draw even more sympathy from him. “They were making fun of my loving nicknames for them.”

“Aww, come on, princess,” Jason pleaded, wrapping an arm around X and bending over to meet her gaze. “You know we didn't mean it like that. We love the nicknames you give us!”

Tim nodded eagerly in agreement and Jason brought his mouth closer to X’s ear so no one else would be able to hear his sugary sweet words of apology.

“I love you, babygirl,” he reminded her, squeezing her against him and peppering her face with sweet kisses. “You gonna smile for me? You gonna give me that cute little smile you know drives me crazy? I love you, baby. Don't be mad at me on Christmas!”

X’s lips curled at the ends as she began melting at his words, her resolve crumbling with each sweet kiss he gave her. “Okay.”

Jason grinned and held her close as she wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug.

“Hey, Dick,” Duke began, coming out of the kitchen in an apron of his own, “the gingerbread's done. Oh! Hey, X! Hey, Jason!”

“Are you guys gonna start making gingerbread houses now?” X asked, so excited Jason could practically feel her buzzing in his arms.

“Yup!” Duke confirmed. “You wanna join us?”

X looked up at Jason with a smile too adorable for him to resist. He loosened his grip on her, allowing her to grab his arm and tug her with him into the kitchen.

“Hi Alfred!” X greeted him with a wave. “Merry Christmas!”

“Miss X, Master Todd. Merry Christmas to the both of you.”

“You too, Alfred,” Jason replied. X stopped by the kitchen island and inhaled the sweet, tangy scent of gingerbread wafting through the air.

“Mmm! Smells delicious!” She walked over to an empty tray on the kitchen island and began gathering the ingredients she needed to make a house of her own.

Jason leaned against the counter beside her and studied her carefully, quietly learning how to build a gingerbread house - well, learning how she liked her gingerbread house to be built. He’d never really participated in Christmas traditions before they’d started dating, only ever showing up at the last minute for dinner, but … Christmas made her happy; and she made him happy. “Why don’t you do a dovetail joint for the roof? That way the pieces will stick together more and the house will be stronger.”

X turned to face him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “A what?”

“A dovetail joint,” Jason repeated. He grabbed one of the sheets of gingerbread from her hand and picked up a knife to start slicing a castle-like pattern into one side of it. X watched with amusement how seriously he took the task, his thick brows lowered over his moss-green eyes as he focused on spreading just enough icing on the gingerbread for the two pieces he’d carved out to stick together.

“Like that!” he exclaimed finally, sliding an arm around her waist as he took a step back to admire his own work. He turned to X, waiting for her approval, and her chest warmed at the cute puppy-dog look on her large and intimidating boyfriend’s face. She squeezed his shoulder and stretched onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re so clever, Jay,” she praised him sweetly. “What should we do next?”

Jason snuck a peak at Duke’s and Dick’s respective houses, considering his next steps.

“Oh! We should make windows! But we need to make sure they’re fortified enough so the whole house doesn’t collapse,” he decided, lowering himself to his knees so he was eye-level with the countertop. “And we need to make sure they’re the right size, too …”

He glanced around the table and his eyes lit up when he spotted a cylinder with some toothpicks in it. He pushed himself to his feet and glided the toothpicks across the island to X. “Baby, could you help me snap these in half and cover them in some gingerbread? We’ll use these as the window panes.”

X’s lips wobbled as she tried to suppress her smile.

“Sure, sweetheart,” she obliged, setting to work immediately. But it wasn’t long before Jason decided he needed to take charge on that task too.

“No, wait,” he stopped her. “You’re making them too thick, doll.”

X pressed her lips together to stop a laugh from spilling out of them. She stretched onto her toes and wrapped her arms around Jason’s neck from behind. “You want to take over, Jay? I can go help with the tree.”

“Hmm? Yeah, sure, baby,” he replied distractedly. He kept his eyes glued to his gingerbread prototype as he slid one arm around her waist and tugged her into his side. “Come here for a second.”

He bent over and pecked her lips a few times, coaxing a delighted giggle out of her and curious looks out of Duke and Dick. “I’ll come find you once I’m done?”

X nodded, her smile widening at how quickly his hands returned to the gingerbread house once she’d agreed. “Okay. See you later, love!”

“Mmm, see you later, sweetheart.”

X bit her lip as she appraised the tree together with Tim, Damian, Steph and Cass. “It’s … okay, I guess …”

“You don’t have to lie to us, X,” Tim assured her, “it sucks.”

“I mean …” She trailed off, trying to find the words to minimise how disappointing the tiny plastic tree was. But Tim was right; it really did suck. X let out a defeated sigh. “You’re right, it sucks.”

It was so glaringly obvious how fake the tree was and it was so cheap that it wasn't even able to hold half the ornaments they had before it had started tilting to one side! “But it’s too late to go buy another one now.”

“X! X!” Jason skidded out of the kitchen, his face covered in patches of flour and a streak of icing smeared across his forehead. He grinned when his eyes landed on his girlfriend, but his features quickly creased with concern when he noticed the upset look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing …” She leaned into Jason’s side as he came up beside her, letting him cuddle her against him, then she forced her lips into a smile and looked up at him. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Jason exclaimed, remembering what he’d gone to find her for. “I finished my gingerbread house! You wanna come see?”

He flashed her an excited grin and X felt herself start to perk up again at his delight. “Of course, baby!”

She reached up to wipe the icing off his forehead and Jason positively melted at the tender gesture. He started leading her to the kitchen and the others followed close behind, curious to see how Jason’s first ever gingerbread house would turn out. Stephanie leaned over to Tim and whispered softly in his ear. “Uh, are we sure that’s our Jason? He’s not, like, some twisted clone Ra’s sent to mess with us?”

Tim narrowed his eyes at Jason’s back, his own suspicion growing now that Stephanie had mentioned it.

“Hmm, one can’t be too sure …” he supposed, thinking of all the past Christmases Jason had intentionally tried to ruin. Then his expression faltered as he recalled the Jason he’d seen before he himself had assumed the mantle of Robin. “But Jason … didn’t always used to be … Red Hood …”

Steph raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding what he was trying to say.

“What are we talking about?” Damian asked, springing up out of nowhere. Stephanie and Tim jumped back in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

“Jesus, Dames!” Stephanie breathed, clutching her chest to try to calm her racing her heart. “We were just discussing whether or not Jason got replaced by some super-affectionate Christmas-loving clone of himself or something.”

