#i'm not sure how my watch is supposed to know this but it looks like i woke up from rem sleep

[arvlelt]

pretty mechanic.

pairing - vi x fem!reader

cw - reader's attractiveness makes vi nervy, reader is a smarty pants duh, for the sake of the plot vi doesn’t like cait, fluff, teasing, etc. lmk if i missed anything.

request - For Vi, something with a fem reader, who she meets through Ekko. Reader is apart of the Firelights, a mechanic or a healer, and she's getting parts and Vi just spots her rummaging through old stuff that she's intent on using to fix a hover board, and gets all tongue tied because she was expecting some scrawny pack rat kid, not a pretty woman

w.count - 1.1k+

a/n - kinda short did w what i could, also it's not letting me tag the person that requested this so if you see this, this ones for you gang<3 not proofread

"this better not be a waste of our time," grumbled a pretty grumpy violet who was following ekko with caitlyn not too far behind.

they were on their way to maybe find some clues about powder before ekko insisted that they make a pit stop to fix his board.

ekko scoffed, "if you want my help, i'm going to need my board. which needs fixing. so i need to go to our mechanic, genius."

vi smirked, "what, you can't fix it yourself, big guy? need a lil 'ol mechanic to fix it?" her tone was teasing as ekko didn't reply.

vi thought that was the end of that and that her point was proven right at his silence.

so you could imagine her shock when she see's not a scrawny little nerd, but in fact a very pretty and fit woman.

vi felt her cheeks warming up as she eyed the woman bent over, rummaging through boxes of whatever you were looking for, vi wasn’t as fixated on that — and more on the woman in her eye frame.

she couldn’t help her wandering eyes as they examined your curves, taking in all of your body that she didn’t even seem to notice ekko and caitlyn watching her watch you.

she took in your complete outfit, short shorts that showed just enough but not a lot of your ass, fishnets underneath with a few layered t-shirts you had laying around that made you look so good.

vi seemed to sense a presence behind her she turned around with a slightly flustered expression, “who, uhm— who’s that?” she whispered. ekko couldn’t stop the shit eating grin from forming on his face.

you seemed to hear the commotion as you looked over your shoulder for a quick sec, not giving much attention to the newcomers, before going back to your little invention you were working on.

“what happened now, ekko?” he could hear the desperation in your voice as ekko had quite a habit of damaging his board after coming back from raids, which would make you pause whatever you were working on.

ekko moved past vi, caitlyn straying behind him, and walked into your work space, taking a comfortable seat on your desk next to you, "this is our mechanic, y/n! she can typically fix anything aaanddd, she's a huge help around here."

you scoffed at his praise, wiping the sweat off your brow as you turned around and vi fully saw your face.

she swore she could've fallen on her knees right then and there. you were down right gorgeous. and not just that, you for sure had to have brains. it certainly doesn't take the average person to know what they're doing with being a mechanic and fixing equipment.

vi couldn't help the words spilling out her mouth, as she suddenly felt flustered, "she's your mechanic?" sounding a little more loud than she intended to.

caitlyn was quite amused, not quite used to seeing big bad vi so tongue-tied over someone. and it's not like she could blame her.

you tried not to take offense to her little comment but your face betrayed you as you responded, "and what's that supposed to mean?" you had a bit of an attitude as you reached over and grabbed a rag, cleaning your hands of the grease.

vi could understand why, it's not like everyone in the undercity was as accepting of women doing 'man jobs'.

she winced at how she might've sounded, hands coming up in defense and immediately was fumbling over her words, "that's- that's not what i was implying-! you're.. you're just so.." she trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward under your gaze. you were looking at her with a raised brow, waiting for her to finish.

well it's not like she was implying a bad thing, you were just so pretty. and she could never imagine a pretty dainty thing like you getting your hands dirty, and honestly, she found it so hot.

"i'm soo..?"

oh vi was gonna piss herself at the tone of your voice.

ekko cleared his throat in attempt to save vi, "anways! we're here because i once again busted my board. you guessed it. so if you would be so kind," you scoffed and let go of whatever vi was trying to say and looked over at ekko, who was handing you his board.

vi swallowed hard and she could feel sweat forming on her forehead as she watched you two chatting, caitlyn grabbing her attention as she came next to her, "what's got you so.. not.. you...?" she questioned her but she knew very well what the reason was.

she was trying to tease her, honestly.

vi scoffed, rolling her eyes a bit at her question, "oh, please, you know exactly why," she walked out your workspace with caitlyn trailing behind her.

as they walked out you gave a slight glance at where they walked out before looking back at ekko, "who's that pink-haired chick? she got a problem?" you tilted your head as ekko let out a slight chuckle.

"oh, her only issue would be that you weren't trying to get at her," ekko let out a little laugh as your face dropped in shock.

well that's not what you were expecting. it's not everyday that a woman finds interest in you.

and honestly, it kind of intrigued you.

vi and caitlyn came back in, and once again vi couldn't find the will to speak in your presence. you looked at violet, this time taking a good look at her which seemed to make her blush as she felt her cheeks warming up under your gaze as you eyed her up and down.

"can i help you with something else?" your tone was kinder and more inviting as you could feel the nerves basically rolling off of vi.

vi looking to the side at caitlyn before looking back at you, "uh, just wanna know if you guys are done. we need to, uh, head out soon."

you hummed, looking at ekko and signaling for him to borrow your board, "well if it's urgent, ekko can use mine while i fix his," ekko took the courtesy of walking out, caitlyn as well.

which finally left you two alone for a split sec before the nerves got to vi again and she turned on her heel, ready to run for it.

"i didn't catch your name?" vi was going to faint, good lord.

there was no way such a pretty girl was asking for her name.

she turned over her shoulder, giving a shy smile, "violet, vi for short."

you hummed slightly in response and she watched as you moved along your workspace, grabbing ekko's board and placing it on your work desk, "well, vi, you should come by some time. let me get to know you," your back was turned to her as you started working on the disaster in front of you.

vi was going to explode. she couldn't help the little hops of victory she did quietly behind you before replying calmly.

"yeah for sure, that sounds nice."

[mandalhoerian]

i've been in the far orbit of this argument for a while and I'm really baffled why people can't be understanding of each other's perspectives and i'm sorry for what you're going through...

i want to have a little break-it-down for reblog's sakes if anyone wants to put this in their blog because there is MUCH to be said about the non-MC and you are the MC angles. spoiler alert: there is no wrong answer. it's about respect & understanding.

you are the main character

This perspective is all about inclusivity and self-insertion, which is honestly such a big draw for otome games in general. The idea is simple: you’re not just playing a game--you’re imagining yourself in the game. Your avatar is customizable, so you can tweak your appearance to reflect how you see yourself, or even how you want to see yourself. It’s like being dropped into an isekai where you’re not just some regular person--you’re someone special.

and HEY, who doesn’t want to imagine themselves as this badass, idealized version of themselves? In this game, you’re a cool hunter, you’ve got skills, you’re navigating this wild sci-fi/fantasy world with monsters and powers & oh yeah, you’ve got a literal aether core in your chest. That core isn’t just a plot device, it’s a metaphor for potential, for becoming something more. The game practically screams, “Hey, this could be you! Look how powerful and capable you could be!” It’s empowering in a way, and I totally get why people love this angle. It’s fun to imagine yourself as the one charming the LIs, holding your own in battle, and rising to the challenge of this world.

