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Make Your Christmas Memorable with Limo Hire
The holiday season is the perfect time to celebrate and spend time with our loved ones. If you want to make this Christmas special, why not add a touch of luxury to your celebrations by hiring a limo? It's a great way to create unforgettable memories with friends and family.
In this blog, we will talk about the magic of Christmas in a limo and explore the many ways it can enhance your holiday experience.
The Magic of Christmas in a Limo
Arrival in Style
Arriving in a limousine is a statement in itself. Whether attending a Christmas party, visiting family and friends, or going to a holiday event, arriving in style sets the tone for the entire evening. The sight of a sleek limo pulling up to your destination makes you feel like a VIP and leaves a lasting impression on everyone around.
Comfort and Luxury
Inside the limousine, you'll discover a world of comfort and luxury that makes you feel like royalty. The spacious interior is adorned with plush leather seats, creating an atmosphere of opulence. You'll often find amenities such as mini-bars with your favourite beverages and entertainment systems to keep you and your guests entertained throughout the journey. This comfort level allows you to start celebrating the holiday spirit when you enter the limo.
Travel Safely During the Holidays
Professional Chauffeurs
The holiday season often brings challenging weather conditions and increased road traffic. Hiring a limousine has the added benefit of having a professional chauffeur. These experienced drivers are well-equipped to handle adverse weather and navigate congested traffic, ensuring you and your loved ones reach your destination safely and on time. It's a stress-free way to travel during the holidays.
Avoid Parking Hassles
Parking, with crowded lots and limited spaces, can be a major headache during the holiday season. When you opt for limo hire, you can forget parking hassles. Your chauffeur will drop you off at the doorstep of your destination, and when it's time to leave, they'll be waiting to pick you up promptly. This convenience allows you to focus on enjoying your holiday festivities without worrying about finding a parking spot.
Celebrate with Loved Ones
Family Gatherings
Christmas is a time for family, and limo hire can make your family gathering even more special. Instead of squeezing into multiple cars and dealing with coordinating transportation logistics, the whole family can travel together in a spacious limousine. It's a wonderful opportunity to bond, share stories, and create lasting memories on the way to your holiday celebration.
Romantic Date Nights
For couples, Christmas is a romantic season, and a limo can add a touch of romance to your date night. Imagine sipping champagne with your loved one as you enjoy the enchanting glow of Christmas lights around town. It's a romantic experience that you will cherish and remember for years.
Customise Your Experience
Decorate the Limo
To fully embrace the Christmas spirit, consider customising your limo experience. Many limo companies allow you to decorate the interior with holiday-themed decor. You can bring your ornaments, lights, and even a small Christmas tree to create a festive atmosphere inside the limousine. It's a fantastic way to infuse holiday magic into your journey.
Catered Food and Drinks
Some limo services offer catering options, allowing you to enjoy a holiday feast on the go. Indulge in your favourite holiday treats and beverages en route to your destination. From traditional Christmas cookies to gourmet appetisers, it's a delightful way to savour Christmas flavours and ensure your journey is as enjoyable as the destination.
Capture Memories
Photos and Videos
A limo ride during Christmas provides ample opportunities for capturing precious memories. The luxurious interior, the holiday decorations, and the joyful atmosphere make for fantastic photo and video moments. These memories can be shared with friends and family on social media as a reminder of the special moments you created during your limo journey. Consider creating a digital album or video montage to preserve these memories for years.
The Gift of an Experience
Gifting a limo experience can be a unique and unforgettable present for your loved ones. Whether it's a surprise for a special someone or a treat for the entire family, a limo ride is a gift that keeps giving. It's not just about the destination but the journey and the memories you create together. The joy and excitement of stepping into a luxurious limousine during the holiday season are gifts that will be remembered and cherished forever.
Booking Your Christmas Limo
Plan Ahead
Since the holiday season is a peak time for limo services, planning ahead is crucial. Start by making your reservation well to secure your preferred date and time. This ensures that you take advantage of the opportunity to enjoy a limo ride during Christmas when demand is high.
Check Reviews and Reputation
Before booking a limo service, take the time to research and read reviews. Look for a reputable company with a proven track record of providing excellent service during the holiday season. A trustworthy limo service will go the extra mile to make your Christmas experience memorable, ensuring that every detail is taken care of to perfection.
In conclusion, hiring a limousine for Christmas is an exceptional way to elevate your celebrations. From making a grand entrance and travelling safely to celebrating with loved ones, customising your experience, and capturing cherished memories, there are countless ways to enjoy limo hire during the festive season. This Christmas, why not add a touch of luxury and glamour to your celebrations? Book a limo and create unforgettable memories that will last a lifetime. Make this Christmas special with a limo ride – it's the perfect way to experience the season's magic and make lasting memories with your loved ones. For more limo hire services, visit Fast Limo Hire
© Fast Limo Hire
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Regent Street packed with traffic as new Christmas chandeliers hanging from the middle of the street are turned on in 1959.
The Regent Street lights in 1960.
Regent Street decorations in 1961.
We've never had it so good! Christmas lights in Londons Regent Street 1959 to 1961
#london history#london life#street scene#social history#transport#merry christmas#happy holidays#seasons greetings#1900s
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"what could possibly go wrong?"
#oops <doodles a cairo on the bus. and the train. and miscellaneous other public transportation>#cheerwives part two because i drew a riley and got obsessed ig#i had to go to School and Travel today (it is the middle of the school holiday week break to study. i'm mildly annoyed)#so this is me coping via the blorbo system#also i've realised rendering on my phone is Fun and so is painting faces#lowkey iffy about the proportions on this one but shhhb the sentiment gets across#part of this was based off how someone liked a very old watt post of mine so while i was looking for a watt doodle to render for funsies#up came a very old image of cairo asking what could possibly go wrong and so. repaint over it i guess! if you go into the artchives#(haha art archives) you might be able to find it#we are the tigers#watt#not driving the narrative not doomed by the narrative but a secret third thing(in the narrative nonetheless)#thinking back to the hadestown watt au that i never made proper stuff for#it spins in my head and gives me a bit of happiness#anyways i think my physics teacher is very Done with me submitting assignments at 2359 but unfortunately i haven't learnt. going to go back#(because i'm still at the mall. gotta walk back) and finish up stuff! yikes the revision season be upon ye i guess#there's another version of this digital painting with cairo half smiling and mouth clearly open to say smth#but unfortunately i dislike the colours in that one a bit and it looks too similar to this one to warrant posting them tgt#so instead of a before and after thing you simply get a cairo portrait haha#yes okay bye *disappears into void*#initial caption for this was. nooo don't ask what could possibly go wrong?'' you're so sexy aha#if it matters to anyone. just fyi
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nyiregyhaza, hungary - 07 dec, 2014: santa claus biker gang in the city center. happy people celebrating on the street
#santa#claus#biker#nyiregyhaza#hungary#gang#city#center#winter#holiday#motorcycle#motorbike#christmas#december#funny#travel#merry#bike#xmas#celebration#red#happy#santa claus#celebrate#fun#costume#cool#transportation#season#festive
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As we gather around the table this Thanksgiving, we at Ko-Solar want to take a moment to express our heartfelt gratitude for your support and partnership. Together, we've made strides toward a brighter, more sustainable future powered by innovation and clean energy.
This season reminds us of the importance of coming together—whether to celebrate with loved ones or to work towards a shared vision of a greener tomorrow. Your commitment to sustainability inspires us, and we are grateful to have you as part of our journey.
May your Thanksgiving be filled with joy, gratitude, and the warmth of those you hold dear. Here's to brighter days ahead, both for our planet and our communities.
Ko-Solar Web: https://www.ko-solar.com/
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TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@ko.solar
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Google+: https://www.google.com/search?q=Ko-Solar&ludocid=9839316519142606543&lpsid=4632890026087517204&source=sh/x/localposts#lpstate=pid:4632890026087517204
#kosolar#solarenergy#solarpower#energy#greenenergy#sustainability#renewableenergy#environment#transportation#highway#railraod#airport#thanks#thankgiving#holiday#holiday season#innovation#smart bench#bus shelter#bus stop#greencities
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want to start an entertainment experience business where i safely & legally "mail" people (put them through the experience of getting packaged and shipped to a new location). business card says "get mailed idiot" at the top
#i would give options for different types of containers such as: cardboard box; animal crate; movie style animal crate; bubble mailer#types of transport (truck; airplane; just gettin carried; train)#it would all be within one building but we would put them on a safe little like. almost rollercoaster kind of track#rube golbercoaster#many moving parts#and then as they get shipped we'd prepare the exit room to be their 'destination'#from like some presets bc we can't do Everywhere so like. some houses. other buildings. airports. train stations. post offices#lost on the side of the road in the rain perhaps#holiday season we do a special holiday set with multiple different winter holiday things not just christmas#i want to get mailed
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New York Holiday Lights Tour Limos
Experience the magic of the holiday season in New York City with a luxurious Holiday Lights Tour in a limo! Glide through iconic streets, from the sparkling Rockefeller Centre to the dazzling displays along Fifth Avenue, all from the comfort of a chauffeured limousine. Perfect for families, couples, or groups, these tours offer a cozy and elegant way to see the city’s festive lights. Book your…
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#Christmas Light Tour NYC#Holiday Lights Tour with Limo Rental NYC#Holiday Lights Tours in NYC#Holiday Lights Tours Transportation#holiday season in New York City#Limo Rental NYC#New York City Christmas Light Tour#New York City Christmas Light Tours#New York Holiday Lights Tour Limos
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NEED HELP WITH CAR REPAIRS + FOOD + BILLS + TRANSPORTATION!
PAYPAL | AMAZON WISHLIST | KOFI | GOFUNDME |PATREON | HOLIDAY WISHES LIST @ DREAMWIDTH
11/21/24 - New Post!
So we have a ton of bills and overdrafts to pay, including both of our PayPal accounts, but this holiday season I'm worried about food as well. We don't have working transportation, so I rely on delivery via DoorDash and Walmart+ to get my food. I can pay for both with PayPal, so if I can cover the $201 debt my mom owes, anything else will go to food purchases.
We also need to raise $3000 for the car repair, $565 for the movers and $600 to put towards rent. Any help with this would be amazing.
$1800/$6000
Also, if anyone wants to make the holiday season better, we could use anything for the home on our Amazon wish list or any of the fun stuff on our Holiday Wishes list, both of which are linked above. And I have my Patreon linked if you want to get short drabbles or graphics and help my income out every month as well!
EDIT: I desperately need the transport chair and all the accessories on my Amazon wishlist. My mom woke up last night too weak to walk, and she thinks she needs a wheelchair now. I have one that's a combo transport chair/walker with some accessories, but if anyone can help, that would be a huge help in keeping her mobile.
EDIT 2: I think my mom needs to go to the hospital, but I need about $275 to the PayPal to cover what's owed to PayPal and the rides itself. If anyone could help, I'd be most grateful.