Damian fell silent again as he considered the couple walking in front of them, Jason animatedly explaining to X all of the different techniques he’d used to build the perfect gingerbread house. “But Todd is always like that when he’s with X. Last week, he upgraded her boots so she can flick knives out of the soles now! And he made us cinnamon rolls.”

“‘Us’?” Stephanie repeated incredulously. “What do you mean ‘us’?”

“Wait,” Tim stopped her. “I’m more interested in the ‘cinnamon rolls’ part now.”

“I go to their apartment once a week so X can help me with my biology homework. And then both of them help me with my literature homework,” Damian explained, shrugging as if it was no big deal that he just casually visited their apartment every week. “And the cinnamon rolls could use some work, but it was an adequate first attempt.”

Stephanie and Tim exchanged confused looks as they tried to process Damian’s revelation. But suddenly, they stopped short in the kitchen.

“What,” Steph began.

“The heck,” Tim supplied.

“Is that?!”

Jason turned to face them, grinning proudly at the shocked expressions on their faces.

“It’s my gingerbread house,” he announced. The group craned their heads back, incredulously studying Jason’s ten-foot tall gingerbread house. The thing was probably big enough to house an actual person! Jason turned to X and shot her a smug smile when he saw her eyes widen in wonder. “What do you think, baby? Do you like it?”

“Yes! Oh my god! It’s amazing!” X slung her arms around Jason’s neck and pulled him down to her so she could pepper his face with kisses. “You did such a good job, Jay! Mwah!”

Jason smiled giddily, his expression turning dazed at his girlfriend’s outpouring of affection.

“Good job, Todd,” Damian agreed, nodding at the house in approval. “Now, can you do something about the tree?”

Jason raised an eyebrow as he straightened, regaining his focus. “What’s wrong with the tree?”

He turned to X in question and she let out an exaggerated sigh in response.

“They said that ‘it sucks',” Cass supplied helpfully, the bright smile on her face at odds with her statement.

“Oh! Shit! My bad!” Dick cursed, shooting them a guilty smile as he raised his hand in the air. “I was supposed to pick one up from the tree farm last week, but Penguin’s goons kept sneaking around Bludhaven, so I got a plastic one as a temporary placeholder.”

Jason rubbed X’s side as he glared at Dick in anger. How dare his brother try to ruin his precious girlfriend’s favourite holiday! What kind of idiot forgot the f*cking tree for f*cking Christmas?! He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes as he tried to calm himself down for the sake of his sweet little girlfriend.

Dick watched Jason warily, frantically trying to think of an excuse that might calm him down. His gaze flickered over to X and he shot her a pleading look. “But it’s not that big of a deal, right, X? Christmas is about cherishing the time with the ones you love, not decorating trees and making gingerbread houses … right?”

X swallowed hard at the desperate expression on Dick’s face and pushed down her disappointment with the fake tree. He did have a point, she tried to convince herself, even if it was her first Christmas with Jason and his family: she usually visited her own family during the holidays and she’d always push Jason to at least go over to his for dinner, but after moving in together earlier that year, she’d decided that she wanted to get involved in her sweet boyfriend’s traditions too. And maybe make some of their own that they might share with their own little family one day. “Ri-”

“No,” Jason asserted, causing X to look up at him in bewilderment.

“What?” Dick asked, equally as confused as X to find a look of determination set into his younger brother’s face. Jason pointed at Tim and Dick and gestured for the two of them to follow him.

“You and you, you’re coming with me,” he commanded, not waiting for them to follow. Dick exchanged a puzzled glance with Tim as the two of them rushed to keep up with Jason, but Tim just shrugged at him in response.

“Where are we going?” Dick asked. Jason stopped by the door to take a dramatic pause. Then he looked up into the distance, his gaze intense.

“To save Christmas.”

94 notes · View notes

uhdrienne · 2 days ago

Text

'tis the damn season

🍂 feat: old flame!lee jihoon x actress!reader

🍂 genre: sfw, fluff, angst, exes to lovers, city to town life

🍂 wc: ~8.5k

🍂 summary: an actress yet to make it big in the city, you return to your hometown for christmas for the first time since leaving. seasons have changed, along with life as you know it. jihoon, however, has not, and as you spend the festive season with him this year, you struggle to get past what your life could have been if your decision had been different.

🍂 author's note: merry christmas! nothing like a christmas story to really feel the season <3 there's another note right at the bottom if you'd like to know how the story came about... but meanwhile, enjoy the story and as always, let me know what you think 🎄

T h i s Y e a r

The trees outside the window pass in a blur. Your manager glances at you from the passenger seat, and you notice it from the periphery of your vision.

"You're excited to go home for Christmas, no?"

"I am," You reply, but your voice, try as you might to make it sound enthusiastic in the spirit of the festive holiday, your voice comes out hollow, empty.

Your manager clicks his tongue. "Then try to sound like it. Your parents would not be happy to see how sullen their daughter has become."

"Nothing has happened to me, Ray," You murmur. "I just... going home after so long..."

"That happens to every star I work with," Ray remarks. "Always so jarring for them to go home."

"Other stars, yes," You reply quietly. "I...am not one."

"Not with that attitude, you aren't!" Ray chirps. "You just haven't bloomed yet. Remember the feedback about your role in 'Blacklist'? The papers praised it."

"It was just a cameo, Ray. And it all died down within a week," You remind him, not unkindly, as you are still appreciative that he wanted to compliment you. "I think the agency wouldn't lose out if my contract isn't renewed."

"Nonsense!" Ray declares as the car pulls onto a familiar bridge. Up ahead, you see old thatched roofs, the houses looming larger as you near the village. "I will talk with them, see what auditions we can put you up for. You're talented, just undiscovered."

You chuckle. "Thanks."

"Have a good Christmas break, Y/N," Ray says comfortingly, as the car finally pulls to a stop in front of your front door. "It's the season to be with your family. Don't think about work."

You nod, beginning to clamber out of the car. "You too, Ray. See you in a couple weeks."

As the car finally pulls out of the cobbled path, you gather your belongings about you, and look up at a shout of your name.

"Dad?"

"My dear girl!" Your father enthuses, drawing you into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home, sweetie. Oh, you've lost weight, haven't you?"

"Hm? No, not that much," You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to eating my body weight in Mom's food, though."

"She's more excited to have you home," Your father laughs. "You coming home has been all she can talk about nowadays. I think Mrs. Lee and Jihoon have had enough--"

Your blood freezes at the mention of that name. "What?"

"Mrs. Lee and Jihoon, of course."