For people who vibe with this, it’s about escapism and self-expression. You don’t want to read about someone else being awesome, you want yourself to be awesome. It’s the ultimate power fantasy.

key word: power fantasy. which brings me to

you are NOT the main character

The argument here is that while the game tries to sell the MC as us, it just......... doesn’t land for a lot of players. Let’s start with the fact that this is a Chinese game, and the default character design is heavily rooted in East Asian beauty standards. Which is fine. It's their game, I'm not complaining I'm just telling it as it is. Yes, the skin tones are inclusive, and I’ll give them credit for that, but the body type? The facial features? The overall aesthetic? It’s not exactly universal. I mean, take a good look at my big fat ass and tell me how I’m supposed to feel immersed when the MC looks like a dainty stick figure who’d snap in half if she ever actually tried to fight (despite all the "abs" talk.) Like, she’s cute, sure, but she’s not me. And definitely not you. (Don't talk to me about "she has to look like that because she's a hunter, remember". all of us know that's not the case. it's about beauty standards.)

And then there’s the way she acts. Oh boy,,,,,,,, Sometimes it feels like she’s actively trying to make the worst decisions possible. It’s one thing to be flawed, flaws are human and relatable, but there are moments, especially in the Sylus arc, where I’m sitting there like, “Girl, what are you doing?!” She makes choices that I would never make, and it pulls me right out of the story because it’s not even a matter of imagining myself in her shoes anymore. It’s like watching a character in a TV show make a bad call, and you’re yelling at the screen, but it’s not like you can change what happens. That's okay, though, it's not a sin. She has her own personality, her own reactions, and her own story, and while that makes for a compelling narrative, it also makes it really clear that she’s not us.

For people who lean toward the “non-MC” argument, it’s frustrating because the game is selling this experience as one where we’re supposed to see ourselves in the MC, but she’s written in a way that feels so disconnected from how many of us would act or feel. It’s hard to immerse yourself in a story when the character representing you feels so far removed from who you are or who you want to be.

so what?

Honestly, I think this boils down to what you’re looking for in the game. If you’re someone who loves the “you are the MC” vibe, then you’re probably willing to overlook or even embrace the gaps between you and the character because the customization and the overarching narrative of personal growth are enough to make you feel seen. But if you’re in the “non-MC” camp, then every time the MC makes a cringe-worthy choice or the story reminds you that she’s more of a predefined character than a blank slate, it’s going to take you out of the experience. (This was me in "No Defense Zone", I had to put my phone down and do laps around in my room out of second hand embarrassment.)

Maybe the real issue here is that the game is trying to have it both ways. It wants to tell a story with a strong narrative and a compelling lead character, but it also wants to let players insert themselves into that story. And honestly? That’s a tough balance to strike. It works for some people, but for others, it ends up feeling like a half-measure that doesn’t fully satisfy either camp.

At the end of the day, I think it’s okay to feel a little jealous of the MC because, in a way, she isn’t us. She’s her own character, living her own life in this world, and we’re just along for the ride. And whether you see her as “you” or as “another character,” what really matters is how much you’re enjoying the story. So let’s keep discussing it, but maybe we can stop tearing each other apart and harrass people over it. It’s okay to love the game for what it is—or even for what it isn’t.

Guys I may be mentally insane but ... Why do I low-key feel jealous of MC when I see clips of the upcoming cards... Especially the Sylus one..

IK SHE'S MEANT TO BE US BUT 😭😭

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Coming Home

What do you do after you watch the prison arc.

Because anyone of them( minus Garcia) would have survived. I can see it. Morgan would either gain a little respect or fear, JJ has been torchured for christ sake what's prison? Aaron Hotchner has the RBF to get him through at least a couple of months. Emily, Gideon, they would have made it. Not the same sure but not as bad.

But Spencer?

LIKE DO YOU SEE IT??? LOOK AT HIM!

MY BABY IS NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT A PRISON LOOKS LIKE ON THE INSIDE. HE'S SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT HE SEES IN TAPES AND READS IN BOOKS!!

______________________________________________________________

So what do you do? I write a fanfic because it's Sunday (was) and I need ultra-specific medicine to heal my wounds.

______________________________________________________________

I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home

His keys gently clacked against the door, he gently twisted it in the lock and was greeted with a soft click. The door gently swayed quietly open,  the room was dark and quiet save a light from the bedroom. The smell of books greeted him and he noted how nothing had been touched before he…left.

Tell the world I'm comin' home

He’d seen his team earlier, He could still spell JJ’s perfume and Garcia’s cookies, he hugged his mom like he’d never before, she even remembered something and it was the icing on the cake.  She was there both mentally and physically and it really made him feel better. Her eyes weren’t cloudy with confusion like when he last saw her.

Let the rain wash away

The soft patter of the rain against the window got louder the more he entered the apartment. Non-threatening movement, he missed that. He softly closed the door and locked it behind him. He dropped his bag and heard shuffling from the bedroom. He unpacked his bags quietly and slipped out of his shoes.

All the pain of yesterday

He winced slightly, his leg was still injured and he knew he had to check it later but he had tunnel vision, he had been so lonely so on edge it physically hurt. The lone scar across his palm a dark reminder of the nightmares he survived, even though he’d call himself anything but-

A survivor

I know my kingdom awaits

He knocked softly on the bedroom door and opened it to be greeted with you in your nightwear. A pair of shirt and shorts he’s not seen for so long. You eyes lock and you start to tear up but he’s way ahead of you. He moves slowly like he’s trying not to scare you, he’s reaching out for you and before you know it. The two of you wrap your arms around each other and tears start flowing on both sides. 

“Spencer, oh my God! It’s really you? I’m not dreaming anymore? You’re really here? You’re free, you’re back!” You fingers grip his shoulder tight as bawl into his neck. He eases you onto the bed and kneels before you. He grasps your hands as he kisses it like a knight to his majesty.

“I’m so so sorry, I- I shouldn’t have lied to you. You trusted me and I lied to you,I am so sorry, I-” he cries deeper, his knees digging into the floor, crying into your hands, into your lap. He’s gripping you tightly, bawling. You quietly run your free hands into his curly brown hair, he briefly looks up at you and his red rimmed eyes. You then notice the black circles under his eyes. “I have no excuses.”

“You haven’t slept in so long, oh sweetheart,” you wipe his tears off his cheek and tilt his head up to you. You smile but it quickly falls before you plaster up a new one. He needed one. You kissed his forehead, your tears falling slightly onto his cheek. You giggle slightly as you wipe them as well.