#signal boost#mutual aid#groceries#time sensitive#bills#car repair#community aid#patreon#gofundme#venmo#paypal#ko fi link#ko fi support#buy me a kofi#cashapp#amazon wishlist#financial assistance#financial aid#direct action#crowdfunding#fundraising#please boost#please reblog#please share#please help#help needed#anything helps#disabled aid#lgbt aid#queer aid
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Coming Home to You (m) | pjm
It’s been five years since Hyun was arrested, and you’ve done a lot of healing to get where you are in life; married, finally opening your very own yoga studio. But when the shadows come crawling back, and old memories resurface, will Christmas be ruined?
→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: detective!au, christmas!au, holiday!au, married!au, → Trope: best friends to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / angst / thriller / comfort / action → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 11.7k → Warnings + triggers: stalking (original character that stalks MC), action/fighting, weapons (guns and knifes), mention of abuse, mention of past s*xual assault, tiny description of assault (but not in too much detail), justice, healing after trauma, fluffy love and comfort, hugs and kisses, unprotected sex that is very quick and vanilla-ish. → Author’s note: wow. It’s been over a year since I wrote and published this series. I was never quite happy with its ending, so while I was making my different Christmas stories, these characters just begged to get a second chance, so here we are! Please proceed with caution; this story is dark, but also very very fluffy and sweet. I’ve tried to balance the two. Enjoy 🙂 → Read the spoiler? [their text message] → Read on AO3? [link]
← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |
It’s been five years since Jimin knelt before you under the soft lantern glow of the couple’s retreat, a promise in his eyes as steady as the stars. Since that night, you’ve woven your lives together, married and rooted in the warmth of his childhood home—a place brimming with memories, both tender and raw. Every room here holds pieces of your past, as if the walls have absorbed every laugh, every whispered secret, every tremor of pain. The familiar comforts you, yet it’s tinged with shadows. Some memories cling like stubborn echoes, ones you’d sooner silence forever—like that night, here, when Hyun’s violence shattered your trust in safety. Even now, an unexpected draft can send an icy shiver down your spine, and you're transported back, heart racing, wishing that day could be unwound and rewritten. You wish you’d taken a different path, not walked home alone, not been stalked and broken by him. But the past is fixed, carved into your story, unyielding as stone. All you can do is move forward—and you have, step by step.
Jimin, ever your protector, signed you up for self-defense the moment Hyun was locked away, knowing that peace of mind is something you now earn, not inherit. “It’s good to know you can defend yourself,” he’d said, his voice a blend of reassurance and determination. And he was right. Now, you walk with a quiet strength, knowing you’ve wrestled with darkness and won, a warrior forged from fear into power.
Meanwhile, Jimin fights his own battles, tireless in his role as a detective, tracing the city’s shadows to keep others safe. You admire him deeply—how he gives himself so fully, despite the long hours, the late nights, the gravity of December’s cold cases. This month, where joy is promised but rarely found, wears heavy on him, and on so many. December holds a peculiar ache, doesn’t it? Beneath the glitter and false cheer lies an undercurrent of despair, a fragile season where people often find themselves adrift, succumbing to loneliness, sorrow, even violence.
And yet, in this same season, you’ve created a sanctuary. Your yoga studio, born from the healing you found in stillness and breath, is your refuge, and you offer it now to others—to ground them, to lift the weight of silent burdens, to let them escape, if only for an hour, from the hollow echoes of December’s cheer. Here, people can shed the pressure of forced smiles and indulge in quiet solitude. You understand, perhaps better than most, the importance of spaces where vulnerability can breathe freely. After all, you’ve been there. You’ve survived the darkness and emerged stronger, and now, you offer the gift of peace to those still searching for it.
“How are you doing, babe?” Jimin’s voice crackles through the phone, warm and familiar, softened by the gentle rustle of papers in the background.
“I’m good,” you reply, a soft smile touching your lips as you glance at Hoseok, your friend who lights up any room, carefully arranging plants in sunlit patches to bring life into the studio. “Hobi’s here, helping me make this place perfect.”
“That’s great! Tell him I said hi,” Jimin sings out, his voice laced with love, a warmth that fills even the empty spaces. “I’ll be home around eight, so go ahead and make dinner, okay?”
“Of course, Minie,” you reply, the nickname rolling off your tongue like a familiar song. “Keep fighting the good fight, detective.” You chuckle, blowing him a kiss that floats down the line before you hang up.
Hoseok spins around, catching your playful mood, and clutches his chest as if the sweetness is too much to bear. “Blowing kisses over the phone? You two are too much,” he teases, his eyes alight, his grin brighter than the winter sun. Goofy as always, Hoseok has been your constant—a bright anchor in dark waters, the first person you confided in after you escaped the darkness. He had listened, his presence steady, his paramedic instincts kicking in to heal your wounds, visible and invisible.
“You’ll find your own moon, Hobi,” you reassure him with a smile, your voice soft with hope. “Someone who’ll love you just as much as you love everyone around you.”
He sighs, his shoulders dipping in a rare moment of vulnerability. “I know. It’s just, sometimes I can’t help but be a little jealous, you know?” His words trail off, filling the room with a quiet ache.
You stand and fold him into a hug, looking directly into his eyes. “Everything has its time and place,” you whisper, offering him the kind of solace he’s given you time and time again.
The two of you spend the rest of the day crafting the studio into something magical, every corner an invitation for peace. Tomorrow marks the grand opening, and you’ve chosen to offer free classes to anyone willing to step into this sanctuary of calm, hoping to bring yoga’s quiet power into their lives. Hoseok agreed to change shifts and lend a hand; his kindness surrounds you, a bright echo in a world that often feels hollow. As the evening draws to a close, you embrace him once more, feeling his warmth and the comfort he brings.
“Thank you, Hobi. I couldn’t have done this without you,” you say, voice heavy with gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, his smile soft as he waves you off, “and you deserve every bit of it.”
Locking the door behind you, you head toward your car in the near-empty lot. Shadows stretch long under the dull streetlights, their yellow glow casting ghostly halos in the foggy December night. As you fumble with your keys, an uneasy feeling prickles at the edge of your senses. The chill digs deep, sharp as a needle, and your heart quickens. It’s been years since you’ve felt that lingering, ghostly presence—the kind that turns your breath shallow and your steps quiet. You glance over your shoulder, searching the dimness, but there’s nothing there… only the hollow emptiness that seems to breathe with you. You shrug it off, telling yourself it’s the cold, the dark, the way memory sometimes pulls you back against your will.
Sliding into the car, you grip the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, feeling relief only as the streetlights blur by in the rearview mirror. When you pull up to the house, you spot Jimin’s car, parked and waiting like a beacon in the night, and your heart lifts. Home at last.
As you open the door, the air blooms with the rich aroma of spices and warmth, curling around you like a long-awaited embrace—Jimin’s cooking, you realize. Smiling, you slip off your shoes, the soft hum of a quiet evening unfolding as you make your way into the kitchen. There he is, framed by the golden glow of the stove, stirring a pan with practiced ease. You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
“It smells heavenly,” you murmur, feeling his chuckle reverberate beneath your hands.
“You think so?” He turns just enough to meet your eyes, a flicker of concern softening his expression. “And you’re not feeling queasy today?”
“No, not today.” You lean up and kiss him, tasting the hint of laughter on his lips.
“That’s good,” he hums, turning his attention back to the pan, its contents simmering and bubbling in the low light. He stirs with gentle, rhythmic motions, as though coaxing comfort from each ingredient.
Yet that shadow from earlier lingers, stirring something unsettling deep within you. Without thinking, you ask, “Jimin, do you know if Hyun got released?” The words feel strange in the warmth of the kitchen, unwelcome as winter air creeping through a cracked window. That strange chill you felt in the parking lot refuses to let go—an echo of a memory, a feeling you wish you could brush off. By all accounts, Hyun should still be locked away, yet something in the back of your mind feels suddenly exposed, vulnerable.
Jimin pauses, turning to face you fully. “No, I haven’t heard anything,” he says, brows knitting together. “Didn’t he get a long sentence?”
“Eight years isn’t long, Minie.” You cross your arms, frustration flaring. “The law’s too forgiving, too willing to grant second chances.” Your voice trembles slightly, carrying the weight of those years—the years that man stole from you, the scars he left. How could the scales of justice tip so unevenly, leaving you with a lifetime of healing, and him with a mere eight years? Sometimes you wish you’d had the strength to end it that night, to ensure he’d never breathe free air again. But you’re not a murderer, not someone willing to stain their soul—even for justice. You took the honorable path, trusting the law, though part of you wonders if that was enough.
Jimin reaches out, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re completely right,” he says, his voice soft yet laced with a sorrow he rarely lets show. For a brief moment, his hand clenches into a fist, a glint of steel in his eyes. “I should have ended it myself—to make sure you’d never have to worry, not even for a moment.” His words surprise you, not in their meaning, but in the honesty of his anger. Jimin’s a man who believes in the law, in justice served through rightful means. To act outside of that would shatter something essential in him, an integrity you know he holds dear. And yet, his love for you runs deeper than those lines, testing the boundaries he’d never thought he’d consider crossing.
With a breath, he steadies himself, the warmth returning to his gaze. “I’ll look into it tomorrow at work, just to make sure,” he offers, his voice calming, his hand soft against your shoulder.
“Yeah,” you sigh, exhaling the last of that tension, allowing it to blend with the warmth of the kitchen, the comfort of Jimin’s presence. “It doesn’t hurt to check.” Leaning in, you brush a kiss to his cheek, feeling his silent promise lingering between you, unspoken but clear. Then, moving with quiet purpose, you begin setting the table, the simple act grounding you as Jimin finishes preparing dinner.
Tonight, the weight of the past lingers, yet in this big, familiar kitchen, you find a peace that holds you, a love that softens the edges of memory. Here, beneath the golden light and the scent of spices, you feel safe. And tonight, that’s enough.
It’s Friday morning, and the air in your yoga studio hums with the quiet promise of new beginnings. You and Hoseok move together in the spacious room, arranging mats on the polished wooden floor, each movement precise and grounding, as if setting intentions for the day. Only thirty minutes remain until opening, and excitement tingles under your skin, mixed with the flutter of nerves. Will they come? Will this space—your sanctuary—become theirs too?
“You’re fidgeting!” Hoseok grins, catching your restless hands as he lays mats in neat rows. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
You draw a deep breath, letting the calm settle within you like dust in sunlight. Yes. Everything is going to be okay.
Time slips past in a blur, and when you glance up, your heart skips. There, just beyond the glass doors, is a line—a line of people waiting to enter. A thrill runs through you, and Hoseok’s laughter bubbles up beside you as he grabs your arm, both of you practically floating to the door to welcome them.
“I told you it would be popular!” he chuckles, and together you swing open the doors to greet the eager faces. You offer warm smiles and greetings as people file in, and by the time they’ve settled, thirty mats are filled. Thirty. The sight sends a rush of gratitude through you, filling every corner of your heart.
“We’re going to need more mats,” you whisper, half in awe, and Hoseok is quick to gather extras, laying them out with practiced ease. The low hum of conversation fills the studio, blending with the gentle notes of mindfulness music, creating a cocoon of peace within the room. You take your place at the front, grounding yourself in the present, wearing your favorite flowy top and comfy tights—ready to share the gift of calm with those who’ve gathered.