"O-Of course." You stammer. Thankfully, your dad doesn't pick up on it as he relieves you of your luggage.

Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon.

A big oak tree, an old swing, two children perched upon it, side by side.

"I'm gonna go to the big city one day!" The young girl whoops.

"For what?" The boy asked.

"To live! Mom says there are tall buildings and cars and big shops. Wouldn't it be so fun?"

"Sounds boring." The boy yawns.

"I'll bring you along!" The girl says obstinately. "I'll show you how fun it can be."

"Fine," The boy replies, swinging his small feet back and forth. "Let's go together when we grow up."

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Come on! I think your mother's going to freak herself out if we don't start going over."

"Coming!"

"I still don't get what you're doing in that grotty town."

"It's my hometown, Rina."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot you came from a forest." Your (kind of) friend's voice drawls on the other end. "I'm off, I have a YSL fitting in like twenty minutes. I'll catch you soon if you decide to leave, yeah?"

"Okay, b-" The line beeping cuts you off. You lie back on your bed, massaging your temples.

Your mother had laugh-cried her way into a hug once you made it through the door, lamenting how hard it was to see her star daughter these days. It was all you could do to bite your tongue and avoid correcting her.

You were not a star. Not at all. While your friends in the industry had piles of scripts waiting for their perusal and selection, you simply accepted whatever you got.

You didn't miss the poorly concealed smiles of mock pity directed at you when everyone shared about their recent works at afterparties. But you knew you always did your best at every role you got, no matter how small they were. Yet... there were moments when you wondered if hard work truly surpassed luck and star quality.

Your muddled mind shifts back to the setting in the kitchen as happy voices and laughter drift upstairs. The look on Jihoon's face when you made eye contact for the first time in almost three years stops you in your tracks.

He looked as relaxed and calm as ever, dressed in a comfy-looking sweater and loose pants. Nursing a cup of coffee with his mother in your kitchen where he'd been countless times, he still resembled the young man you'd left behind.

But gone was the softness in his eyes from when you last saw him. Replacing it was a certain coldness, a tough look you couldn't place. That look had only intensified as he took you in, dressed in a thick fleece coat, black pants, and boot heels to match. He had nodded his head to you in greeting, but it had lacked warmth. Understandable, really.

You had flounced upstairs after the necessary greetings, citing a large load of luggage to unpack as your excuse.

A knock on your door makes you flinch. You open it, and pause at the person standing outside. "...Jihoon."

"Your mom says to come down. She says the food's almost ready and you look too thin."

"Right. Right, I'm coming."

He shrugs and then turns away. His footsteps draw away from your room.

You pinch colour into your cheeks, the way you did when things got too hard, and brace yourself.

Jihoon was staying for dinner.

"So tell us what you acted in!" Your mom says cheerfully as she heaps food onto your plate. "I keep wanting to keep up with your shows, but it's strange, I haven't seen them on the main channel. Are they on streaming platforms or something?"

Your face falls slightly. She was right, half right to be precise. Your shows rarely ever made it onto mainstream television. And if they did, your roles were usually so small you'd just appear onscreen once. With that, it was borderline impossible for you to appear on Netflix.

Your dad rolls his eyes. "It's Christmas, dear. We should give her a break. Why, she came home to see all of us! We know how busy she is."

You shoot a grateful glance to your dad, which he returns with a wink as he raises his glass of wine. "Cheers to that."

As everyone at the table raises their glasses to meet in a sweet clinking sound, and your lips meet the rim to drink, you almost forget the way Jihoon's eyes strayed away from his plate to you when your mother brought your job up.

You're about to wash up when your father enters your room.

"Dad!" You smile, slightly buzzed by the wine and the relaxation you felt, now that you were getting used to being home. "What's up?"

I just thought I'd check in on you before we turn in," He opens his arms, and you gladly step into them. He hums as he pats your head. "Are you getting used to being here? I know it's very different from the city, but.."

"I love it, Pop," You interrupt, understanding his worry. "Nothing can really beat home, right?"

"Right," He murmurs, and he coughs to mask up a suspiciously quick sniff. "Right. Well... sleep early. Tomorrow we'll go on a stroll, and see all the stuff you've missed. We can go visit Jihoon, if you want."

"Jihoon?"

"Yeah! He's got a big truck now, helping out with the family courier business... I heard he wanted to go to the city, but he's a good man, staying back here to help his parents."

You steel yourself to ask, "Did he ever say why he wanted to go to the city?"

"Hmm... he told your mom he wanted to go find an old friend when she asked. But, I suppose that can wait for him, since he hasn't mentioned leaving at all for a while."

You only hum in response.

"He didn't show it much, but his mother says he became much more quiet after you left. You two must have been really close, huh?"

The closest in the world, you wanted to tell him, but your own mouth just couldn't utter the words.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Flowers? For me?"

"Don't make a big fuss,"

"Tulips and baby's breath! Damn, you know the way to my heart. Hold on, I'll find a vase."

"Be quick. I'm taking you somewhere and we can't be late for it."

"Is it a reservation outside the town? Jihoon, I told you that breakfast place is so expensive for absolutely no rea-"

"It's not a reservation. I've already decided, we're going to the 24-hour diner since you said you like their waffles. Somewhere else."

"You're turning red. What's up?"

"The sky. Now hurry up."

He ended up bringing you to see the sunrise. He kissed you on the cheek in the backseat of his father's (much smaller back then) truck and when you got home close to noon, he brought you to the door, stumbled out a shaky and rushed "I like you", and squeezed your hand when you smiled at him.

It was the first of many dates, snuggling on the couch, overdramatic arguments about whether Rose let Jack freeze, and above all, the first moments of a lifetime spent together. You both knew it was a given.

T h i s Y e a r

"Uncle," Jihoon greets your father before his eyes land on you. His mouth tightens.

"Hi," You say meekly, feeling like the seven-year-old girl who would hide behind her parents to do introductions on her behalf. He doesn't respond, simply lets his eyes pass over you and back to your father.

Your dad doesn't seem fazed, as he remarks, "Cleaning the truck, Hoon? It's a good brand you've got there. Impressed whenever I see it."

Jihoon lets out a polite laugh. "Yes, well... I thought I'd invest in a good one since it'll be used for a while."

Your father turns to you. "Have you ever sat in a truck?"

You shake your head no. You never got to do that on set either.