And they've forgiven my mistakes

“If you apologise one more time, I swear to God I do not care if she’s some renowned assassin with contacts in every country, I will kill her with my bare hands, not even Emily’s silk tongue can get me off her cold corpse.” Spencer chuckles slightly as he buries himself more into you before looking back up at you.

“Oh baby��You haven’t been sleeping, a-are those faded bruises? Oh Spencer, what did they do to you in there?”

“I made a choice,” Spencer spoke, avoiding your eyes. 

“Did you think you might um-”

“Not make it back alive?” He smiled lightly before nodding. “Everyday for the past 3 months and 7 days, 12 hours, 13 minutes and 27 seconds until JJ got me out of there.”

I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home

“Oh Spence…We’ll talk about this later just–come here.” Spencer crawled into your arms and the warms nearly sent him to sleep. The prison was cold, day in and day out, his mattress was hard and hurt his back, he could almost see how many microbes were on the pillow he slept on. He didn’t trust the laundry even though he worked there. 

He briefly left after you convinced him to take a shower and change into a new pair of clothes, he promised to burn the ones he came in and the look in his eyes told you he’d meant it.

Tell the world I'm comin'

He looked at you as you patted right beside you. He slid in between the sheets and relaxed into your outstretched hands. The warmth enveloped him and he truly felt it.

Home.

[belaheart]

temptation.

abby x religious!reader cw: sexual tension, religious conflict. 1200 words.

the gym was supposed to be a place of clarity, where you could lose yourself in the rhythm of your routine and clear your mind. but lately, it had become a battleground for your thoughts. every day, you found yourself fighting an internal war, one that you weren't sure you could win. it wasn't the weights that weighed you down, but the undeniable pull you felt towards abby anderson.

abby wasn't just strong, she was everything. her muscles, the way her body moved with such power and precision, the way she walked with that effortless confidence - it all captivated you. and you couldn't stop watching her. you told yourself it was just admiration, but deep down, you knew it was more than that.

you tried to push the thoughts away. you were raised to believe in purity, in keeping your mind and body in check. your faith told you that these desires weren't right, that they conflicted with the values you held so close. but abby? abby was a temptation you couldn't ignore.

"hey, i've noticed you staring" abby's voice cut through your toughts, and you snapped your head up, caught in the act.

her smirk was playful, almost teasing. she was standing right in front of you, that cocky confidence radiating from her. she knew exactly what she was doing. "what's the matter, can't take your eyes off me?"

your face flushed, and you immediately looked down, trying to cover your embarrassment. "n-no, i wasn't staring" you stammered, your voice trembling just a little.

abby laughed, the sound rich and smooth. "don't lie to me. i've been working out here for a while, and i know when someone's checking me out" she leaned in closer, just enough to make your heart race. "it's okay, you know. i'd be lying if i said i didn't notice the way you look at me"

you swallowed hard, trying to find the words to respond. it was like she was challenging you, pushing you to admit something you weren't ready to say aloud. you knew she could see right through you. "i wasn't— i just-" your words stumbled over each other, your mind racing to make sense of the situation. "im trying to focus on my workout" you finally, managed to mutter.

"yeah? well, your 'focus' seems to be a little distracted by me. i can't help but notice how you keep looking in my direction." her voice dropped a little lower, more intimate, as if she was sharing a secret just for you. "don't worry, i'm used to it. i can be pretty hard to ignore."

you felt your heart skip a beat. everything about the way she spoke to you, the way she held herself, was sending your pulse racing. you couldn't deny it anymore. abby was right. you couldn't take your eyes off her. but the guilt gnawed at you, the voices in your head telling you this wasn't right. you had to push those thoughts away. this wasn't who you were supposed to be.

but abby wasn't giving you any room to breathe. she took a step closer, her body brushing against yours as she adjusted her position, her muscles flexing subtly under the tight tank top she wore. your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn't pull your gaze away.

"come on" she said, her tone now low and seductive. "you're here every day, staring at me, pretending you won't want this. don't pretend you dont like it” she reached out, her hand brushing lightly over your arm, sending an electric jolt through your body. "i see the way you look at me. it's obvious. so stop holding back"

you couldn't breathe. everything inside you screamed to step away, to remind yourself of what you were taught, of the values you'd worked so hard to uphold. but when abby touched you, when she spoke to you like that, all those thoughts started to blur, fading into the background. the only thing that mattered was her, standing so close, so confident, and so unbearably attractive.

"abby" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest.

"i can't... i can't think like this. it's wrong"

abby chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "wrong? who told you that?" she leaned in just a little closer, her lips dangerously close to your ear. "im not here to make you feel bad about it. im just giving you a little taste of what you've been wanting" her voice dropped to a whisper.

"you can't deny it, you want me”

it was like everything inside you shattered. the guilt, the internal conflict, it all faded away in that moment. the tension between you was too much to resist. you reached out, your hand trembling as you touched her arm, the warmth of her skin setting your nerves alight.

"abby" you said again, this time your voice steady, though full of desire. "i can't keep pretending i'm not...feeling like this"

she smiled, a knowing, cocky smile, as if she'd already won. "good" she said, her fingers lightly tracing your jaw. "i was getting tired of waiting for you to admit it”

you hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, your lips brushing against hers. it was tentative at first, unsure, but as the kiss deepened, all your doubts, all your fears, melted away. abby's kiss was like a drug, intoxicating and powerful, and you couldn't get enough.

when you finally pulled away, your breath was ragged, your body trembling with a mixture of desire and guilt. but abby just looked at you, her smirk still in place, as if this was all part of the plan.

"you're not the only one who's been fighting it" she said softly, her hand gently caressing your cheek.

© belaheart 2024. all rights reserved.

[demonic0angel]

Random idea of Jazz and Jason living on a farm in the country together. Caring for the animals, making their own food, domestic sunsets on the porch.

(*starts tap dancing in joy* this got very long lmaooo)

Jason stared into the horizon, as the sun began to set, casting the world into golden yellow and fire red hues. He was still standing, just holding his scythe in one hand as he heard the rustle of wheat behind him.

Jazz stood next to him, watching the sky alongside him before she turned and leaned against his shoulder. "You shouldn't stare into the sun."

Jason hummed. He wrapped an arm around her and finally peeled his eyes away from the approaching nightfall. He kissed her forehead and said, "I know. Shall we go inside?"

She nodded and they walked together back to their home, a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. A barn and a mill were also nearby, providing them with more food. They were surrounded by fields on two sides, a large stretch of forest on the other, and a river weaving in between. Shadow was waiting for them at the door, their tail wagging as it watched them approach.

Jason closed the door when they were all inside, locking the several chains and deadbolt locks. Jazz closed all of their windows and blinds. Shadow disappeared in and out of their namesake, hopping in every dark corner of their home before coming back, confirming that it was safe and locked tight.

When they were done, Jazz pushed him to his seat and began dishing out food. He smiled at the sight of her bringing out the pheasant he had hunted on a plate, before she brought bowls of soup and bread over.