A smile spreads across your face as you welcome them. “Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming to the grand opening of Journey of the Mind Yoga Studio.” Your voice is soft yet steady, carrying over the room as you scan the faces, each person a new journey unfolding. “Today’s class is free, a taste of what we offer here. I hope that after an hour of mindful stretching and release, you’ll feel inspired to join us again next week, just in time to find a bit of peace before the holiday rush.”
Appreciative nods and murmurs ripple through the crowd, and you feel the energy shift—a sense of community already settling over the room. You introduce Hoseok, your steady companion, who will offer modified versions of each pose, and together you begin. Your body flows naturally, guiding them through stretches that release tension, each pose a door opening to calm and clarity. The music sways through the room, a gentle river of sound, and as you lose yourself in the movements, your mind drifts, reaching that faraway place of tranquility that yoga always brings. For a moment, everything melts away—there is only breath, flow, presence.
An hour slips by as if in a single breath, and when you rise to close the session, you see faces glowing with newfound peace. Gratitude fills the room as they linger, a few stepping forward to sign up for paid classes. You watch them with pride and joy, knowing this day is just the beginning.
A thirty-minute break passes, and then another class begins, and another, each session flowing effortlessly into the next. By the end of the day, it feels like a dream—one filled with kind faces, gentle energy, and a hundred tiny transformations.
Before the last class, you find Hoseok at the front desk, flipping through a stack of sign-up sheets. His eyes widen, and he looks up at you, grinning. “Have you seen this? A hundred people signed up for classes today!”
You step closer, scanning the forms, disbelief melting into pure, unbridled happiness. “A hundred?” The number echoes through you, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You blink them back, laughing, unable to contain the joy swelling in your chest.
You can’t wait to tell Jimin—about the line that stretched outside, the calm that settled over your studio, and how, at the end of this first day, a hundred souls have chosen to join you on this journey.
It’s the last class of the night, the deep blue twilight casting shadows over the studio floor, and only one more hour separates you from home, from Jimin’s safe embrace. The soothing notes of the background music play on, grounding you as new faces trickle through the door. You greet each arrival with a wave, directing them to mats. Then, suddenly, the sight of a man draped in black—a hood pulled low over his eyes, dark sweats swallowing his form—stops you in your tracks. A chill sinks through you, and you feel your heart lurch.
Those eyes.
Dark, unrelenting, too familiar—ones you’d memorized against your will, forced to hold their gaze when all you wanted was to look away. Your stomach knots, twisting tight. Hoseok, ever attuned, glances over and catches the change in your expression, worry shadowing his own face as the man settles on a mat in the back row, lingering like a storm cloud.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers, eyes flitting between you and the figure in black, his own posture tensing.
Your voice is a murmur, low enough that only he can hear. “It’s Hyun,” you manage, feeling your pulse thunder in your throat.
Hoseok’s gaze sharpens, a flicker of recognition. “Hyun? The one who…?” His words trail off, but his face says it all. He shifts, dropping down beside you and pulling you into a quick, fierce hug. “I forgot his name. Do you want me to throw him out?”
You take a breath, trying to still the quake inside you, and shake your head. “No. This class is open to anyone, and I don’t want a scene.” But even as you speak, you feel the storm of tension in your limbs, the instinct to flee. Hoseok holds your gaze, and in that moment, you draw strength from his steady presence.
Jimin hadn’t confirmed Hyun’s release, but you have your answer now��he’s here. You remind yourself of the years spent rebuilding, of every inch of progress carved out of moments like this. Even with every fiber of your being itching to run, you anchor yourself to the space you created. It’s yours, and he cannot take that from you.
With a final inhale, you center yourself, allowing the soft music to pull you inward, body flowing into each pose like water, each stretch drawing you into peace. Gradually, you lose yourself in the rhythm, the silent connection with your students and the gentle pulse of your breathing. And, for a while, Hyun fades away, a mere shadow swallowed by the calm you find within.
The hour evaporates, and as the last pose ends, your students begin to gather at the front to inquire about signing up for future classes. When you look up, he’s there, standing apart from the others, a sinister calm in his gaze as he steps forward. Hoseok intercepts him, a wall of silent strength, hand raised as Hyun tries to add his name to the sign-up sheet.
“Hold it right there,” Hoseok says, voice low but firm, a quiet line drawn in the sand.
Hyun cocks his head, feigning innocence. “What? I’m allowed to sign up, aren’t I?” His eyes find yours, and a sickeningly familiar smirk pulls at his lips.
The air feels thick, each breath heavy, but you step forward, not retreating. “I don’t want you in my class,” you say, voice clear, each word a stone dropped into silence.
He doesn’t flinch, though his smile twists into something mocking, his voice dripping with that old, poisonous charm. “Oh, hi, Y/N. Long time no see. Miss me?”
Your stomach churns, but your voice is calm, steady. “No.” With a resolve you’ve fought for, you reach forward, collecting the sign-up sheets before he can so much as touch a pen. He holds your gaze for a moment longer, but you don’t look away.
He may have stepped into your studio, but the power is yours now. He has no place here.
“How’s that detective boyfriend of yours?” His words slither out, and you flinch as if struck. How dare he even speak Jimin’s name? Rage blazes up inside you, hot and sudden. You’re no damsel anymore, no victim to be cornered and toyed with. Hoseok catches the fire in your eyes, and you see his gaze sharpen with quiet caution.
You clench your fists, jaw set like iron. “Detective husband,” you correct, voice edged in steel, as you gather mats with controlled fury, each motion meant to keep you from shattering the silence with something far less civil.
Hyun’s smirk deepens. “Oh? Well, congratulations, then. A shame I couldn’t attend the wedding.” His voice dips, sickly sweet, heavy with implication. “Maybe I’ll swing by with a gift.” His presence feels like a noose tightening around you, air thickening as if his mere proximity could smother you. Your pulse hammers as the realization creeps in—he’s marked you. A warning, thinly veiled, wrapped in poison.
You glare at him, the question cutting through your clenched teeth. “Is that a threat?”
His brows lift in mock surprise. “What? No, of course not.” But his smirk widens, his words a sham, oozing with menace beneath the feigned innocence.
“Don’t you dare come to my place!” you snap, and the challenge fires through your voice, every bit of strength you’ve built since his prison sentence fortifying you. Your finger lifts, pointing sharply at him, defying every shadow he’s tried to cast over you. Hoseok’s hand on your arm is gentle but grounding, a reminder to hold back, to stay in control.
“We’re closed. Leave,” you say, already moving to the door, holding it open like a shield. “And don’t come back here again,” you add, voice steady but laced with finality as you close and lock the door behind him.
Hyun offers nothing but a wave, his smile sick and twisted, the kind of look that stains your thoughts long after it’s gone. Your stomach knots, and before you can stop it, bile rises, and you double over in the parking lot, dry-heaving, sickness flooding your body with the aftershock of his presence.
Hoseok is by your side instantly, his hand a firm, steadying weight on your shoulder. “Y/N, are you okay?”
You straighten, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to steady your breath. “I’m fine, just… a little sick.”
“Let me drive you home,” he says, voice filled with quiet concern. You nod, passing him your keys as the fatigue of it all begins to settle deep in your bones.
The car ride is silent, words seeming too heavy to pull into the space between you. The tension clings, raw and open, until you finally reach your driveway, the warm glow of Jimin’s car waiting like a beacon. Hoseok walks you up to the door, the both of you stepping into the soft, familiar warmth of home, leaving the shadows outside where they belong.
Jimin’s gaze snaps up from the television as he catches the sound of more than one pair of footsteps entering. He rises quickly, worry flickering over his face as he takes in the strained silence between you and Hoseok, the exhaustion etched deep in both your expressions.
“Hoseok, what happened?” His voice is tense, yet gentle, sensing more than just the weariness in your eyes.
Hoseok shifts uncomfortably, glancing at you, hesitant to steal your voice from what needs to be said. “Y/N… she threw up,” he murmurs, trailing off as the words catch in his throat.
You swallow hard, your voice raw as you push the words out, barely a whisper. “Hyun was there.” Tears prick your eyes, and despite all the strength you’ve gathered, you feel it unraveling now. The weight of the encounter, of old fears returning, pressing down like a weight you thought you’d left behind.
A flash of steel darkens Jimin’s expression. “Hyun…?” His voice falters, regret layering his tone. “I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you. He was released recently. ‘Good behavior,’” he adds, voice bitter with an edge of apology.
“Good behavior?” Hoseok spits out, disbelief lacing his words. “How’s that even possible?”
You feel your composure slip as nausea stirs again, dragging you toward the bathroom, leaving their voices distant and blurred behind you.
Hoseok watches you retreat, worry stark in his eyes as he turns to Jimin. “Will she be okay? He was taunting her. It was… ugly.”
Jimin sighs deeply, clenching his fists before releasing them with a slow exhale. “She’ll be okay. She’s just worn down. Probably a bug, and—thank you, Hyung. For everything.” He pulls Hoseok into a brief hug, a silent exchange of gratitude.
After Hoseok leaves, Jimin locks the door, the click echoing in the quiet house. He moves down the hall, following the quiet sounds of tears and finds you on the bathroom floor, knees drawn up, head resting against the cool tile as your breathing comes in shaky waves.
He crouches down beside you, gathering you into his arms, his warmth an anchor against the chill of the evening’s shadows. “It’s going to be okay, love,” he whispers, his voice a steadying calm. “He won’t come near you again.”
You let out a shuddering breath, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “He said he’d come by the house,” you murmur, the words tasting of dread, each one a reminder of the past you’ve been fighting to escape.
Jimin’s hand rests firmly on your back, grounding you. “We’ll get a restraining order,” he says, his voice quiet but determined, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back, trying to slow the erratic beat of your heart.
You shake your head faintly, skepticism clouding your gaze. “A piece of paper won’t stop him, but… yes, let’s get one,” you say, your voice breaking as another wave of nausea churns in your stomach. Jimin stays by your side, his hand never leaving yours, his presence a reminder that you are not alone in this—never again.
You spend the weekend with nerves stretched thin, every sound outside tightening your pulse like a taut wire. A single creak, a rustle in the yard, and you freeze, bracing against the shadows in your own mind. No matter how much healing you’ve embraced, the sight of Hyun pulled you straight back into those dark beginnings, and the steps forward now feel fragile underfoot. You hate the way your mind oscillates, flitting between fear and sharp, practiced vigilance, ready for him if he dares to cross that line.
But the days pass without a sign of him. By the next week, your hours are full, carried along by the rhythm of classes at your yoga studio, a flurry of smiling students, and Jimin’s comforting presence. He’s taken to working from home more often now, lingering in the warmth of your shared space. You’ve told him he doesn’t have to—reminded him you’re okay, that you’re safe, and that the gun is exactly where it needs to be. Still, he stays as much as his job allows, though the detective in him calls him to the streets more often than either of you would like.
Another Friday comes, winter resting like a hush over the town, and this evening you’re hosting your parents and Jimin’s mother for an early holiday dinner. You feel that strange flicker of a shadow behind you as you lock up the studio, but when you turn, there’s only emptiness. You brush off the feeling, slipping into your car and driving home, where warmth and the comfort of Jimin’s cooking greet you at the door.