He claps his hands. "Wonderful! Jihoon agreed to bring you out on a spin around the town. I have to pick up some things for your mom for Christmas Eve, you know how she gets. And I didn't think you'd want to spend your holiday grocery shopping with me. I'd feel at ease if Jihoon is here."

Your face tightens. "What do you mean?"

Jihoon clears his throat. "Uh-"

"You two were inseparable," Your father explains cheerfully. "Nothing like a good catch-up! Jihoon, drive safe, yeah?"

And then he's backing down the walkway, waving to you both. And now it's just you and your ex-boyfriend.

Jihoon looks away from you. "Get in, I guess."

And you do. No matter what Jihoon said, it always had a magnetic effect on you. Even if that same voice is now laced with unfamiliarity and slight coldness, you wouldn't say no to him.

Soon enough you're cruising through the small town, Jihoon's eyes trained on the road. As he slows down at a red light, you hesitantly ask, "How is everything with you?"

"Fine," He answers curtly, with no further elaboration.

Well. You can't say you were surprised.

You swallow and lean back into the seat.

"It's a nice truck," You remark lamely, in a desperate hope of starting conversation. "Your dad finally decided to get a new one?"

"It isn't my dad's," Jihoon replies, monotone still. "It's mine."

"Oh."

You should have known. The truck was much larger, its seats bigger than what you remember sitting in countless times as a teenager when his dad would pick you both up from school or to each other's houses.

After a short silence, you ask once more, "Where are we going?"

"To the coast. Your dad said youmissed the place."

"That's nice," You murmur back, emotions already deflated.

Of course, it had to be the coast. He brought you there to see the sunrise, and that was where you'd finally made it official. Clearly, the memories were just as raw for him, as you noticed him physically gritting his teeth as he stopped the truck.

"We don't have to go there-" You begin, but he cuts in stiffly. "I'm bringing you here to kill time while your dad does his stuff. Don't be mistaken."

"Right," You clear your throat awkwardly. "Of course not."

You're wondering how painful it would be to throw yourself out of the truck in embarrassment when your phone rings. It's Ray, so you mumble a quick "sorry" to Jihoon, who doesn't react, and pick up.

"Ray?"

"Hey, Y/N. How's the holidays so far?"

"Good? What's up?"

"Um..."

"Ray," You tease slightly, "You never call just to ask about my holidays. What's going on?"

"So...I just got back the results for your audition for 'Freak Show'."

"How is it?" You ask, breath caught in your throat. "Ray?"

A heavy sigh comes across the line. "I'm sorry, sweets. I know how much you wanted this role."

Your heart drops, and so does your expression.

"I'm trying to at least get you a supporting role since you liked the script so much, I'll let you-"

"Ray." You take a soft breath. Ray's voice halts. "Yeah?"

"Forget it."

"But-"

"Please... just forget it," You almost sound like you're begging. "I can't sit through doing another role no one's even going to remember. I've worked my ass off, Ray, I've gone for thousands of auditions for the past seven years, and not once have I ever gotten a callback for a lead role. I even tried to re-audition, but that damn assistant director spread the word of my so-called 'desperation', my fucking ex-manager did that stupid interview with the TV, and I ended up nowhere!"

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry," You sigh immediately, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry about that. I'm really thankful that you help me, always. Without you, I might have been entirely jobless and the agency would have fired me."

"Oh, hun," Your manager murmurs comfortingly. "Like I said, you're a good actress. Really good. It's just a pity things went south and you met that assistant director who wanted to screw with you. Otherwise, you'd be on the front pages everywhere now."

"I...It's fine. I'll live. Just, Ray..."

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Rina and the rest if they call to ask, okay?"

"Your friends..?"

"Yeah. I... I want to tell them myself." More like no, you never want them to know. You can already see the fake disappointment on Rina's face when she whips her phone out to tell the chat made up of almost twenty actresses.

Ray agrees, and he tells you again not to stress too much before cutting the call. You lean against the cushion of your seat, closing your eyes, and when someone clears his throat you flinch. "Jihoon. Sorry."

He doesn't respond, simply looks at you as if you're a stranger, and you swallow nervously. "My manager called," You explain feebly, not that he even asked.

He nods once. "I heard." His eyes aren't exactly angry, they are still slightly cold, but there's something in them that seems more curious now.

You rub your eyes to snap yourself out, and you muster a smile at him. "So where are we going?"

"To get food," He replies. "That hot dog truck you liked a lot back then is here today, my dad told me."

"Oh, that's okay--"

"Don't eat hot dogs anymore?" He asks wryly, as he puts the truck in reverse and starts parking.

"Of course I do," You reply immediately, folding your arms. "Are you mad? Giving up on snacking?"

A flicker of a smile appears across his typically stoic face before he schools it and reverts to his stern expression. "I wouldn't know. You're stick thin, anyone would think you gave up fast food."

"Well. That just comes with exercise and occasional diets. And I'm not as thin as you say," You murmur. "But no. I wouldn't give up late-night cravings. My manager's one of the nicer ones."

Jihoon snorts slightly as he turns the engine off. "Thank goodness for that, I suppose?"

You shrug, and motion for him to lead the way to the hot dog stall as you climb out of the truck. You follow him down a rough patch of grass and rocks, all while he maintains a healthy distance. The sun warms your skin, and you breathe in the fresh, salty coast air.

"I'm sorry about the role, by the way. You must have worked extra hard for it," Jihoon says suddenly, hands in his pockets as he walks next to you, now back on solid ground, and you turn to face him, your face colouring in... embarrassment? Shame? "You heard my manager?"

"No. Just you, I put the pieces together."

Oh. "Right."

"Is it not...going well?" He motions with his hand vaguely. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"It's fine, Jihoon," You stifle a reluctant laugh. "You can ask."

He stays silent so you continue. "I'm not getting any lead roles, only minor ones even if I put everything I have into it..." You sigh. "My friends don't really mention me, or they make little remarks about my rejections. As an adult, you'd think I shouldn't be bothered, but it just... it gets loud sometimes."

A few moments pass, your sneakers shuffling through the sand, when Jihoon finally says, "They don't seem like friends to me."

You let out a half-chuckle. "That's how showbiz is, I guess."

"No," Jihoon disagrees. "It doesn't matter if it's the industry or not. Friends are here to lift you up, not celebrate your downs. They shouldn't be doing that to you."

He goes silent after and as you get nearer, the food truck coming into view, you mull over what he just told you.

"I guess you’re right," You finally concede after a small pause. "They really shouldn't."