"Has anything happened while I was taking care of the fields?" He asked.

Jazz paused and then nodded. "Yes. I saw a straggler, so I killed them before anything could happen. They were in the woods, and I think they were alone, but I can't guarantee it."

Jason's heart sped up a beat at the thought of Jazz being alone while a straggler had been far too close to them, before he took a deep breath and calmed down.

"Alright. If that's true, we should comb through the woods one more time to make sure it's clean. I don't want anything to ambush us."

Jazz nodded. He reached over to brush her hair from her face and lay a kiss on her forehead. She smiled and he relaxed at the happiness on her face before they both went back to eating.

"What about you?" She asked. "How's the fields? And livestock?"

"Our chickens are doing well," he said thoughtfully. He looked down at his food and praised, "You've outdone yourself again, princess. This tastes amazing."

Jazz beamed again. Jason continued, "I think we have enough food to last us awhile. I'm not sure what winter is going to look like, but when we investigate the woods, we can look into the nearby towns and see if there's anything left to salvage."

Jazz nodded. Then she began slowly, "By the way... about Alfred..."

Jason paused, eyes wide. He looked at her and her expression was worried. "What about him? Did he get out? Did he do something to you?"

Jazz looked at her soup, mostly watery with carrots and potatoes and the barest amounts of herbs. "... he spoke to me today. He called me Miss Gordon."

Jason couldn't help his intake of breath and the hand reaching out to cover his mouth. "What?! But— But isn't he supposed to be..?!"

She nodded quickly. "That's what I thought too. But I think, he's either starting to remember things and might've recognized my hair or... or he's learning to imitate human speech." She winced from her words, but Jason didn't really notice.

He was thinking of the possibilities.

Ever since that faithful day, it had only been him, Jazz, and Shadow all on their own. Shadow had helped them both get away from the chaos and deaths, but they were pretty much isolated. All they knew was that the entire world had gone to shit and no one could reach them.

He had no idea if his family or friends were okay. Not even Jazz could reach out to her own family. She had no idea what was happening, and all they had was each other.

Things hadn't really changed even when Alfred had stumbled onto the slice of paradise and peace Jason had carved out for himself and Jazz. They had to lock him in the basement, but since there was nothing they could do about his condition, this was their only way of handling it without killing him for good.

Jason focused back on Jazz, who was nearly wilting from some misplaced sense of guilt. He reached out again to hold her hand, squeezing as he said, "I don't blame you for anything, Jazz. No matter what he says... protect yourself first, okay? Your safety matters most to me. I think for now, let's just continue observing him."

She nodded. Jason turned to Shadow and asked, "Hey, could you keep an eye on Alfred for me? If he does anything or gets out, wake us up."

The ancient looked up and nodded, and that was settled. Dinner continued in quiet chatter as the tension eased, and eventually they prepared for bed.

Jason had never expected to live such a strange life of domesticity.

As night fell and Jazz slept in his arms with her long limbs wrapped around him like an octopus, Jason could not help but marvel at the situation, in a house with the woman he loved, peaceful and without any heroics, with his grandfather in the house somewhere too (although Alfred was not really the same.)

Even if the world was ending, with the people he loved most around him, Jason did not feel worried.

His eyes began to droop.

Soon, he too fell asleep. As the world around them continued to move, Jason felt secure in his bed with Jazz in his arms and Shadow curled up by their feet.

The earth would continue spinning.

[scarletwinterxx]

thank my lucky stars for that night - hong joshua imagine

to start this special day, i'm just going to say a few things about my favorite person aka Jisoo Hong🥺 through the years i've known svt, whenever someone asks me who my bias was I'd always say Joshua (this was way back when I was just a casual fan) now we're here. I like to believe there's this invisible string that's tied between us, my heart knew i would love him before my mind ever did. happy happy birthday My Josh🤍 you brought so much happiness and light in my life.

ANYWAYS OKAY SO i was just thinking what if... i make more of the members x proposal scene😅 turns out i really like making these. this will also probably my last post for this year, thank you all so much for being part of my year. for those who has shown love to my blog, for loving my stories thank you all so much from all 13 parts of my heart🤍

see you all next year!!! here's to many more fluff moments💛 - A.N🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The soft hum of anticipation fills the air as you pace around the garden, making last-minute adjustments to the decorations. The fairy lights you meticulously strung through the branches of the oak trees twinkle like tiny stars, casting a warm glow over the carefully arranged tables.

You’ve been planning this evening for months, pouring over every detail to make it perfect for Joshua’s birthday and New Year’s Eve.

The garden is a symphony of colors and fragrances, with flowers blooming in soft pastels, their petals illuminated by the golden light of lanterns. This night isn’t just a celebration of his birthday but also of the love you’ve shared for the past four years.

Guests begin to arrive, their laughter and chatter adding life to the serene setting. Seungcheol, ever the charismatic presence, gives you a knowing grin as he takes in the ambiance. Jeonghan and Mingyu flank him, one carrying a bottle of wine and the other balancing a tray of appetizers. Seungkwan’s energetic voice cuts through the air as he jokes with Vernon, who’s capturing candid moments with his camera.

As the clock ticks closer to the moment Joshua is supposed to arrive, your nerves bubble to the surface.

You’ve gone to great lengths to keep this celebration a secret from him, and the thought of seeing his reaction fills you with both excitement and trepidation.

The garden fills with the hum of conversation, the sound of glasses clinking, and the occasional burst of laughter. Everything is ready.

When Joshua finally walks in, guided by Seungcheol, your heart skips a beat. Dressed in a sleek suit, he looks effortlessly handsome, his warm brown eyes scanning the scene before landing on you. His face lights up in surprise, his lips parting in a soft, astonished laugh.

“You did all this?” he asks, his voice tinged with awe as he takes in the decorations, the guests, and the love infused into every detail of the evening.

You nod, your cheeks flushing. “Happy birthday, Josh”

He pulls you into a hug, his arms enveloping you in a warmth that feels like home. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

You feel him kiss the top of head, hugging you tighter to his side as he takes in the scene in front of him. You really have outdone yourself.

Seungcheol, never one to miss a moment to tease, strolls over. “Alright, birthday boy, how does it feel to have someone who loves you enough to orchestrate this masterpiece?”

Joshua grins, holding you closer. “It feels pretty incredible. But I think I’ll reserve my final judgment until I see the dessert.”

“Oh, don’t worry, the dessert’s good. Mingyu didn’t touch it.” Jeonghan smirks, chiming in

“Hey!” Mingyu protests, looking genuinely offended. “I helped decorate the cake!”

“Sure you did,” Seungkwan quips, earning a round of laughter from everyone.

The evening unfolds like a dream. You watch as Joshua mingles with friends and family, his laughter blending seamlessly with theirs. The food, which you carefully curated to include his favorite dishes, is a hit. The cake—a decadent creation adorned with fresh flowers—is met with gasps of admiration. Every moment feels like a snapshot of joy, a testament to the life you’ve built together.