The scent of rosemary and roasted vegetables fills the air as you step into the kitchen and wrap your arms around him from behind. “I think that restraining order might be working,” you murmur against his shoulder. “I haven’t seen Hyun all week.” You tell him about that lingering shadow, though, the chill it brings, because nothing is hidden between you anymore.
Jimin sighs, his voice firm. “Good. I hope he stays the hell away.”
The doorbell rings, and for once, it doesn’t spike your anxiety—your parents’ familiar voices float in as you welcome them with warm hugs. Moments later, Jimin’s mother arrives, her eyes lingering with approval on the home she once knew, touched by the renovations Jimin’s loving hands have made over the years.
While he puts the finishing touches on the meal, you and his mother set the table, her gentle warmth as comforting as it was on your wedding day, radiating that kindness she passed down to her son. At last, Jimin brings out the food, setting down a beautiful feast. He pours a rich red wine, and the conversation flows as easily as laughter, the air alive with the simplicity of joy and the sheltering presence of those you love most.
A gentle quiet has settled over the table, filled only by the warmth of shared glances and the comfort of a good meal, when your mother’s voice breaks the silence. “So, Jimin, Y/N… when can we expect grandchildren?” Her words hang playfully in the air, and you nearly choke on your water. Jimin chuckles, his hand soothingly rubbing your back as his eyes find yours, twinkling with that familiar, soft affection.
Jimin’s mother joins in, her laugh carrying a hint of nostalgia. “Yes! You’re both getting older, you know. People these days wait so long… not like us, having kids in our early twenties!” She beams at you both, her gaze filled with warmth.
You feel a surge of emotion and rest your hand over your stomach, a tender touch that doesn’t go unnoticed. You glance at Jimin, sharing a look that’s brimming with unspoken love. Your father, keen-eyed and quiet as always, spots the gesture first. His face lights up with a dawning realization. “Wait—don’t tell me… you’re pregnant?”
All eyes are on you, hopeful and bright, and you can only nod with a smile that grows as the news settles around the table like a warm blanket. “Yes,” you whisper, happiness spilling from your voice as Jimin’s hand finds yours beneath the table. His fingers interlace with yours, and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek, his gaze brimming with pride and love.
“Congratulations!” Your mothers erupt with joy, voices a mix of laughter and tears. They dive into discussions of baby names, nursery colors, and whose eyes the baby might inherit, their delight a bright flame you’re content to bask in. Across the table, your father sits quietly, his expression full of a soft pride that words wouldn’t quite capture. He’s always been a man of few words, but in his gaze, you feel the depth of his happiness for you.
You savor the moment, spoonfuls of Jimin’s lovingly prepared meal mingling with the joy of your family’s celebration. Hours slip by, the conversation growing more animated, laughter blending with gentle memories and future dreams, until the night draws to a close. Your parents and Jimin’s mother, reluctantly but joyfully, gather their things to head home, lingering in the doorway for one last hug and a few parting words. They fuss over tidying up, but you and Jimin wave off their offers, sending them off with smiles and waves as they disappear into the night.
When the door closes, the world shrinks down to just the two of you. The kitchen is dimly lit, the last traces of laughter lingering in the air as you work together to clear the table, each movement wrapped in unspoken affection. Jimin carefully rinses dishes and stacks them in the dishwasher, his gaze soft when it drifts to you sitting on the countertop, your legs dangling as you watch him, feeling the quiet joy of simply being here.
“Tonight was wonderful,” you say softly, a gentle smile curving your lips.
Jimin glances over, the warmth of his smile a reflection of your own. “Yeah… a perfect start to the holiday,” he agrees, placing the last dish in the washer and wiping his hands. He steps close, his hands finding yours once more, as if grounding both of you in this quiet, beautiful moment.
You lean your head against his shoulder, letting the peace and warmth of the evening settle over you like a blanket. It’s in these little moments that everything feels right, the future unfolding in each shared glance and gentle touch, and in this quiet stillness, you can feel it—life, love, and everything beautiful, blossoming right where you are.
He shifts his full attention to you, gently parting your legs to make space as he moves closer, bringing you face-to-face, your gazes locked at the same height. Your smile mirrors his, a gentle curve of affection that makes his eyes deepen with warmth. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against yours, a tender kiss that soon grows hungry and consuming. His hand slides to cradle your face, fingers tracing softly as though memorizing the moment, while the other finds its way over your heart, savoring the feel of you, pulling you closer as you wrap your legs around his waist.
Your breath mingles as you whisper his name against his ear, each word trembling between desire and intimacy. The way he looks at you, dark eyes glistening with both love and want, sends a rush through you. “You’re beautiful, love,” he murmurs, his voice weighted with meaning, and despite all the time you’ve been together, you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your cheeks. His words have always had this effect, ever since the two of you were children, growing up side by side. The love that sprouted so simply back then has blossomed into a romance that still fills you with wonder.
He lets his hands explore your body, caressing gently yet firmly, and you’re lost in the soft rhythm of his lips against yours, feeling every kiss ignite something deep and primal within you. Your fingers find their way into his soft, blonde hair, tugging slightly, which earns you a low, muffled groan from him. The world fades, leaving only the intensity of the connection between you.
“I’m so wet for you, Minie,” you murmur, feeling him pressed against you, the heat building as his mouth finds your cheek, his hands anchoring around your waist.
“And I’m already lost in your ocean, beautiful,” he replies, breath catching as his lips graze your skin. Every touch, every kiss sends waves of warmth through you, until the longing turns into an urgent need. You’re both enraptured, no barriers, just pure feeling.
The rest of the world falls away as he slides his hands down to remove the last of the barriers between you, his movements tender yet filled with intent, every gesture echoing the love that began all those years ago. And here you are, together, woven tightly in each other’s arms, the love between you more radiant, more alive, and infinitely more powerful.
He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and instinctively, you wind your legs around his waist, feeling the warmth of him pressed against you. With steady strength, he lifts you, likely intending to carry you to the bedroom, but you stop him, breathless. “Take me here against the wall,” you whisper, voice edged with urgency as you tug him toward you, feeling the hard press of his cock.
He pauses, his gaze meeting yours with a question, “Are you sure?” His voice is soft, considerate—he’s always careful with you, gentle by nature, respectful of the parts of you that have been hurt before. That care has only made you fall for him more, and while you love his tenderness, tonight you need his fire. You nod, eyes shining, and he’s helpless to resist.
In one fluid movement, he presses you against the wall, his hands anchoring you there, firm yet tender. You can feel your heart racing, every nerve alive under his touch. He shifts, aligning with your entrance, and with a slow, steady push, he fills you, sparking a surge of pleasure. A moan escapes your lips as you grip his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, grounding you both in the intensity of the moment.
“Don’t hold back,” you murmur, breath hitching as he moves, and he responds with a deep, steady rhythm, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of heat. He breathes in your scent, voice rough with longing. “God, you feel incredible,” he murmurs, his pace quickening as he finds his rhythm. You cling to him, each movement taking you higher, your breath mingling with his.
“Yes, just like that,” you gasp, urging him on as he moves faster, the intensity building. He kisses you deeply, his mouth tracing along your jaw, finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. The touch sends shivers through you, making you tighten around him, drawing a low groan from his throat.
Every movement, every kiss, feels like poetry written just for you, a melody of intimacy and trust that’s as powerful as it is passionate. You lose yourself in him, the world outside disappearing, leaving only the two of you, intertwined and complete in each other’s embrace.
“God, I love you,” you whisper, voice thick with passion as each thrust sends shivers up your spine, grounding you in the heat of his touch and the rhythm of his heartbeat. You’re swept up, utterly consumed, and he meets your moan with a deep, urgent growl, holding you even closer, moving as though nothing else exists but this moment with you. He doesn’t need to say it back right now, because you know he feels the same.
“Are you close?” he breathes into your ear, his voice dark and velvet-soft, a question that’s half promise, half plea. Every inch of you is alive under him, and all you can manage is a fervent nod, your body arched into his, lips parted in breathless surrender.
His mouth trails down to your earlobe, nibbling, his breath warm as he kisses there, pulling you to the edge with one gentle bite. That tender touch is your undoing, and as you reach your release, a tremor of his name escapes your lips—a sound filled with love, with surrender, with the rawness of being completely his. Your body clenches around him, every nerve singing, and he murmurs a groan into your neck, his words barely audible, “God, you’re perfect.”
“Just a little more,” he grits out, voice rough and heady, feeling your muscles gradually relax in the aftermath. But still, he holds on, his hips relentless, moving faster as his own climax builds.
“Please, Jimin—fill me up,” you breathe, brushing your lips against his neck, leaving the lightest bite just where you know he loves it. He shudders at your words, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you against him. And then, with a breathless gasp, he reaches his peak, holding you in place as he comes, his body quivering with the intensity. As his breathing steadies, he kisses you softly, reverently, before gently setting you down. The warm evidence of your shared release traces down your skin, and you can’t help but smile at the beautiful mess you’ve made together.
“Let me clean you up with a shower, love,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. And with that, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the shower like a precious secret, his love wrapped around you as perfectly as his embrace.
The holiday season has always been your favorite, but this year feels even more special with Jimin home, his presence like a cozy fire warming you from within. Today, you’re headed to the town’s annual Christmas fair, your excitement bubbling up like a child’s as you watch the fresh snow blanket the world in shimmering white. The air is crisp and cold, frosting your breath in soft clouds, and as you step into your thick parka and tug on your wool hat and gloves, a familiar thrill sparks in your chest.
When Jimin pulls the car into the bustling fairground, the festive scene unfolds around you like a magical wonderland—ferris wheels lit up in every color, carousels spinning with children’s laughter, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and cocoa wafting from food stands. You take Jimin’s hand, his warmth grounding you, sending tiny shivers up your spine that make you feel safe, cherished.
“What should we do first?” he asks, his voice full of warmth and mischief. He leans in for a quick kiss, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling the giddiness of the season wrapped around you both. “Maybe a snack before we dive in?” you suggest, knowing your holiday joy can’t hold out too long against the allure of fair food.
Hand in hand, you make your way to a nearby stand for corn dogs, laughing as you watch Jimin take an exaggerated first bite, just to get you laughing too. As you wander through the fair, you try the carousels, giggling at being the only adults who dare to let loose on the spinning, painted horses. Jimin pulls funny faces just to make you laugh, and you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, unable to remember the last time you felt this carefree.
Then, when the two of you board the ferris wheel, you press yourself close to Jimin as the car rises, high above the lights and noise. The view stretches out over your small hometown, blanketed in snow, the twinkling lights below like stars that have settled on earth. You lean against his warmth as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer, his gaze soft and full as he cups your chin, drawing you into a kiss that’s slow, lingering, a promise of forever in the way he holds you. For a moment, the world below disappears, leaving only the quiet and the blue sky, and the warmth of Jimin’s hazel eyes gazing into yours.
As the wheel lowers, you link your fingers through his, laughing softly, already craving another snack and wondering what else this cozy winter day will bring. The sky dims, the fairground lights beginning to glow more brightly against the deepening twilight, and time feels like a gentle whisper, moving too quickly yet perfectly slow.