He says nothing more about it, and simply exchanges swift greetings with the stall owner, who seems to know him well. You try to smile weakly at the owner, but with your emotions still running high, you can only hope it doesn't come out as a grimace.

He gets hot dogs for both of you, and you look on gratefully and with a little surprise as he reels off your order word for word: a large hot dog bun with mustard, ketchup, and extra grilled onions. He gets a soda for each of you too, and you almost groan in satisfaction when the food is done. He looks on, looking slightly amused when you dig in.

"Not your usual fine dining concept, sorry." He says as he watches you take a big bite.

"Are you kidding? Way better," You mumble through your mouthful, and he snorts before taking a bite himself.

Just like that, the tension from earlier dissolves into something a little softer, a little gentler.

"So," Jihoon says later, as you're polishing off your soda. "What's been up with you these few years?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't come back to visit your parents. They don't say it, but they get really worried when you don't call."

"Oh."

He raises his eyebrows at you, prompting you to go on.

"Life gets in the way." You explain, resigned. "I want to call home too, but I'm either fighting for roles that I know I'll never get or I'm trying out for more auditions. Plus, the past few years weren't a good time."

"Why?"

"Old manager," You reply, frowning at the sheer memory of the mess you engulfed yourself in two years ago. "Put me on stupid diets for no reason and when this assistant director snitched on me for being 'desperate for roles' when I tried reapplying, he gave a secret interview to the reporters."

Jihoon scowls slightly. "Right. I heard about that. Prick." You laugh out loud. "Yeah. A real prick."

"And then?"

"Not much else. I was trying to clear my name, and by then I wasn't getting that many roles either."

Jihoon doesn't say anything, and you steal a glance at him. He looks... conflicted would be a good way to put it. Like he doesn't know what to say or do.

Before you can think of something to say, anything to dispel the sudden tension, he suddenly gets to his feet. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay... is everything alright?" Was that your imagination, or did he just clench his teeth?

"Fine." Yup, he was definitely gritting his teeth. You're beyond perplexed. But with how angry he already looks, you're not sure you want to aggravate him further, so you get up, toss your cup into the bin, and follow him back to the truck.

The whole journey is spent in silence, and a lot of uncertain glances from your end.

When he drops you off at your home twenty minutes later, he doesn't say anything as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Jihoon?" You ask, turning to face him in the seat.

"Yes?"

His face freezes slightly when you tell him, "Thanks for today. I had lots of fun."

He swallows nervously, evident in the bob of his Adam's apple as he shrugs. "No problem."

"And…um… thanks for still remembering my hot dog order." You say softly, before turning to climb out of the truck.

When you get to your front porch, and then climb the stairs to your room, you look out the window.

He's still there.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Did you just say you're...leaving?"

"I got the audition. It's my big break... if I don't take the chance now, I might not ever get to. It's my dream, you know that."

"What else?"

"Huh?"

"Your dreams this, your big break that. Don't you have anything else to say?"

"...What can I say?"

"What do you mean, what can you say? What about us?"

T h i s Y e a r

The next morning arrives in the form of your mother standing over your bed. “Hey, darl, wake up!”

“Mhmm?” You mumble from under your covers and you hear her chuckle before she peels your blanket back.

“Jihoon’s mom is coming over to help with Christmas Eve dinner,” she explains. “But I totally forgot about the school donation.”

“School donation…?” What is she talking about?

“Oh! Right. So we donate a bunch of food every year to your old school. You remember it, right? Near the Methodist church?”

“Yeah,” You yawn, stretching up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“They pass it to orphanages for children who don’t have Christmas dinner this season. I’ve had it prepared since this morning, but with Jihoon’s mom and the dinner, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop by the school,” She looks regretful. “Would you mind helping with that, dear?”

“Sure,” You reply, cracking your neck. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, mom.”

“Thanks, hun,” Your mom says, looking relieved. “It’s quite a lot. We had lots to give this year. Mrs Lee said she’d send Jihoon to help you.”

“Huh?”

“I wouldn’t send you into the cold holding tons of heavy bags!” Your mom fusses. “Wash up and eat before you go — your dad got the most amazing bread yesterday.”

After she leaves, you sit there, wide awake.

Jihoon is coming.

That fact alone has you hurrying to tidy yourself for god knows what, even applying a bit of mascara and lip gloss to salvage your face.

Your phone pings as you start tidying your table, and you look at Ray's name popping on the screen.

"Remember your audition and screen test with the director of 'Who Knows Why'?" The text reads. "He's making the final decision for the female lead of his new holiday film. This guy has high standards and his films are very popular, but he likes picking new faces over the same old stars. A few of your friends are in the choices too, but...I just have a feeling this could be it. I'll let you know again. Happy holidays!"

You sigh. Who Knows Why made headlines for weeks when it hit the cinemas, critics and film connoisseurs alike singing its praises. Unless a miracle selected you while you were sleeping, you very much doubted you would make it past.

By the time you get downstairs and have a few pieces of the toasted bread — which is amazing, all warm and toasty and fresh — the doorbell rings, and your mom rushes to get the door.

“Mrs Lee!” She exclaims, hurriedly ushering the other lady into the house. “Thanks for coming by today.”

As the two exchange pleasantries, Jihoon steps into the house, removing his boots and smiling slightly when your mother coos over him too.

He merely nods in acknowledgement when he sees you. The contrast makes your stomach clench slightly.

“Ah, Jihoon,” His mother says. “Make sure to help Y/N with the bags of food, yeah?”

He simply nods again, a soft “okay” escaping his mouth, before he approaches you.

“Let’s get going,” He says conversationally.

“Okay,” You reply nervously. He raises his eyebrows as he walks to the heaping table.

He picks out most of them. Especially the biggest and bulkiest ones.

It’s fifteen minutes later when you’re walking down the path when he breaks the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You ask. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing. I thought with the role thing… never mind.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, you’d barely thought of it since the hot dog outing. “Uh… I mean, what’s past is past, right?”

“I suppose.” He replies, non-committal.

And there it goes again. The choking, awkward silence that just doesn’t seem to dissipate no matter what either of you.

There’s a bit of fuss when you reach the school, what with all the grunt work passing over the food and making sure the right people get the right things, and that provides a little relief, at least for an hour or so.

After it’s all over, you find yourself at the school gates where you first met Jihoon, with the very same man, now twenty years on.

“It hasn’t changed much,” You observe.

Jihoon shrugs. “I guess. It’s like very little time passed.”

That roadblock comes back.

You swallow. “Um, Jihoon.”

He makes a humming sound in response.