At one point, Joshua finds you by the dessert table, sneaking a second slice of cake. “Caught red-handed,” you tease, crossing your arms.

He shrugs, grinning mischievously. “What can I say? It’s my birthday. Besides, you can’t expect me to resist this. Did you try the frosting? It’s like happiness in edible form.”

“I did,” you reply, leaning closer. “And I’m starting to think I should’ve just given you a giant tub of it instead of planning all this.”

He laughs, pulling you into a quick kiss. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is perfect.”

But as the night progresses, you can’t shake the feeling that Joshua knows something you don’t. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, a secret he seems to be guarding with playful ease.

When the clock strikes ten, Joshua takes your hand. “Come with me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning suspicion. “Should I be worried? You’re not going to prank me, are you?”

He chuckles. “Just trust me.”

He leads you to a secluded part of the garden, away from the laughter and clinking glasses. The path is lined with lanterns, their light casting dancing shadows on the cobblestone. When you reach the clearing, your breath catches in your throat.

Before you lies a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Hundreds of flowers blanket the ground, their vibrant colors glowing under the soft light of stringed bulbs overhead.

The air is thick with their sweet fragrance, mingling with the crispness of the night. The lights seem to stretch endlessly, creating a canopy of stars just for the two of you.

You turn to Joshua, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What is this?”

He smiles at you, guiding you right at the center of it all. You look around, it looked like he had this planned all along. But if he did, then that means he knew about your surprise.

All of this question swirling in your head, you look over at your boyfriend once again. His eyes watching you with adoration and love, a look you've seen through the years you've known him.

He takes both your hands in his, his gaze steady and full of affection. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment,” he begins, his voice tinged with emotion. “These past four years with you have been the happiest of my life. You’ve shown me what it means to love and be loved, and I can’t imagine spending my future without you in it”

Your heart races as he drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. When he opens it, the ring inside catches the light, its brilliance rivaled only by the look in his eyes.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, his voice steady despite the emotion brimming in his eyes.

You blink back tears, a laugh bubbling out amidst your astonishment. “Are you serious? You’re proposing on your birthday?”

“Yes, so be nice to me and technically, it’s almost New Year’s Eve. I figured it’d make it impossible for you to ever forget the date.”

Tears blur your vision as you nod, your voice trembling with joy. “Yes, Joshua. A thousand times, yes.”

As he slips the ring onto your finger, a burst of color fills the sky. Fireworks explode overhead, painting the night with dazzling hues of red, blue, and gold.

The sound is thunderous, yet it only amplifies the heartbeat of the moment. Joshua’s arms wrap around you, his laughter mingling with yours as you both look up at the sky.

When the fireworks fade and the garden is bathed once more in the gentle glow of the lights, your friends rush in, their cheers filling the air. Seungcheol claps Joshua on the back, Jeonghan pulls you into a tight hug, and Seungkwan’s voice carries above the rest as he dramatically wipes away a nonexistent tear. Vernon captures every moment, his camera clicking away as Mingyu lifts you off the ground in celebration.

“You know,” Mingyu says, setting you down, “this means we get to plan a wedding now. I call dibs on being the taste tester for the cake.”

“In your dreams,” Seungkwan retorts. “I’m the best judge of flavors here.”

“Not if I get to the bakery first,” Vernon mutters, earning a round of laughter.

The night is a whirlwind of congratulations, laughter, and promises for the future. The new year have yet to begin but here you are celebrating a new beginning of your relationship, you find yourself in Joshua’s arms, surrounded by the people you love most. The garden, now quieter, feels like a sanctuary, a place where one chapter of your life ended and another began.

And as Joshua leans in to kiss you, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you and the love that brought you here.

[starrylanex]

closure >>> dean winchester

secret santa gift for @ocearin >>> i’m so sorry for being late i was swamped with work, but here is your christmas/new years secret santa exchange hope you like it:))))

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The bunker was unusually quiet tonight. The kind of quiet that settled heavy in your chest, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to break. You walked through the dimly lit hallways, searching for him. You didn't need to ask where he was — you knew. Dean always retreated to the kitchen when he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Or when he wanted to drown them out with whiskey. 

Sure enough, there he was, sitting at the table, hunched over a glass of amber liquid. His leather jacket hung off the back of his chair, his shoulders slumped like they were carrying the weight of the world. The soft glow of the lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. 

You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. He didn't move, didn't even seem to notice you were there. His fingers traced the rim of the glass absently, his gaze fixed on something far away, something you couldn't see. 

"Hey," you called softly, stepping into the room. 

Dean didn't look up, but his jaw tightened. He always did that when he was trying to keep it together, like showing any emotion would make him shatter. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he muttered, his voice rough, edged with guilt. 

You shrugged, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down. "I could ask you the same." 

Dean huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Sleep's overrated." 

You tilted your head, studying him. His walls were up, but you knew how to see through the cracks. "Or maybe you're just too busy beating yourself up to let yourself rest." 

That earned you a glare, though it lacked its usual fire. "What do you want,” he greeted out your name through his teeth, but you didn’t take offense. You never could.

"I want to know what's going on in that head of yours," you said, leaning forward. "Because you've been like this since the hunt, and it's killing me to see you like this." 

Dean's gaze dropped to the table, his fingers tightening around the glass. "There's nothing to talk about." 

"Dean," you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. He flinched at the contact but didn't pull away. "You don't have to do this alone. Talk to me." 

For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "That kid... I could've saved him." 

Your heart clenched. You knew exactly what he was talking about. The boy on the hunt, the one you hadn't been able to get to in time. 

"Dean, you did everything you could," you said gently. 

"No," he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut. He pushed back his chair and stood, pacing the room like a caged animal. "If I'd just been faster, smarter... he'd still be alive." 

You stood too, following him. "Dean, listen to me. You can't blame yourself for this." 

"Why not?" he shot back, spinning around to face you. His eyes burned with frustration, but underneath it, you saw the pain. The guilt. "I'm the guy who's supposed to save people, right? That's my job. And I failed." 

"No, you didn't," you said firmly. "You did everything you could. Sometimes, it's just... out of our hands." 

Dean let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Out of our hands," he repeated. "That's a nice way of saying I wasn't good enough." 

Your chest ached at the way he was tearing himself apart. You stepped closer, reaching out to take his hand. "Dean, look at me." 

He hesitated, but when he finally met your eyes, you saw the cracks in them, the way he was barely holding himself together. 

"You are good enough," you said, your voice steady. "You've saved more lives than anyone I've ever known. You're one of the best people I've ever met. But you're human. You can't save everyone." 

Dean's jaw tightened, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That doesn't make it any easier." 

"I know," you whispered. "I know it doesn't. But carrying this guilt around isn't going to help anyone. Least of all you." 

He looked away, his shoulders sagging. "I just... I keep seeing his face. Every time I close my eyes." 

Your heart broke for him. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened at first, like he wasn't sure he deserved the comfort. But then he melted into your embrace, his head resting on your shoulder. 