But then, a shadow passes through your heart, and a prickle of cold worry begins to creep along your skin, a reminder of something you can’t quite shake. You glance over your shoulder, and nothing’s there. Still, the thought of Hyun stirs in the back of your mind, his ominous words echoing faintly as your heart begins to race. You tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand, and he senses the shift immediately, glancing down with concern before pulling you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
“Hey, don’t worry too much,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. But you can’t help it—the fears that live in the corners of your mind sometimes refuse to fade, conjuring memories of times you’ve worked so hard to put behind you. Tonight, it’s as though they’re breathing down your neck.
Jimin holds you a little tighter, and for now, with his steady heartbeat against yours, you close your eyes and try to believe that this night will stay as warm and beautiful as it began.
“It’s okay, babe,” Jimin whispers, his voice a warm anchor in the chilly evening air, his gaze sweeping the crowd as if to shield you from every shadow. “Want to try one of the mini-games? Might be fun, right?” He nudges you gently, his hand wrapped around yours like a lifeline, and you nod, letting him lead you toward a brightly lit shooting game with yellow plastic ducks bobbing across the water. A neon sign above promises a plush prize to anyone who hits seven in a row, no misses allowed.
“Want to take a shot?” Jimin asks, his eyes sparkling with playful encouragement. You hesitate, glancing between the toy rifle and the ducks. You’ve never been much of a sharpshooter, and he is, after all, a cop. But something inside you wants to take the challenge, just to feel a little braver.
“Yeah, why not,” you say, smiling up at him as the game attendant hands you the toy rifle. With a deep breath, you take aim and fire, hearing a satisfying ping as the first duck falls. Jimin lets out a low whistle. “There’s my sharpshooter,” he murmurs. You grin, managing to hit the second, then the third. Your confidence grows with each shot, until only the seventh duck remains. With Jimin’s hand resting on your lower back, grounding you, you hold your breath, aim, and pull the trigger. The final duck topples.
“Yes!” Jimin’s cheers fill your ears as he pulls you in for a quick kiss, his lips brushing against your cheek, making you blush. “That’s my princess,” he beams, pride gleaming in his eyes. “Guess you learned from the best, huh?”
You laugh, “I had a pretty great teacher,” you tease, hugging him tight, though you know his lessons were few and far between—guns aren’t exactly your thing.
The man at the booth sighs, clearly reluctant to part with one of his prizes, but rules are rules. “Which one do you want?” he grumbles, gesturing toward the row of plush toys. You scan the lineup of bears, unicorns, ducks, dogs, and cats until a small, soft chicken catches your eye. Round and silly-looking with a chibi expression, it’s too cute to resist.
“I’ll take the chicken,” you say, and the attendant hands it to you with a reluctant sigh. Hugging the plushie, you feel an odd sense of victory.
Jimin wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you close. You lean back against him, feeling his warmth spread through you as you nuzzle the plush chicken. “So,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear, “what’s next? Ready to call it a night, or is there something else my champion wants to try?”
Your stomach growls in reply, making you both burst into laughter. “Food?” you giggle, rubbing your belly. “This little one has no mercy on my appetite.” He grins and takes your hand again, leading you to a cinnamon roll stand where the air is thick with the smell of sugar and spice. You savor the warm, sticky sweetness as you wander, munching on rolls as the world around you seems to fade to just the two of you in the glow of the fairground lights.
The sky darkens, and the colorful lights of the ferris wheel cast a dreamy glow over the fairground, painting the snow in soft hues of pink, blue, and gold. You can’t help but feel that shadow again, that prickling awareness, as though someone’s eyes are on you from just beyond the lights. You glance over your shoulder, and Jimin notices, squeezing your hand. “I swear… I feel like we’re being followed,” you murmur, trying to brush off the chill that’s settled into your bones.
Jimin’s arm tightens around you, his voice gentle. “I’ve got you. I promise. Let’s enjoy our night.” He scans the area one last time, reassuring you with a nod, and though you try to shake off the unease, your mind keeps circling back to shadows of memories and unwelcome fears.
As the evening winds down, you stroll hand in hand through the fair, taking in the final sights and sounds as the ferris wheel spins in the distance, a vibrant crown against the night sky. You head back toward the car, Jimin’s hand steady in yours, his presence like a shield against the cold and the shadows that linger in the corners of your mind.
It’s Christmas Eve morning, and waking beside Jimin feels like unwrapping a gift, precious and comforting. His warmth is the first thing you reach for, stirring your tired limbs awake as you press against him. He stirs, stretching languidly, then leans over to brush his lips against yours, a soft good morning murmured into the quiet. He reaches for his phone, eyes still soft with sleep—until something there pulls him fully awake. A line forms between his brows as he scans the screen, and then, a single word, “Shit.” The morning shatters. Jimin is up, rummaging hurriedly for his work clothes, pulling on formal slacks, a crisp white shirt, his hands deft as he straps his holster and gun into place.
“An emergency,” he explains, voice hushed but apologetic. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, okay?” His eyes linger on you, warm but tense, his lips brushing your forehead before he rushes out of the room.
You listen to his footsteps fade, the silence swallowing them like a gust in the snow. A strange feeling, subtle as a shadow, lingers in his absence. You try to brush it off, making your way to the bathroom, relishing the warmth of the heated floor beneath your feet. Under the hot spray of the shower, you ease yourself into the day, trying to shake the unsettled feeling, the vague sense of something amiss. In the kitchen, you make a cup of hot cocoa, cradling it in your hands as you settle onto the couch, fingers resting on the gentle swell of your belly. You find yourself drifting, dreaming of a future where you hold a small hand in yours, and Jimin beside you, as steady as the earth beneath your feet.
The hours slip by with quiet ease, the TV playing soft holiday movies in the background. But as afternoon settles into evening, a heavy quietness falls over the house. You haven’t heard from Jimin since he left, and though emergencies often keep him busy, a sense of something unresolved stirs within you, growing heavier with each passing hour.
A faint rumble from the bedroom breaks the silence, freezing you in place. The unease you’d tried to ignore rushes back, prickling the hairs at the nape of your neck. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, forcing a deep breath, though your fingers tighten around your phone. But your body is already in motion, carrying you down the hall, each step slower than the last, toward the darkened bedroom.
When you push open the door, all seems still—nothing out of place. But as your gaze drifts to the window, you notice the curtain shifting, disturbed by a breeze that shouldn’t be there. Heart pounding, you step forward to shut it, and in that instant, you feel a presence behind you. You turn, but it’s too late. A hooded figure looms before you, shadowed and terrifying. Your phone slips from your hand, a dull thud against the floor.
Before you can scream, a rough hand clamps over your mouth. The scent is all too familiar, acrid and sickening. You know who it is before you see him—Hyun. His voice rasps in your ear, dripping malice, “Didn’t I promise you a wedding gift?”
The room seems to spin. His grip presses harder, his body trapping you in place. Terror courses through your veins, and your mind flashes to Jimin, to the phone lying just out of reach. Adrenaline surges as you focus on your escape. You mumble something, forcing a desperate, repulsive trick as you lick his palm and bite down hard, tasting blood as he yanks his hand back, cursing.
You wrench free from his hold while he cradles his bleeding hand, wincing. Without a second to waste, you grab your phone off the floor, heart pounding, and sprint down the hall, locking yourself inside the bathroom. You sink to the floor, body trembling as you fight to steady your breaths, your fingers fumbling to open your messages. Somehow, you manage to type, sending two simple, desperate texts to Jimin.
You [19:24]: 9-1-1 You [19:24]: He’s here.
There’s nothing more to say, only the hope that he’ll see the messages in time. The moment hangs in silence—a fragile beat of hope—before you hear heavy, menacing footsteps in the hall. Then, a pounding at the door. “Y/N!” Hyun’s voice cuts through the wood, thick with malice. “Don’t play hide and seek with me. You know I’m gonna get you, my sweet thing, in the end."
Revulsion twists in your stomach, bile rising as tears prick your eyes. Trembling, you dial the emergency line, and as it rings, you realize there’s no refuge here—he won’t stop, won’t disappear no matter how hard you wish him gone. Your thoughts race as you pocket the phone, steeling yourself. But he doesn’t give you time to think—suddenly, the door crashes open, hinges splintering like brittle bone.
You scream, crawling back as fast as you can, but he’s on you, fingers wrapping around your ankles. Your hands claw the now cold tile as he drags you from the bathroom into the living room, your voice tearing from you in desperation, “Let go of me!”
He pins you down, his frame towering, shadowing you in an oppressive, hateful presence. “I’m never letting you go,” he whispers, his words thick with a sick promise. You feel his twisted obsession, the monstrous need that drove him here. You thrash, trying to throw him off, but he leans in, pressing his face too close, forcing his mouth onto yours. The taste is wrong, bitter, and you recoil, every part of you recoiling.
“Get off me!” Your words are a choked plea as you twist beneath him, managing to free your arms enough to claw at his face, leaving red, angry lines that well with blood. But he only smirks, taunting, “Cute. You think that’ll hurt me?”
He’s unfazed, mocking as he grasps your throat with both hands, squeezing, pressing until your vision blurs, and the room begins to darken at the edges. You gasp, a strangled sound, as the pain becomes a crushing, unbearable force. Memories flash unbidden—the last time he did this, the way his hands felt cold and final around your neck. But this time, it’s worse, the stakes higher, a life growing inside you that you’re desperate to protect. You have to live. You have to fight.
Your nails rake his skin, drawing blood that drips down his neck as you struggle, grunting against his grip. His hands press tighter, cutting off the last shreds of air, and your hands fall limp to your sides, your strength draining as your vision fades further, a comforting darkness luring you under. No—you can’t give in. Not now. Not ever.
Just as you begin to slip away, his hands release, and you collapse back, choking as air rushes in, searing your throat. You sputter, gasping for each ragged breath, your chest heaving.
He laughs—a hollow, twisted sound that scrapes against your raw nerves. Your hands fly instinctively to your bruised throat, fingers trembling over the tender skin where his hands left their cruel mark. Swallowing sends a lance of pain through you, but you grit your teeth and do it anyway, fury simmering beneath the ache. His laughter thickens, and you know, without a doubt, that he’s savoring your suffering, feeding on it. The thought turns your anger molten.
Without warning, you bring your knee up hard, aiming for his groin. His laughter cuts short as he doubles over, collapsing onto his back with a low, strangled sound. You don’t hesitate—climbing on top of him, your fingers find his throat, tightening with all the strength you have left. You press down, leaning your weight against him, mirroring his cruelty. But instead of fear, his mouth twists into a mocking smile, a dark glint in his eyes as he taunts, “Do you really think you can strangle me?”
No. You don’t. But that isn’t what you want—not his life, only your freedom. Only for him to be gone, to take his darkness and leave your life untouched. You press down harder, desperate, as if force alone could drive him out of your world, out of your head. But his lips curl into a smirk. “You know…” he sneers, his voice a poison, “I’ll keep coming back for you.”
A cold shiver snakes down your spine. His words claw at something raw inside you, turning your stomach. His eyes drift lower, his sneer deepening. “And I heard you’re carrying his child—that should be mine, not his.”