“Are we…okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” You admit, pulling at your sweater. “You seemed angry when we were out the other day and…”

“I’m not mad.”

“Right.”

You're not convinced.

“I’m really not.” He insists, although you haven’t even said anything to contradict him.

“I know. You said so.”

“Well, you sure don’t sound like you believe me.” He says, rather scathingly.

You shoot him a quizzical look. It was a choice between acting dumb or admitting that after all this time, he could still read you like a book.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” He laughs bitterly. “You never do, anyway.” He turns away as he says this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, slightly affronted.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” He says in a sudden show of annoyance. “Not even one call all these years, and when you finally show up back here, I find out how shit your so-called dream life has been. But I don’t know! It could just be me.”

“Jihoon-”

“And I’m just thinking, you gave up all of this?” He waves his arm outward. “You gave up everything back here… for what you have now? Was it even worth it in the end?”

“I thought that was what I wanted.” You try to answer, but it comes out pathetically. He was spot-on.

You left your family, your home, the love of your life… for something that ended up being unworthy in the slightest.

And you were now reaping the consequences.

“I…” Jihoon rubs his face, his anger now cooled into something like resignation. “You made your choice. I get that. I’m trying to understand. I just… I don’t know why you thought the life you have now, with fake friends and unnecessary drama, was better than peace.”

"It wasn't that I wanted to go through all of that... I --"

He stares at you, waiting for you to go on. But it's as if someone has sealed your mouth shut, as nothing escapes it.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"You won't even bother trying? Will you fight for us?"

"How can I? The agent made it clear... once I step out, dating is out of the question.."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave for some big city, and I'll just be stuck here, waiting for someone who's already made her choice?"

"Jihoon, I... fuck, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All of it. I let you down."

Never had you seen your boyfriend regard you with as much disappointment as he did now.

"You did, Y/N. You really did. God, I thought--I thought we mattered more than those billboards."

"Jihoon-"

"But there's no point, right? You already made your decision. You don't intend to look back at all, do you?"

"I-"

Jihoon sighed, and bent his head in resignation, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally raised his head. "Then why are you still here?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I won't hold you back. Go on."

Silence, the raging kind that had never once blossomed between you both, took over.

After what seemed like an eternity, your mouth opened.

"We... we leave on the 17th."

He doesn't look up from his lap as you exit his room, down the creaking stairs of his family home for the last time, and you come face to face with his mom.

"Chase your dreams, dear," She'd said, clasping your hands, although you thought you saw unshed tears in her eyes as your own streaked down your face. "Come home and visit us sometime. Jihoon will be okay."

You did leave on the 17th. Jihoon turned up with his parents, and as his mom kissed you on the forehead and gave you her blessings, his gaze stayed on you, but he didn't step forward to say goodbye.

He kept looking on as you climbed into the car, and in the rearview mirror as it pulled away, you thought you saw him start to raise his hand in a momentary wave.

But then he was far gone behind you, and now you only had the road ahead for company.

T h i s Y e a r

The truck ride back is silent again. Jihoon doesn't even look in your direction, except to check his blind spots and adjacent lanes. Your mind is equally messed up, thinking about everything he said to you.

Was he right? Had you lost your way, and bargained everything you could have lived with, in exchange for friends who couldn't care less about you, and a career akin to a peakless, uphill slope?

Finally, when the silence becomes a thick, choking fog, you finally speak up. "Jihoon?"

He glances to you for a fraction of a second. "Yes?"

"If..." You struggle to find the words. "If... I hadn't made that choice..."

His head turns to you fully, his gaze now sharp. "What?"

You have to plan out what you want to say, word for word, before you go on. "If I chose to stay back then... would we have lasted? Would we have..."

Jihoon turns back to the road. "Would we have stayed together? Do you want my honest answer?"

You nod imperceptibly. "More than anything."

"We would," He says quietly, but with no hesitation as he makes a left. "I would have told you that we should set up a joint account and plan for a home together in maybe three years. I would've told you that we could go on weekly grocery runs and start thinking about moving in together. And I probably would have told you that I love you."

You freeze.

"It sounds unnecessary and stupid, but I don't want you to burden yourself with that, now," He says, sitting back and looking straight ahead. "I know you don't belong here, or to me, anymore. That's life, and we all move on, one way or another. Plus it's Christmas, and you're here now, so.... you should enjoy it before you leave."

And that's that. Just a reminder for you to enjoy yourself before you inevitably have to go. None of you need to speak to know that the conversation is over.

The drive resumes in silence.

You can't sleep. You've tossed and turned a million times, head pounding with exhaustion, but something's just stopping your eyes from shutting. Unfortunately, you know exactly why.

Jihoon's there in your mind. Sometimes the calm, steady person he's always been, sometimes a roaring, dark figure glaring at you the way he did when you said you were leaving.

Around two in the morning, you finally sit up. You have to go to Jihoon. You don't know what you're going to say, but if you don't find him, he will never stop haunting you.

You slip on a warm sweater and shoes, and gently close the front door behind you. The village is truly ready for the festivities, all twinkling golden lights and lightly falling snow. But none of that matters as you pad through the white fluff towards Jihoon's home.

When he opens the door, he's dishevelled, but doesn't show signs of having just woken up. "Uh... it's two a.m...?"

"I know it is," You say apologetically. "I'm sorry. I, uh... I couldn't sleep."

He raises his eyebrows. "Ah. I see."

You're beginning to regret this. Maybe you should've thought this through. "Look, it's okay, I'm really sorry for bothering you--"

"Guess that makes two of us," He says conversationally, as if it isn't the dead of night. "Come in. It's cold."

You wait for him to walk in before following him into the house. Try as you might, you just can't shake the feeling of nostalgia that rushes through you as you walk around the house you've visited a million times.

You know that his favourite grey mug is on the cabinet shelf above the sink. The earl grey cookies he can't live without is on the counter. The stairs still creak a little when you step on the floorboards nearby. You know him and everything that belongs to him. You know it all.

You take a seat at his table. "Will your parents be upset that I came at this hour?"

He eyes you wryly. "You know silly questions get silly answers."

You know your question is nearly pointless. You've left late, slept over, even gotten drunk in this house and his parents still doted on you nevertheless.

You shrug. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

He hums as he reaches for a hot cocoa mix. "Then my answer is no. Nobody's upset."

Five minutes later, he places a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of you and sits down.

"So, bad dreams?"

"Huh?"

"You said you couldn't sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. Not really bad. Just... disturbing."