"You don't have to carry it alone, Dean," you murmured, your hand running up and down his back.

He didn't respond right away, but you felt the way he held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. 

"I don't know how you do it," he said finally, his voice muffled against your shoulder. 

"Do what?" you asked. 

"Stick around," he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. His green eyes were filled with a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. "After everything... why do you stay?" 

You cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "Because I love you, Dean Winchester. Because I see the man you are, not the mistakes you think define you." 

A tear slipped down his cheek, and you wiped it away before it could have the chance to reach past his nose. "You're not a failure, Dean. You're human. And you're one of the strongest, bravest, most selfless people I've ever known." 

He shook his head, his voice trembling. "I don't feel like that guy." 

"That's because you don't see yourself the way I see you," you said softly. "But I'm not going anywhere. I'll remind you every single day if I have to." 

Dean closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "Thank you," he whispered. 

"For what?" 

"For not giving up on me," he said, his eyes opening to meet yours. 

"Never," you said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're stuck with me, Winchester." 

A faint smile tugged at his lips, the first you'd seen in days. It wasn't much, but it was a start. 

You led him back to the table, sitting down beside him. He didn't let go of your hand, and you didn't make him. You sat there in the quiet of the bunker, the weight in the air a little lighter now. 

He murmured your name after a while, his voice soft. 

"Yeah?" 

"I don't say it enough, but... I don't know what I'd do without you." 

You squeezed his hand, smiling at him. "Good thing you don't have to find out." 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Dean let himself relax. And as you sat there together, you knew that no matter how heavy the weight he carried, you'd always be there to help him shoulder it.

[jal-the-jinxed]

MOONSHADOW MARKINGS S7

a maybe mildly comprehensive rambling

Whenever we meet an elf in the show I stare at their markings and this is what I've got from season 7

Lets kick it off with the Moon Cubs!

First off there's the cub who's making embarrassing Callum her new favorite hobby

From what I've seen, her markings are most like Callisto's

Then we have the cub with the yellow eyes

The only moonshadow with markings I'd call similar is this friend from the tabletop game

But they're only a little bit similar and I don't know too much about the tabletop game so I'm not sure what such markings might mean 😅

Either way, what the elves paint on themselves has meaning, which leads up to the cub I really want to talk about-

Last of all is this little guy, who's got a nose stripe like Runaan

Past Runaan specifically

I'm fairly certain this sketch is of the past bc I'd find it confusing to change up his facepaint and mend his horn for no reason, on top of that Ethari is wearing his og outfit and also has different markings. The markings stay for a long while, I think the creators described them as like extra-long lasting henna's, so the fact that 2/3 cubs might have assassin markings is Interesting to me. There's a lot of moonshadow markings that go across the cheeks like the oldest moon cub's does, so it could be only one cub with possible assassin markings, but i find it curious either way. Like how and why are marks picked for elf children, especially marks that seem to have correlation to roles/careers/etc? Do kiddos get markings similar to what their parents have to kind of show familial connection? Or do parents paint the markings based off what they'd like their kid to be or what the kid seems enclined for? And if so then how often do the markings get swapped? People can change their mind on what path in life they want as they grow, and kids can change their mind on something like that every day.

On the note of swapping markings-

In that past sketch, it looks like Ethari has fewer marks on his cheeks and shoulders, then in the episode we meet him, he has these circle-y markings filling up the space on his cheeks and shoulders.

And then in season seven he has very swirly-ee markings

Similar enough that I didn't notice on my first watch but different enough that I'm staring wanting to know the meaning

Since it seems like markings correlate to roles/jobs/whatever and also the rank the elf has in that position, I'm guessing the increasing amount of circles on Ethari and the second nose stripe on Runaan is to show their moving up in the ranks. But the change from clean, geometric markings to more organic swirlies for Ethari feels like a more personal thing. We know home boy has a steady hand, so even if Runaan painted his markings before they wouldn't look this different now. Maybe he wanted something more spiral-y to lowkey match the mark over Runaan's heart or the patterns he adorned his husband with?

I think I actually know why, though: "Similar but different."

When there's stuff you did with someone and suddenly you don't have that person anymore, doing that stuff is hard. To put it lightly. There's this part of your brain that screams something's incorrect, something's off, something is wrong. Because this isn't a you thing, it's a you and that person thing. But they're not here. It's not supposed to be like this.

That's were the "but different" comes in. If you change it up then it's no longer what you did with that person, at least not exactly, and that can be enough to make it manageable. You still achieve whatever the objective is, just differently.

So if Runaan and Ethari painted each other's markings, then I believe that this is one of Ethari’s Similar-but-Different's. Painting them the way his husband did was painful, it was supposed to be Runaan's hands creating those shapes, but now it was his own. So he changed them. He couldn't just stop wearing them, they're kind of like a uniform, so he made them similar but different.

More on changing markings- As far as I'm aware, no elf has changed markings more than Runaan. Not canonically, but in the Xadia phone game. The game was never compatible with my phone so everything I know about it is from other people's posts, but from what I've seen it looks like Runaan has the most marking changes out of all the elves. He's got different markings in his moon phoenix skin, the wasteland skin, the halloween skin, the theif skin, featherblade skin, another one that idk the name of, and maybe more? No idea how many skins the characters have, but I don't think I've seen major marking changes in the other elves skins? Could totally be wrong though

Either way, I think Runaan's markings are going to change and I think the game might have hints as to how.

Runaan no longer believes in precision violence, hell the boy just realized he's alive, too. So he's probably got a career change coming, which means a uniform/markings change.

So what's a stabby boy who no longer believes in precision violence gonna do? Probably protect, I think. There's a whole brand new city/kingdom and undead souls running rampant every time the sun goes down, so between that and more, there's tons of stuff to protect and defend. And I think he's going to become some type of guard or something like that.

How will this change his markings? I think they'll look most similar to his moon phoenix skin markings

Our guy was "already dead", actually died, came back to life, and realized he's actually alive. That's just got phoenix vibes all over it. We're also introduced to moon phoenix's by a guardian in the show. But besides vibes, I want to point at the marks on his cheeks in this skin. They're these two little lines beneath his eyes atop his cheeks, kind of like...

They're slanted at different angles and I think the dragon guards markings are supposed to remind you of dragons its the shapes for me but I think Runaan's new markings are going to be similar, sort of twin little lines across his cheeks under his eyes like his old friends and his phoenix skin.

I think his arm markings will probably change too, but I'm too sleepy to go on about that, goodnight ✌️

[amysteryspot]

A Woman's Worth - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony tries to salvage what's left of his marriage and discovers what his wife is truly worth. (Part one)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV Show)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, cheating and lots of angst. English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread.

Word Count: 4648

A/N: After so long, this piece is finally here. Thanks for patiently waiting and thanks @cevansgoodgirl for the help.

There is a mix of a scene with Laurie and Amy in Little Women and another one with Benedict and Tessa (the model/painter in 02x05), just so you know.