The air thickens with the weight of your anger, a red haze filling your vision. How dare he speak of you this way, as though you were something he could possess, as though you ever belonged to him. “I am not yours,” you snarl, voice thick with hate. “I never was, and I never will be. I just want you to leave me alone.” Your fists beat against his chest, fists shaking, as tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision. “I hate you—I hate everything you did to me, how you ruined me,” you cry, panting through clenched teeth. “And I said no. I kept saying no.”
Your voice breaks, and for a moment, you see a glint of something like triumph flicker across his face. He grips your arms, hard, and rolls you to the floor, pinning you beneath him, a sickly satisfaction in his eyes as he leans in close, close enough that you can taste his twisted need.
“Every time you said no, you wanted it more,” he whispers, voice dripping with malice. His hands slither over you, invading spaces that are yours alone, your body recoiling even as his grip tightens, forcing you still. “No!” you scream, thrashing against him, but his strength bears down like a stone weight, ignoring your protests. Slowly, the world fades around you, and you feel yourself withdrawing, spiraling inward to somewhere far from here, a place where his words and hands cannot reach.
But a spark within you flares, burning through the haze, and with a rush of fury, you bite down hard on his arm, tasting blood as he yelps in pain, finally loosening his hold. With every ounce of strength, you scramble away from him, crawling back to the nearest wall, your breaths ragged and desperate.
Across the room, he sits clutching his bleeding arm, his grin now faded, eyes narrowed in contempt. You lean against the wall, heart pounding, body shaking, but you’re grounded in your own fierce defiance. You will not give him the power he craves—you are done being his prey.
He staggers to his feet, a twisted smile curling as he steps closer. “I’m going to take my time with you,” he sneers, his voice a slow, venomous drawl. “Then I’m going to show your husband just how you submit to me… and then I’ll kill him.”
Rage flares, sharp and hot, flooding your veins with an almost blinding heat. It’s not just his threats against you that ignite this fury; it’s his words dripping poison over Jimin, over the fragile life blooming inside you. A primal protectiveness surges within, and without thinking, you hurl yourself at him, slamming into him with enough force to send both of you sprawling to the floor. He crashes down, the impact reverberating through the room with a sickening thud.
“Do you think you’re going to touch me? Or my husband? Ever again?!” Your voice, jagged and fierce, fills the space as your hands close around his throat again, pressing down with every ounce of strength. Rage surges, raw and instinctive, clouding your mind with only one thought: end this. End him. Your fingers dig deeper, feeling his pulse thrumming beneath your hands as his face begins to contort.
The front door bursts open, splintering the tense air. You flinch, loosening your grip just as Jimin and Yoongi storm in, guns drawn, with Seokjin and Hoseok rushing in behind them, wide-eyed and bracing. Jimin’s gaze finds you immediately, the calm surface barely veiling the torrent of worry and rage roiling beneath. You tremble, relief flooding through your exhausted body, but as you’re getting up, Hyun strikes—swinging his injured arm in a brutal arc, smashing his fist against your face. Pain explodes in bright, sharp pulses as you fall back, clutching your throbbing cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth.
“Why can’t you just let me touch you?” he spits, voice laced with fury and twisted desire.
Jimin’s composure cracks, a murderous glint darkening his eyes. He moves forward, tension coiling through his every muscle, his voice low and lethal. “Take your hands off my wife, you sick bastard.” He grabs Hyun by the collar, wrenching him off you, his grip hard as iron.
Hyun thrashes, laughing with a manic gleam, his voice ringing with a sinister satisfaction. “This is exactly what I wanted, Officer Park. And guess what? She’s just as responsive as I remember, all soft and sweet…”
A flash of unhinged rage sweeps over Jimin’s face, his jaw tightening as his hands shake, clenching tighter on Hyun’s collar. For a moment, his fingers inch toward his holster, Yoongi’s voice cutting in sharp and steady. “Park, don’t do it. Stay in control.” Jimin forces himself to release a breath, loosening his grip. He can’t, won’t, give in to the darkness Hyun is trying to pull him into. But his voice is thick with barely restrained fury as he hauls Hyun away from you.
Hoseok moves to your side, his face stricken as he watches you cradle your bruised cheek. His hand hovers just over your shoulder, cautious yet protective, as though he’s afraid you might break under his touch. You manage a shaky breath, giving him a nod of reassurance, though you can tell by the raw look in his eyes that you must look far worse than you feel.
And still, Hyun laughs, his eyes gleaming as they flick between you and Jimin, his voice dripping with contempt. “Oh, she’s going to remember me, Park. Forever. Just like she did five years ago. You remember, don’t you, sweetheart?” His words, cruel and deliberate, slice through the room like barbed wire, ripping open old wounds, dragging you back to that nightmare.
In a flash, Jimin draws his gun, pointing it squarely at Hyun’s chest, his finger hovering on the trigger. His body shakes with barely contained fury, the air tense, thick, every second stretching out like eternity. The memory of five years ago floods your mind—the fear, the helplessness, the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare that wouldn't end.
Your voice, raw and trembling, breaks the silence. “Jimin, please… don’t let him win.”
Hyun grins, even now, even in the face of the loaded weapon, as though he’s reveling in every ounce of pain he’s inflicted, every scar he’s carved into your life. His laugh is a twisted mockery of joy, a chilling echo that fills the room.
You know Jimin would never risk you, never gamble his career or his life with reckless abandon. But in his eyes, you see a glimmer of something dark and wild, something that whispers of casting it all aside, of ending Hyun’s life here and now. For a heartbeat, it seems Jimin might surrender to the rage, might be ready to take Hyun’s last breath in his hands.
But he doesn’t. He holds steady. Jimin’s hands shake, his gaze locked onto Hyun’s smug face. Slowly, he draws in a breath, the gun lowering by inches as he chooses, once again, not to let the darkness claim him. And then—Hyun draws a knife from his pocket, the steel flashing in the dim light, and the room holds its breath.
“She doesn’t belong to you. She never did. She’s mine,” Hyun hisses, leveling the knife at Jimin’s throat. You scream, voice raw, tears spilling down your cheeks as panic tightens around you like chains. All you can think is, not him. Not my husband.
Jimin moves to block the blade as Hyun lunges, deflecting the strike, but not without a cost. His forearm slices open, and he falls to the ground with a muffled groan. But even as Hyun’s relentless fury bears down on him, Jimin’s gaze shifts—just enough to spot you crawling closer, determination sparking in your eyes.
Desperation drives you as you surge forward, grabbing Hyun’s hair and yanking him back with a fierce strength you didn’t know you had. “Don’t you dare touch my husband!” Your voice echoes, fierce and unbreaking.
Hyun stumbles and crashes to the floor, the knife sliding out of his reach. You think it’s over, for a moment, but he strikes back, shoving you to the ground. The world blurs as he moves, clambering over Jimin, both of them grappling for the gun. And then—Hyun pries it from Jimin’s grip, pressing the barrel to Jimin’s chest. Time seems to stop, your own heartbeat falling out of rhythm as you watch in horror.
“Put the gun down,” Yoongi’s voice, hard as iron, cuts through the chaos. He stands steady, unshaken, his own weapon drawn, his gaze burning with lethal intent. But Hyun only laughs, the sound dark and manic, pressing the gun tighter against Jimin’s heart.
“This is your last warning,” Yoongi growls, words like an unbreakable vow. “You’re threatening a police officer.”
Jimin lies still beneath Hyun, his chest heaving, his eyes distant. You don’t understand—why isn’t he fighting? Has he given up? You search frantically for the knife, fingers shaking, your vision blurring with helpless tears as you feel the weight of your worst fears bearing down.
Then, with a sickening click, Hyun releases the safety. The gun hovers closer to Jimin’s heart, and a scream rips from you, piercing the air just as a gunshot rings out. A heavy thud follows, reverberating through your bones.
The noise fades, yet you’re still trembling, crawling to Jimin, your hands reaching instinctively to cradle his face. “Please don’t be dead. Please, Jimin…” The words tumble from you, desperate and broken.
He blinks, his hand rising slowly, tracing your cheek, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m okay. You’re okay.” Relief, dizzying and sweet, floods you as you crumble against him, tears dripping down onto his face as you press your forehead to his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and warm beneath you. He’s alive. You’re alive.
With a trembling breath, you glance back—just long enough to see Hyun lying on the floor, his body still and lifeless, blood pooling in dark rivulets beneath him. For a fleeting moment, you feel a strange satisfaction in seeing him silenced, the violence of his presence extinguished. But you look away, unable to bear it any longer.
Hoseok is beside you again in an instant, his hand gentle on your shoulder, murmuring reassurances as he checks for injuries, while Seokjin tends to the gash on Jimin’s arm, his expression pinched with worry. Yoongi approaches the fallen body, nudging the gun from Hyun’s grasp with cold detachment before leaning down to confirm what everyone already knows. His voice, quiet but resolute, carries a finality that cuts through the air.
“He’s dead.”
You finally breathe, feeling the weight of it all leave your chest as Seokjin and Hoseok finish tending to you both. The bruises will fade, and the cuts will heal, but now, only Jimin’s embrace matters. You step toward him, wrapping yourself around him as if to fuse your souls together, and murmur, “I’m so sorry,” the words barely slipping out.
“Why are you sorry, princess?” he asks gently, holding you as though you were made of glass. “You did everything you could.” He kisses your hand, his lips warm against the chill of your skin. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me—for getting here so late.” His words sink deep, yet the ache in your heart remains, a guilt that’s hard to explain. It was your fault that Hyun came back after all, right? That question gnaws at you, but Jimin seems to read your thoughts.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. All that matters is that you’re here, that we’re safe.” His hand falls softly to your belly. “Did he…did he hurt you?”
You nod, voice catching. “He did. He forced himself on me, tried to—” Your words fall short, choked with the memories, and he sees it all in your eyes. His face darkens, his heart sinking as he notices the bruises around your neck, stark and cruel reminders of what he wasn’t there to stop.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, pulling you closer, anger mingling with the helplessness he feels. He would have torn through any distance to protect you. But though he rushed the moment he saw your message, he still hadn’t made it in time.
Suddenly, you remember the phone call, the open line. Trembling, you pull out your phone and bring it to your ear, asking the emergency line if everything was recorded. The answer is a quiet “yes,” confirming you’re heard, that justice has begun. You let out a long breath and place your hand over his, a sense of finality washing over you.
“I’m sorry…for ruining Christmas.” You offer a wry, exhausted smile through the tears that finally still.
Jimin shakes his head, his fingers brushing away what’s left of your tears. “Please stop saying you’re sorry, love. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
With gentle concern, he glances toward Hoseok. “Can you get Y/N an ultrasound? Please—just to be sure that everything is fine with the baby.”
Hoseok nods, eyes warm with silent understanding. He hadn’t known of your pregnancy, but now that he does, his hands are even gentler as he helps you onto the stretcher. Inside the ambulance, Jimin sits beside you, his fingers never leaving yours. Outside, Yoongi is coordinating, ensuring the coroner and cleaners will take care of every trace left behind.
At the hospital, you and the baby are checked with steady hands and comforting reassurances. Taehyung confirms that everything’s fine, that the baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady. With every check, every calming word, a weight lifts. By the time Seokjin’s done stitching Jimin’s cut, it’s late into the night, and Yoongi arrives in his police car to drive you home.