He raises his eyebrows. "I think that's the same thing."

"Dreams are like... like movies." You try to explain, a smile forming on your face. "Bad dreams are horrors and thrillers. Disturbing dreams are more like... like they could be any genre, but some parts and some scenes affect you more."

"Right," He says. "So Titanic was disturbing, then?"

"Very!" You blurt before you can stop yourself. "Because it still confuses me to this day, how on earth didn't Jack fit on the door?"

He breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. "It confuses me how you compare dreams to movies. They're in two complete worlds altogether."

"Admit it. It's a good analogy."

"It is," He admits. "I didn't think of that before."

You look at him, and you wonder how you can continue the conversation from here. He sits there for a few more minutes and stands up. "I'll go set up a room for you. It's snowing pretty badly, and you'll be soaked through if you walk back. I'd drive you, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to see anything."

He starts to leave the room, and you grab his arm. "Jihoon."

He looks down at your physical contact point. "Yes?"

"Earlier, when you said...when you said that movies and dreams are in two different worlds."

He looks at you. Staring unblinkingly, eyes never avoiding yours. He seems just as about to ready to confront this truth as you are.

Your dream was the movie screen, and his dream was you. Two completely, otherworldly different ones, but dreams and wishes nonetheless. Maybe now that you were once again back where you started, they could finally align.

"You weren't just talking about actual dreams, were you?"

Jihoon stiffens and steps back. "We're not doing this again."

"No, wait --" You say, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts. "I'm not going to make you tell me anything. I just want to know if you meant something else."

Jihoon swore he would give himself a pat on his back as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. "And if I said I did?"

You swallow and look at him. Your heart is pounding, and all logical thinking has been long thrown out of the window. "I'd thank the heavens for bringing me home."

His mouth finds yours and you pull him down to meet you more. It's not a cold war anymore. It's no longer a battle to see who can withstand the silence better.

And there is no more silence, you realise, because Jihoon is sniffling and your cheeks are stained with two warm droplets. "Jihoon?"

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, making no effort to withdraw. "I couldn't help it. I...I missed you. Not just this," He squeezes your hand which has somehow intertwined with his, and you squeeze back with the little strength you can muster. "Just...you. Drinking hot chocolate in my kitchen in the middle of the night, being within two streets' distance of me... eating hot dogs in my truck and sending food when Christmas comes."

You blink back tears. "I'm sorry for missing out all these years."

"Don't be sorry," He replies, imperceptibly softly, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "Just be with me."

You spend the night. And the night after, and the one after that.

The next three days pass like a fever dream. You go skating at the outdoor rink with Jihoon, laugh at how he wobbles his way to you like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time, drink hot peppermint tea at a market stall after dinner, and let Jihoon tuck you into his coat on the walk home.

You didn't want this to end. No matter what. Ray hadn't yet gotten back to you on the audition results, and you decided to take it as a no and move on, just as you always did.

Of course, life always found a way to rear back and bite you hard, as your phone rings. With gloved hands, you pull it out of your coat pocket to see Ray's name again.

"Ray!" You chuckle, a little heady and happy from the day's events.

"So someone's having a good Christmas," Ray teases. "Well, my friend, it's going to get a lot better."

"What?" You ask, your boots crunching to a stop. Next to you, Jihoon also stops walking, his eyes wholly on you in concentration.

"The director of 'Who Knows Why'," Ray says, poorly concealed excitement in his voice. "He called me today, said he wants you to take the role! Your friends didn't get it even though they're so famous, and guess what? You did."

"Ray." You say, firmly. "Repeat that."

"You. Made. It. Out of over 100 actresses. I'm not joking!"

You freeze, look up and lock eyes with Jihoon, who raises his eyebrows in question.

"Oh, my god," You say, and it all comes out in a rush. "You're...you're serious."

"As a heart attack." Ray promises. "So, when can I come pick you up? Day after Christmas?"

"Ah." You hesitate. The filming would involve you....leaving. And if you were to stay and prepare for press tours, interviews, meet-and-greets... when were you returning?

"Can I call you back? I'll check..."

"Sure, hon," Ray replies cheerfully. "Go tell your folks the good news! They're gonna be thrilled."

You laugh weakly and then hang up. Then you turn to your lover (is he?).

"So, what was that about?" He asks, resuming the walk.

"I..."

At his concerned look, you finally sigh. "I got a lead role. In the film of a really popular director."

"That's amazing....oh." His face falls as he comes to the conclusion you fear. "Does that mean...you have to leave, don't you?"

You take a soft breath, shuffling your feet back and forth nervously. "I suppose so. I...I have to."

And to make matters worse, your phone pings with a text, your face souring as you read her message. Then, Jihoon watches as you put your phone back in your coat without another word.

"Who is that?" He demands. He knows he sounds like a little child, but he doesn't stop himself. He doesn't like the bitter expression on your face and that's all he knows.

"A friend." You reply.

"Real friend or...?"

You sigh and fish your phone out and pass it to him. He reads the simple "Fuck you" message from Rina, and undiluted anger crosses his face. "What the-"

You shrug. "She was probably one of the actresses hoping to be selected. Not much I can hide from you now."

He chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, we're not hiding the fact that you have to leave in maybe three days. Back to people like this-" He gestures to your phone. "- and who knows what else."

"I'll try to come back often," You say, although it doesn't seem convincing in the slightest. Jihoon doesn't buy a word of it either, judging by his expression.

"Really?" He says. "You haven't even been able to find time to come home for years now. I know you've gotten your big break and I'm happy for you, but... I don't know what to do if you leave for years on end again."

"I'll try to shuttle back and forth," You insist. "I have to."

"Well," Jihoon says, still looking at you doubtfully. "Don't make it an obligation."

"No, let's talk about it," You insist. "I just...I've never gotten a lead role before. It's not just... it's not just a role I can give up right away."

"Well, then choose. Tell me what you want." He replies, disappointment crossing his face.

"I...I haven't decided yet." You say lamely. "I need...I need a little more time to think."

He simply continues looking at you, before turning away and pacing back and forth. All you can do is watch him helplessly. "I just don't want to think about when this...will be over." Fling? Relationship?

It's as if he already knows what you're thinking about as he smiles sadly. "See, you don't even know what label to put on us."

"I just don't like when it has to be one over the other." You say, hugging yourself and staring at your shoes. "I've missed you. You know I love you and I want to continue seeing you, but I can't just give up on what I've wanted for so long."