He remembers the first time he saw her—really saw her.

The (Y/L/N)s were guests in Aubrey House, and (Y/N) was in the balcony with Benedict while both their mothers and most of their siblings were in the lawn.

Anthony is not even sure what drew his attention when he was passing by, he did not have a habit of eavesdropping, but he got himself held back when his brother commented on (Y/N)’s painting.

"I declare that's rather good." Benedict said making (Y/N) huff.

“We both know that good is not enough, Ben.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Anthony could understand what his brother was talking about. The painting was a rendition of the scene unfolding before them—their siblings playing around while their mothers watched over them. It was rather good, indeed.

"It doesn’t matter, there's no place for me to do art."

Benedict frowned. "That's quite the statement to make at twenty. If you don't think you're good enough you have plenty of time to try some more, do better." He pauses, poking her. "You say that to me all the time."

"Then perhaps inform the academy.” She says, sarcasm dripping in every word. “Although two of the founding members are women, we are still not allowed to enter the classroom. It doesn't matter how much money we do or do not have."

"At least not while clothed." He comments, making (Y/N) throw the rag she was holding at him, which Benedict swiftly catches, changing the subject. "Well, now that you’ve given up all your artistic hopes, what are you going to do with your life?”

“Polish up my other talents and be an ornament to society.”

It was as if Anthony was seeing his sister speak.

“You sound like Eloise.” Benedict took the words out of Anthony’s mouth.

“Maybe she has been rubbing up on me.” (Y/N) smiled.

“You are searching for a husband, then?” Benedict asks, helping her pack her things.

“Yes.” She replies sheepishly.

“That's where Mr Scott comes in, I suppose.”

Anthony had noticed how Mr Scott had taken an interest in (Y/N), he never thought she felt the same.

Benedict continued. “You’ll accept him if he comes down properly on one knee?”

“Most likely, yes.” She said, pausing to look ahead for a moment. “He’s rich, respectable.”

When Benedict stifles a laugh, she lightly slaps his arm and Anthony has to fight back a smile. “Don’t make fun.” (Y/N) reprimands him.

"I’m not, I’m not, I promise.” He pauses. “It does sound odd coming from you.”

"I've always known that I would marry rich. Why should I be ashamed of that?"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you love him." Benedict answers in a more serious tone.

Once upon a time Anthony would have easily seen himself at his brother's place, talking about love, but not anymore.

"Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn't something that just happens to a person." (Y/N) says, closing the trunk with her paints, pencils and brushes inside.

"I think the poets might disagree." Benedict offers softly.

"Well, I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman.” She reminds him. “And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him not me. They would be his property. So don't stand there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me."

For the first time since he stopped to hear the conversation, hiding himself between the curtains, Anthony felt like he had overstepped a boundary, so he made quick work of fleeing the scene, her words echoing inside his head.

Anthony remembers Benedict joking about how him and (Y/N) would make a good match. He listens as his brother tells him about the conversation he had with her and Anthony feigns ignorance to the subject, despite having heard the entire interaction. Benedict’s voice turns into white noise in the background as Anthony is transported back to a conversation he had with Daphne last season.

At the time he didn’t understand his sister’s words—perhaps, he never would. Daphne and (Y/N) shared the same struggles, but his sister had been set in marrying for love, (Y/N), on the other hand, had already resigned herself about having to marry for convenience.

It was then that Anthony recognized that the both of them were, indeed, a good match. (Y/N) was beautiful, well mannered, educated and very good at charming people. She came from a not very rich but respectable family. Anthony knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the season, despite his fame as a rake. It wouldn’t be a sacrifice to marry (Y/N), which made making the decision so much easier.

Anthony visited her the next day, explaining his proposal to her.

“You listened to us?” She blinked a couple of times, trying to digest the information.

“Yes,” he confessed, “and I’m terribly sorry for it, but we have to recognize that this might have been for the best.”

He observed as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, a little frown on her face. She was beautiful this way. Even more than when she was charming half of the ton in the many social events he had seen her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, my lord, why marry now?”

Anthony sighed. “My mom has been forcing my hand since Daphne married. Even before that, if I’m being honest. It’s time to find a good wife, settle down, and fulfill my duties.”

“Don’t take my question as an offense, but why me?”

She seemed unable to quite grasp his words. Anthony wondered if she still hoped, deep down, to marry for love and that her conversation with his brother had been only a fickle attempt to protect herself.

“You’re intelligent, (Y/N),” He kneeled in front of her. “You are beautiful and your family is respectable. If you are serious about your words to my brother, we both want the same thing from such a union.” He paused. “Would it be so bad to be married to me?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and Anthony caught himself observing the action with a little more intent than he should.

“No, my lord, I believe it wouldn’t,” she said.

“Then why not make the best we can from a predicament we can’t escape?”

She averted his gaze, looking out to the balcony where her maid was sitting and reading a book, while watching over them.

Anthony took the opportunity to look at her—hair carefully brushed and pinned up, the way the light contrasted with her silhouette, making it easier to see her nose, her lips, the  curve of her neck…

“If I were to accept your proposition, would you be committed to this relationship?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I know that for our society standards maybe that’s too much to ask, but if I can’t be loved I’d wish to at least be respected.” She looked straight into his eyes and then Anthony understood what she was asking of him.

“You have my word that once we are engaged the only woman in my life will be you.”

Anthony asked her father for permission to court her in the same day, then he got properly down on one knee a second time to ask for her hand in marriage, the two of them married within months. Benedict had been shocked by the whole ordeal, but all he cared about was seeing his brother and his friend at least a little bit happy.

The process of knowing each other had been smooth, a lot easier than what Anthony first anticipated. (Y/N) took her duties as the lady of the house seriously, making a point of listening to Violet quite often. His siblings seemed to adore her even more than they liked him, and although inexperienced, as he knew she was, (Y/N) had proved herself to be a good lover. For all of those reasons, Anthony thought that keeping his promise wouldn’t be such an impossible task.

Then he discovered that Sienna had never left town and Anthony, who always prided himself in being a man of his word, proved himself to be as bad as the rest of the men he was surrounded by.

He fell back into the sheets with Sienna, and not long after that his relationship with (Y/N) became purely a show. At first, Anthony thought his wife was oblivious to his escapades, but he had clearly underestimated (Y/N)’s intelligence.

They never shared a bedroom, but there was no disguising how his visits to her chambers happened less and less, as there was no denying the gossip of the house staff that could only lead her to his broken promises.

Anthony expected a fight, things being thrown at him, screams and hits, but they never came, and that was somewhat worse.

One night when he got home after meeting Sienna, (Y/N) was sitting in the dressing room between their chambers, knitting. She lifted her eyes from her work to bid him good night. It didn’t go unnoticed to him how her smile fell from her face as she took in his disheveled state. Anthony felt ashamed for the first time in years.

(Y/N) didn’t give him time to explain himself for being so late—maybe it was for the best because he honestly didn’t know if he could find a suitable excuse for that—she just got up, leaving her unfinished work resting in the loveseat, and marched to her room.