Silence settles in the car, deep and quiet, until Yoongi breaks it with a solemn murmur, “I’m glad you didn’t do anything rash, Jimin. And Y/N…I’m glad you’re safe. That bastard can never hurt you again.” You nod, gratitude filling the spaces between your breaths, and reach for Jimin’s hand. All you want now is to feel his warmth beside you, to finally rest.
When you step through the front door, Jimin wraps his arms around you, and the world outside feels a little further away. The faint smell of cleaning agents lingers, but the Christmas tree still stands, softly lit, in the corner of the room. You find yourself drawn to the couch and sink into it, letting out a heavy sigh, Jimin settling in beside you.
“You fought well, my princess,” he says softly, his hand gently patting your hair. “You can finally rest.”
A small, tired laugh escapes as you close your eyes. “I’m just glad it’s over.”
Jimin smiles, warm and real. “Merry Christmas, love,” he whispers, settling you against him as you drift, exhaustion filling every inch of you. He strokes your hair with one hand, the other resting gently over the life growing within you. And in that embrace, all the pain and fear fade into something softer, warmer. For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re safe, nestled into the arms of the man who’d go to the ends of the earth to protect you.
→ Requested taglist: @13-manggaetteok @thelilbutifulthings @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @pjmxxjm
→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv
→ Author’s endnote: okay… wow. So what do you think? It’s kinda similar to the events that went down in the original story, but I never really liked the ending. I really wanted Hyun to die lol. But when I wrote the original story I was very much afraid of what people would think of that, so I didn’t go down that route. So this Christmas story gives me the ending that I truly want—but with a twist. Because I again debated who should kill Hyun, and original it was going to be the reader (with consequences), but I decided to change that and not give her even more trauma to process, lol. Well, I hoped you like it, even though it was rather dark (not what I usually write 🤭). Thank you for reading! 🌟
© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰
#jimin x reader#jimin fanfic#jimin fanfiction#bts jimin fanfic#jimin fic#jimin smut#park jimin x reader#bts jimin x reader#jimin x you#jimin x y/n#jimin x oc#pjm smut#pjm x you#pjm x reader#park jimin#park jimin fanfic#park jimin imagines#park jimin smut#bts smut#bangtan smut#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bangtan fanfic#bangtan x reader#bangtan fic#fic: coming home
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Day 314: Oppressed In The Butt By My Inclusive Holiday Coffee Cups
Believe it or not, this tingler is actually part of a cherished holiday memory for me. I won't go into the whole story, but when it came out I was at a kitchen job that sucked, and the one good thing about it was that the bosses were rarely around so my chef and I did not have to follow any standard of propriety when it came to what we listened to. It was just the two of us most days and we both loved putting on the raunchiest listening we could find. Dramatic readings of Chuck Tingle were becoming a thing on YouTube and this one became our beloved Holiday Special that we listened to several times during the season. A constant reminder to have an open heart and an open butt.
So, this one transports me back to that time in my life. There was a lot that wasn't going well, but I had recently learned of this self-published erotica author people were talking about online and I had all his fun short stories to cheer me up. Some things don't change.
However, I think tinglers themselves have changed. All year I've felt a slow tonal progression towards a softer expression of Dr. Tingle's espoused value of love. It's hard to articulate and I've been waiting for the right time to discuss it, and no time has felt better than now, when I've flipped all the way from 2023 tinglers back to a 2015 tingler.
Tinglers with unsympathetic protagonists- and this is one of them- are where I see the most marked difference between early tinglers and current ones. In the early ones I see more cynicism, I see mockery, I even occasionally get the feeling that characters' sexual urges are presented as part of the absurdity. Broadly speaking, earlier tinglers with unlikable protagonists will more often go after their subject for the way they feel, while more recent ones criticize their subject for the negative impact they have on the people around them.
I love this tingler. Like I said, it brought levity to a hard time in my life. At the same time, I read it and I can't totally blame people who thought, back in 2015, that Chuck Tingle was only a comedic persona- especially if they knew this tingler but hadn't read the more romantic fantasies also in the early tingleverse like "My Ass Is Haunted By The Gay Unicorn Colonel".
Dr. Tingle has already spoken about tinglers in the context of his neurodivergence, and unmasking through the process of writing tinglers. Looking at these stories from through the years, I feel like I can see the unmasking as a process in itself. This tingler has a thick coating of irony that feels more in line with the early audience's expectations. The true expression of the radical love that Dr. Tingle is known for feels like it's taken work to unearth from years of living in a culture that condemns sincerity. I don't know, that's just conjecture, I don't live in Dr. Tingle's head, but that's the picture that's come to me from over 300 days on this tingler reading journey.
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rewatching sonic twittok takeover #7 and there were some fucking GEMS of moments in here that i just kinda forgot about so recap
the boys were being SUCH boys in this one. making fart jokes and getting knuckles to hit himself was SO funny
shadow says his favorite flowers are lantanas
knuckles says she wants to see a version of sonic with laser eyes. nobody tell him about fleetway
tails "i hope there's a sonic that's my best friend <3 oH WAIT <3 THAT'S YOU!!! :D"
knuckles's answer to "what's under your gloves" is "what are you, a cop?" he implies this question is invasive
tails describes his own fur as "yellow-orange"
in the "sonic's dream" question, it's implied that sonic is a lil bit needy for attention. also knuckles mentioned he had a dream that the master emerald was talking to him
eggman has seen the incredibles
knuckles also made a ref to "so you're saying there's a chance" which implies he might've seen dumb and dumber. it's also a jim carrey reference
the team makes fun of knuckles for having a crush on rouge (whether or not he actually has a crush or if they're just annoying him on purpose is never stated, but tails did say knuckles bought her daisies. which is funny bc where the hell did knuckles get that money. tails also says he knows bc "he's a gossip")
knuckles refers to himself as "knuckles echidna", which probably wasn't an intentional reference to satam/underground sonic being "sonic hedgehog" but i appreciated it
knuckles once found shadow standing and staring silently at the trees of luminous forest and immediately, without question, started standing there staring with him
tails tries to suck up to razer gaming computers' official account which is really cute
tails gets dizzy during spin-dashing. amy used to but got used to it. sonic was really surprised to hear this
IF WE ALL DON'T REMEMBER THE TAILS "FEAR OF THUNDER" QUESTION WHAT EVEN ARE WE. tails homeless canon
tails says he admires eggman's work ethic and that made eggman emotional bc he doesn't get complimented much
when asked what eggman's fursona would be, amy suggested a fox or a wolf, sonic suggested a sloth or a baby flicky, which made me think of that one @neurotypical-sonic post
knuckles immediately tells a knuckles fan that he's a "terrible role-model" and he shouldn't have fans. then says of his personality: "everything sucks."
amy calls her fortune cards a hyperfixation, which implies that she's canonically neurodivergent
knuckles tries to steal amy's fortune card that has the master emerald on it
amy confirms that her bracelets aren't inhibitor rings which is funny cause that's like, an old 2020 post of mine lmao
amy claims shadow had fun at the hot honey concert and then asks sonic if he was jealous. sonic then proceeded to say that he's great company at a concert. amy invites everyone to a concert and knuckles says he wants to be in the mosh pit. tails says he wants to practice his line dance
when asked how he feels about shadow, tails calls him a misunderstood tragic hero and immediately points out that he's lost someone close to him and been "grappling with that for years."
HYSTERICAL moment when someone asks for rings and knuckles immediately punches sonic and steals his rings
eggman can't even remember starline's name. like bro you killed him
when asked about winter activities, knuckles likes snowball fights, sonic likes snowboarding, amy likes holiday decorating (and is one of the bitches who starts November 1), eggman says seasonal depression gives him great ideas, and tails didn't say anyth
sonic likes trains and supporting public transportation
sonic says he loves sleeping. eggman's been trying "intermittent sleep" which isnt going well
"would you guys like sonic if he was a worm" amy and tails say they would, knuckles says he wouldn't. sonic then quips that amy is a lil scared of bugs
vanilla apparently is constantly inviting the entire sonic squad for dinner. they seem to go over regularly
eggman eats paint
knuckles isn't allowed on the internet without supervision since the "incident."
amy and tails want to be more independent, knuckles wants to be less so.
"if you could swap roles with someone for an entire day, who would you choose" tails wanted eggman in order to get a hold with his tech
"is it painful to give knuckles a fist bump or a handshake" yes
eggman did indeed dissolve GUN during forces
it's implied tails knows what five nights at freddy's is. sonic freddy fazbear will be AT the fridge
sonic liked fighting fang and the end (which he referred to as a narcissistic planet), tails liked fighting chaos cause he "came into his own" during that game, amy says neo metal sonic gave her a headache, and knuckles says he has fought a lot of ghosts
eggman's goggles are for wind protection and style
tails's tails don't get tangled bc he's careful
trip has still been on the northstar islands this whole time. girl really looked out at the planet broken into shards and said "not my fucking problem"
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Christmas Time in the N109 Zone – Sylus x reader
Summary: Can you bring Christmas cheer to the N109 Zone? There’s only one way to find out. Content: Fluff, Sylus and reader are dating, reader is the MC, Christmas cheer (1.3k wc) A/N: I was not planning to write a Christmas fic, but I couldn’t help myself once “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Brenda Lee played on Spotify shuffle. I hope y’all are having a lovely holiday season no matter which holiday you may or may not be celebrating! Please enjoy <3
You were on an important mission. Your objective was to bring Christmas cheer to the N109 Zone, specifically Sylus’ place. Since you lost your grandma and Caleb in one fell swoop, you’ve struggled to feel any sort of Christmas cheer around this time of year.
With this plan in mind, your first step was to bring this up to your boyfriend Sylus. After you explained the reason behind your new project, Sylus’ crimson eyes softened, and he nodded in agreement. He would give you anything you asked for, and often things you didn’t think to ask for.
Over the days leading up the holiday you’ve drip fed bits of Christmas cheer into Sylus’ life and home.
December 20th:
You insist that Luke, Kieran and Mephisto join Sylus and you for Christmas photos at the local mall with Santa. Sylus huffs at the suggestion but after some insisting, relents because he can’t say no to you. You try to hold in laugh when the twins relentlessly tease their boss as you all wait in line for photos.
It is a little awkward trying to figure out where everyone will go for the photo. Eventually, you and Sylus end up sitting on the red rug at Santa’s feet, Luke and Kieran are sitting on one of Sant’s legs each while Mephisto perches himself on Santa’s left shoulder.
The resulting picture is silly and heartwarming. Right before the camera flashed Mephisto let out a festive "sqwack!" which caused you to glance up at him with a smile. Sylus is warmly gazing at you with a small smile on his face. Luke and Kieran are wearing their masks but with the addition of elf hats on each of their heads while they hold up bunny ears behind Santa’s head.
You make sure to have several copies in assorted sizes printed out before you leave the mall.
December 21st:
Sylus to comes with you for last minute tree shopping. Initially you were resigned to the idea that only thin, sad looking trees would be left. But a Christmas miracle occurred because you scored a HUGE, 10 foot tree that would fit perfectly under the high ceiling in Sylus’ living room.