But Jihoon is already shaking his head and starting to walk. "It doesn't have to be one way or another. Because I think you've already made your decision. I'm taking you home."

And it was happening all over again. Days had passed with no interaction with him, and even on Christmas Day itself, he was nowhere to be found.

Too fast, the evening when Ray came to pick you up loomed near. Your father helped you pack, but behind the reminders to bring your makeup bag and home slippers was a tinge of sadness. Your old folks didn't even know when they'd next see you.

When Ray comes out of the car to pick you up, out steps another lady with him, who nods to you in greeting.

"This is Rachel, the producer for the movie," Ray explains. "Since it’s gonna be a holiday romance-comedy, she wanted to visit your town to see what it looked like in Christmas."

You smile, and nod eagerly. "It's beautiful. You won't regret it."

Rachel smiles back, then speaks to Ray. "You guys stay here. I'll go take a quick walk and be right back."

As she leaves, you look at Ray. "Can we talk?"

Ray raises an eyebrow. "What about?"

"I... was wondering." You say. "I have a bit of a predicament at home. I'd like to stay longer. Could you maybe...push for the filming to be delayed?"

Ray looks surprised. "You want to wait?"

"More than anything."

A smirk starts blooming on Ray's face. "For a guy?"

At your delay, he slaps your shoulders. "Great! So, is the lucky guy totally alright with your job? That's a good man right there."

"Actually..."

You sprint towards Jihoon's house. Your attention is fixed on trying not to fall flat into the snow and to get to him as quickly as possible. Other townspeople are gawking, probably wondering why someone is in such a hurry, practically flying down the street.

At his door, you start knocking hard. His mom opens the door, and to your dismay, she explains that Jihoon hasn't been home since the morning.

"Maybe he's at the coast," She suggests, and you have never set off so fast before.

You implore Ray to drive you, and despite his reservations, a call from Rachel confirms that he has enough time to bring you there in his car for you to find Jihoon.

“So I’m now a party who can help you find the love of your life,” He teases you. “What do you owe me if this works out?"

"I'll make sure I land another film after this."

"You're on."

Ray barely puts the brakes on before you're opening the door. "I'll see you in a bit!"

"Should I prepare tissues?" He calls back. You pray not as you frantically scan your surroundings for a familiar, dark-haired man.

And like the heavens are answering you, you find him. Sat upon the roof of his truck, staring out at the coast at the setting sun.

"Jihoon?" You call as you get nearer to him. The man freezes, then turns slowly to face you. "I thought you were heading back. Why are you here?"

"To talk," You say softly, trying to catch your breath. "I... I think we left some things unsaid."

"No," He disagrees, crossing his legs over to face you while still sitting. "I owe you an apology."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have tried to make you choose me over your dreams. I know how hard you've been working, and you're finally getting to your peak... I should have supported you. I'm sorry. It was selfish of me."

"No," You insist, waving your hands. "I made that mistake first. Years ago, when I decided to leave, I didn't put you in front of my thoughts. I....I thought we'd be okay."

Jihoon shrugs and gives you a sad smile. "I'll always root for you. So... no hard feelings. Go ahead and shine. I promise we're okay. I'll never have bad feelings for you no matter what happens."

You shake your head. "That-"

"Y/N!" You hear Ray calling for you. Seriously? At this moment?

"What?" You hiss furiously.

"Check your phone!" You hear his hushed response.

"Later!"

"No! Now!"

You sigh and pull it out at his insistent glare, and when you look down at the message, your eyes light up. You shoot him a quizzical glance. Are you serious?

At his frantic nod, you turn back to Jihoon.

"You should go," Jihoon repeats. "They must be waiting for you."

"They are," You nod. He nods back, eyes not leaving yours.

"See you in a bit."

He cocks his head in confusion.

"Haven't you heard?" You smile a bit at his nonplussed expression.

"The filming location shifted."

"What?"

"I'll be here, apparently. For the next half a year, or so. The producer decided this place must be too good to pass up."

His jaw drops, and he slides off the truck, as if his surprise disabled his sense of balance. “You’ll be… here?”

“For a while,” You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t beating fast and hard. “So, if… if you still want to talk, and maybe spend spring together… I’m down.”

He drops himself off the vehicle and his boots hit the ground with a crunch. “Say that again.”

You smile and take a few steps towards him. “I’m here for spring, Jihoon. And the seasons after that…we’ll figure it out one at a time. How does that sound?”

He lets out a laugh then, choked up but ecstatic. He makes sure, steady steps towards you, arms open in welcome and love, and as you step into his warmth, you let out a relieved, happy sigh and look up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Jihoon.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

N e x t Y e a r

"I forgot how cold it can get every time," Jihoon hisses as another gust of wind hits.

"It's worse in town," You tease. "I barely feel anything now."

"Yes, yes, you with your big girl city habits," He shivers. "I'll pick that bone with you once we get home, I swear."

"I'm looking forward to it." You chuckle, and he squeezes you tight. As resigned as he is to the eccentric habits you picked up in the city, he's just happy you're here to spend this Christmas with him. And the one next year, and the one after that.

Home. Our home. You were a part of his home, and him yours.

Yes, you thought, even as you leaned against him and felt him wrap his coat around you despite knowing you weren't cold at all. As long as you were with him, you were home.

a u t h o r ' s n o t e:

merry christmas eve! i hope you enjoyed this story every bit as much as i enjoyed writing it 🎄 i started thinking about this close to october (because i missed my eras tour experience so much 😭) and wondered if anyone would like a crossover between seventeen and tswift!! so here goes, in time for christmas and your spotify wrapped, 'tis the damn season 💌

🎼 refer below for the fic playlist (with lots of svt, taylor swift, and sweet, romantic christmas tracks)

taglist: @jeonghnie

f i c p l a y l i s t :

'tis the damn season -- taylor swift

mirrorball -- taylor swift

lover - taylor swift

paper rings - taylor swift

daylight - taylor swift

new year's day - taylor swift

ours - taylor swift

i love you, i''m sorry - gracie abrams

risk - gracie abrams

all my love - seventeen

falling for you - seventeen

headliner - seventeen

lie again - seventeen

second life - seventeen

to you - seventeen

my santa claus - jessie james decker

glow - brett eldredge

all i want for christmas is you - michael buble

kiss you this christmas - why don't we

take me home for christmas - dan + shay

#svt fic #k-labels #svthub #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen x reader #woozi #woozi x reader #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #svt fanfic #svt fics #seventeen fanfic #svt x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff

63 notes · View notes