Transporting the tree was the next obstacle, but luckily this was resolved with a generous tip from Sylus. And the tree was delivered later that day. Once the tree was placed in the designated corner of the living room, you could enact the next phase of operation: Bring Christmas Cheer. The decorating.
December 22nd:
The morning after bringing home the Christmas tree, you brought over some ornaments, garland, and an eerily familiar looking crow tree topper that you found while browsing online.
You…may have gone overboard with the three boxes of decorations you brought over but you wanted the entire living room to look festive. After having breakfast together, you, Sylus and the twins divided and conquered the decorating tasks as Christmas music played softly in the background. The twins were handling decorating the mantel above the fireplace and hanging up Christmas lights.
You focused on decorating the tree with Sylus. He decorated the upper parts of the tree that you could not reach because the tree was massive. Once you were satisfied with the decorations on the tree, Mephisto took it upon himself to seize the crow tree topper and plop it perfectly onto the point of the tree to finish it off.
December 23rd:
On this day, everyone went their separate way to buy, and wrap presents. You spent the day strolling through Linkon city’s downtown area and the N109 zone trying to drum up ideas of what to get everyone.
So far, this is your progress:
Luke and Kieran: matching ugly sweaters and red, festive crow masks commissioned from 303’s workshop in the N109 zone.
Luke: Crow shaped ice molds since you always catch him crunching on ice no matter the season.
Kieran: Supplies for dart making.
For Mephisto: a shiny Reindeer bauble because he loves collecting little trinkets.
The only person left on your list is Sylus. What would be a good gift for a man that could buy himself anything? You wander around for hours before dejectedly thinking about getting him something generic like a Christmas themed lotion set.
But your eye catches the glint of a beautiful picture frame inside of a photo shop, and you realize you have found the perfect gift for your boyfriend.
December 24th:
In anticipation for Christmas being tomorrow, you requested everyone’s presence at Sylus’ home.
You put on your favorite Christmas song playlist, while you all arrange your wrapped gifts under the tree. After they are all placed, you start baking some gingerbread cookies in Sylus’ kitchen.
While the cookies are sitting on a cooling wrack, you put on some classic Christmas films. You and Sylus cuddle on one of the couches while Luke and Kieran chase Mephisto around the room trying to place a teeny, tiny Santa hat on his head. (They were not successful)
During your childhood, it was a Christmas tradition to stay up until midnight before opening the presents. You try your best to do so, but you are no match for the Christmas movie marathon and Sylus’ body warmth. You end up dozing off.
The next thing you remember is being gently nudged awake. Opening your eyes reveals Sylus looking down at you amusedly. You glance at the clock on his fireplace mantle, and it reads 11:58 pm.
December 25th (midnight):
You smile softly at Sylus and get up to stretch. Then you spot Luke and Kieran cuddled up together and asleep on another couch. After waking them up and summoning Mephisto, you exchange gifts just as the clock hits midnight.
Luke and Kieran enthusiastically rip open their gifts. They both briefly pause as they unearth the identical masks you had commissioned for them, they unceremoniously stand up and run out of the room together. They return a few minutes later proudly wearing their new crow masks. “Thank you, Ms. Hunter,” they say in unison.
Mephisto caws happily as you roll another sparkly bauble his way. He quickly nips it in his beak and flies off to add it to his ever growing pile of trinkets.
You watch in nervous anticipation as Sylus begins to unwrap the gift you handed him. What you bought him is not the most expensive or luxurious gift, but you hope that your intentions shine through.
Once he’s removed all the wrapping paper, he takes a moment to silently scan the titanium picture frame. The frame holds multiple photos of you and him the past few months you’ve shared together.
Finally, after what felt like the world’s longest pause, he looks directly into your eyes and says, “Thank you for this sweetie, I’ll hang this up in my bedroom so I can see it when I fall asleep every morning.” Sylus’ smile is soft in a way you rarely get to see. His usual barriers and walls are down as his appreciation for the gift and his affection for you is clearly on display.
You heart is filled with gooey warmth as you look around the living room. Your gaze reaches the tree then realizing you are the only one who has not opened their presents. You received an astonishingly ugly sweater from Luke and Kieran and a crow plushie “from” Mephisto. Sylus hands you a small black box that holds a beautiful gold locket. When you open the locket a photo of you and Sylus looking blissfully happy greets you. Your grin is bright as you ask him to fasten it around your neck.
You wouldn’t forego all the chaos you had to go through to create the memories made with this chaotic bunch. This year, Christmas has officially made its way to the N109 Zone.
#sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x mc#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace fluff#lads sylus x reader#l&ds sylus#l&ds#l&ds x reader#sylus qin#qin che#sylus fluff#sylus fic#fanfic
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Its December 1955, and whilst small children watch and wait excitedly for Santa, adult Londoners scurry about their business with a few others enjoying a little fun playing snow balls in Traffalgar Square.
With the world always seemingly in turmoil, let's hope we all can experience a little Christmas cheer and happiness and hope 2025 can be a better year. Merry Christmas Everyone!
#london history#london life#london people#street scene#social history#transport#merry christmas#happy holidays#seasons greetings#1900s#1950s#video
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World-Building Planning Sheet
Physical World
Geography: Regions, terrain types, climates, natural resources.
Flora and fauna: Native plants and animals, ecosystems, mythical creatures (existing, or in legends/beliefs/stories).
Weather and seasons: Climate, seasonal changes, natural events.
Culture and Society
Inhabitants: Peoples, races, species, demographics.
Cities, towns, villages: Place names,types of structures, meeting places/local businesses, architectural styles.
Homes and living spaces: Types of housing, rooms, furnishings, etc.
Languages and dialects: Influences, common phrases, naming conventions, writing systems.
Societal structure: Stratification, class and status, minority groups, etc.
Cultural norms and values: Traditions, customs, taboos, social etiquette.
Religion and mythology: Deities, religious practices, folklore and legends.
Festivals and holidays: Major celebrations, events, cultural rituals.
Government and Politics
Political systems: Types of government, key political figures, historical changes.
Laws and justice: Legal systems, law enforcement, methods of punishment.
Economy: Currency, trade systems, major industries, economic disparities.
Technology and/or Magic
Technologies: Common technology, notable inventions, transportation, communication methods.
Magic systems (if applicable): Rules of magic, sources of magical power, spells and artifacts or talismans.
History
Historical events: Milestones, wars, revolutions, etc.
Important figures: Historical heroes and villains, influential leaders, mythic figures.
Timeline: Chronological order of major events.
Daily Life
Occupations: Common jobs, guilds or unions, typical workday, compensation.
Education: Common knowledge, schools, levels of education, paths of study.
Food and drink: Food sources, common cuisines, traditional dishes, influence from surrounding cultures (if any).
Fashion and clothing: Typical attire, clothing materials, fashion trends.
Arts and Entertainment
Music and dance: Popular genres, traditional instruments, notable performers.
Literature and art: Famous works, common themes, art styles, storytelling styles, philosophical beliefs.
Games and pastimes: Leisure activities, traditional games.
Source ⚜ More: Writing Worksheets & Templates Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ Notes & References
#requested#worldbuilding#writing reference#writeblr#dark academia#spilled ink#fiction#creative writing#writing prompt#light academia#literature#writers on tumblr#poets on tumblr#poetry#childe hassam#writing resources
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Worldbuilding Checklist (STILL UPDATING)
This is basically a bunch of worldbuilding checklists crammed together. Use what works for you, leave the rest. This is fantasy orientated and I will continue to update it regularly so reblog or comment something you think should be added.
History:
How far back does recorded history go?
How does history interact with myth and folklore?
How did the current system of governance come into power?
What are some notable figures of history?
Is your world's history broken down into eras?
What events have been twisted and changed as they've been passed down through the generations?
Geography:
What is the climate of this area?
What are the common plants of this area? Are there any fictional plants?
What are the common animals of this area? Are there any fictional animals?
Are there continents? Islands?
How much of this area is inhabited?
What area is known?
Country borders?
What are the major geographical landmarks i.e. rivers, mountains?
Where are the major trade routs?
What are the seasons like in this area?
Magic System:
How is magic practiced? Using wands, staffs, runes, etc?
How is magic learned?
Can magic be taken?
What can't magic do? What are its limitations?
What is the first thing a person learns when learning magic?
How are magic users perceived by others?
What are the laws regarding magic?
How does magic link to religion?
How has magic influenced history?
Politics and Law:
What style of leadership rules the area i.e. theocrasy (ruled by religion), monarchy (ruled by a royal family)?
How are laws created?
What is the process from the conception of a law to the point where it passed?
How is the law enforced?
What is the judicial system of this place?
Is there a death penalty?
Society and Culture:
How many major cultures are there?
What is their global population?
Where are they located geographically within your world?
Is there a social hierarchy / a division between the classes?
What are the major pieces of art in this world?
What does its music sound like? What instruments are used?
Are there well know folk songs?
What food is eaten by each group of society?
What are the treat foods of this area?
What are the foods saved for special occasions?
What holidays / special occasions are there?
Religion:
What are the major religions in this area? Do they get on with each other?
How are these religions viewed by their worshippers? By those who worship other religions? By those who worship no one at all?
How much does religion influence politics and the laws passed?
What do these religions believe in?
Are there divisions within these religions between groups who believe slightly different things?
How old are these religion? Which came first?
Which religion has the biggest influence on the world?
What are their opinions towards the government?
What are their opinions regarding the poor and the rich? Do they differ?
What are their opinions towards magic and technology?
Commerce and Industry:
What is the major industry?
Main imports / exports?
How wealthy is this country / area?
What valuable resources does this country / area have?
What are the common crops / livestock in this area?
Is this area coastal? Is there a fishing / trade industry?
Is this area forested? Logging and timber?
Technology:
What are the transport option available? For the poor? For the rich?
#writing#writing prompts#writeblr community#creative writing#writing prompt#prompt#fantasy prompts#prompts#writeblr#fantasy worldbuilding#fantasy#writing fantasy#worldbuilding#world building#worldbuilding stuff#worldbuilding questions
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timeless
'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this. So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine. We would've been timeless.
Summary: Screenwriter, Daenerys Targaryen, has landed the job of a lifetime, to remake the 1947 holiday classic, His Merry Wife! The original made Jon Stark a household name. However, he tragically died on Christmas Eve, 1948, cutting his promising career short. Dany’s boss, Tyrion Lannister, President of Golden Lion Productions, rejects Dany’s changes to the film’s ending, which would remove the heroine’s happy ever after with her love interest. Tyrion sends Dany to Highgarden Castle in hopes that visiting the filming location during the holiday season will spark Dany’s creativity and renew her belief and love for the original ending. While on a tour of the castle, Dany turns over a magical hourglass that transports her back to 1947 during the filming of His Merry Wife! Will she be able to return to her own time without changing history?
Ice and Fire Jonerys Discord
#jonerys#jonerys moodboard#jon snow#daenerys targaryen#jon snow x daenerys targaryen#jon x dany#jon x daenerys#ice and fire jonerys discord#jonerys christmas#modern and historical au#cause of magical time travel#writer!dany#actor!jon#a biltmore christmas remix#title and lyrics from timeless by taylor swift#merry christmas and happy holidays 🎄🎁🎅
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