Anthony sighed, throwing his coat away carelessly. The force knocked out (Y/N)’s knitting to the ground and Anthony groaned before bending down to take it. He furrowed his brow when he recognized the pattern—an onesie.

Maybe Daphne was pregnant again? She would’ve told him, right? Simon would, for sure. Then it hit him. Holding the unfinished piece between his fingers, Anthony realized that that was the reason why (Y/N) had stayed awake waiting for him until that hour—she was pregnant and wanted to tell him the news. Instead of the happiness she must have expected, she only received the sight of an unfaithful husband and a broken marriage.

(Y/N) never mentioned it to him and Anthony pretended as if he didn’t know, waiting for her to make the first move, tell him at her own time. (Y/N) never said it though, but he couldn’t ignore the knowledge, and the more time he passed observing her, the more evident it became to him that his wife was, in fact, expecting their first child.

In no time she distanced herself from him and all came to the point of no return in the night where she had gone through the loss of their child alone while he was rolling in the sheets with Sienna.

Anthony tried to reach out to her, succeeding only one time, a week after that fateful night, but in the following weeks, there hadn’t been much talking between them. (Y/N) would barely answer his greetings or the occasional question he threw her way trying to start a conversation. They had a few events to attend and these were the only occasions where she would grant him more than a couple of words. Anthony knew that that was all pretend for the sake of their reputation.

She refused every attempt he made to apologize or explain himself—not that there was much to explain. He couldn’t blame her, even if he wanted her forgiveness. It was her right to hate him and not want him around after he broke his promise to her.

They had never talked about it. Not until today.

(Y/N) was holding Augie, smiling down at the baby that smiled back at her, barely blinking with a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“This one seems really enchanted by you,” Daphne comments, caressing her son’s little fingers.

“He’s just getting used to me,” (Y/N) answered,  smiling at his sister.

“Well, it’s good training, since I guess you and Anthony will probably have one of your own soon.”

Is as if Anthony’s blood turns to ice. He looks at his wife whose expression turns into shock and then sadness in the blink of an eye. He recognizes the tears pooling in her eyes as she gives the baby back to Daphne and excuses herself, leaving the drawing room too quick not to draw attention.

He hurries back after her. Simon gives him an apologetic look to which Anthony answers with an equally sad smile. It doesn’t take him long to find her, bend down in the windowsill of one of the windows of the library, one hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobbing while the other rested on her belly.

(Y/N) doesn’t hear his approach, but when he touches her as if she was expecting him too. She jumps as far away from him as she can get as if his touch burned her.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t…” she doesn’t finish the sentence but Anthony could hear it loud and clear in his head.

Don’t touch me with the same hands you’ve touched her just a week ago.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Anthony reassures her, raising his hands so she can see them. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too, but I want to help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” she sobs, hands clutching tightly at her dress.

The sight breaks his heart. Anthony wants nothing more than to take her pain away and make it his, even though he is mourning the loss of their child with her. He knew her pain was fairly worse than his, she did not only lose a child but she had been losing her husband too.

“Why, Anthony? Why us? There are so many couples that don’t love each other and still have children, why can’t we?”

Anthony takes a step forward, then two, and then he’s bringing her into his arms, wrapping her tightly against his chest, his chin resting at the top of her head. She struggles against his touch a little, but she’s so worn out that it doesn’t take much for her to relax into him.

(Y/N) fists the lapels of his waistcoat, resting her forehead against his chest, letting herself cry.

“I wanted them so bad, Anthony,” she whispers between sobs, “so bad.”

Me too, he wants to answer. Me too.

They stay in the library, in silence, for a while. When (Y/N) finally stops crying, exhausted, Anthony takes her home without even saying goodbye to his family, sending a maid to let them know his wife was not feeling well.

Their relationship shifts after that day. (Y/N) appears so exhausted by the recent events that slowly, she starts to let her guard down again. Anthony is careful when dealing with her, his wife is fragile and the sadness in her runs so deep that he is always afraid to say or do something that will put her through more pain.

“You don’t have to worry so much, you know.” She says, making him look up from his papers to see her already staring back at him.

“I always worry.”

“I won’t break if we talk about it,” she guarantees. “We have to talk about it.”

Anthony is not sure if she’s talking about their baby or Sienna. Either way it wasn’t exactly a conversation he was eager to have.

“How are you?” He asks before he can contain himself. Anthony wanted to ask that for a while but never found the opportunity.

“Healing,” she answers, “or trying to.”

He nods, nervously picking at his nails.

“When did you discover?” She asks.

“The onesie.” He looks up at her.

“The onesie,” she scoffs.

“You were… waiting for me?” His question is almost inaudible, full of regret and shame, but Anthony knows that she heard him.

“Yes,” she answers, “I was.” There’s a pause, and then the blow to his face. “Obviously you were occupied with more important matters, my lord.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I know about her,” she confesses. “I’ve always known, just didn’t want to acknowledge it and have to face the fact that my husband, the one that promised to respect me, at least, had so quickly forgotten his own word.”

“It’s not your fault.” He tries to explain but it seems like (Y/N) has had enough of silence.

“Oh, I know, my lord. This is entirely your fault.” She paused. “And hers. Not that it will matter for anyone, I’ll be the one to blame, after all.”

Her words cut through him the same way they did the week after her miscarriage: it’s always the woman’s fault. Hers or Sienna’s, it didn’t matter. Anthony would never understand the full extent of the pain it was to be a woman in their society, he would never fully understand how much he put her through and yet, would never be blamed for it.

There’s no answer to her words, no explanation for his behavior or broken promises. All he can do is watch her swallow the tears that were threatening to fall and take a deep breath. Anthony opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“That night,” she says, “the night I… lost our child. You were with her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Anthony felt the need to answer it anyway, his voice low with shame.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she hums.

“If I could go back—”

“The outcome would have been the same.” She says.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there for you.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Anthony always knew that, since the moment he put foot inside their house and heard her screams, but hearing her say it had another weight.

“Are you still seeing her?” She asks, looking at him.

“No, it won’t happen again.”

(Y/N) scoffs. “Forgive me if I have trouble believing in it, my lord.”

“I know I haven’t been a good husband. God, I have been barely a good man since we married, but I promise you, I’ll learn from my mistakes and I’ll do better by you. I’ll be a better man, a better husband, one that you deserve and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get close to deserve you.”

The following days, they start to talk more during meals, and the silence that falls between them when they’re both at the drawing room—Anthony working and (Y/N) reading—is not uncomfortable anymore. Each day that passes makes Anthony believe that they can fall back into the friendship they had right after they married.

He doesn’t see Sienna again. Anthony sends her a letter telling her that they should stop seeing each other because he doesn’t want to hurt his wife anymore. Which is the truth. Every time he thinks about the last time he met Sienna, his wife’s cries of pain and sorrow plague his mind and he just can’t see himself hurting her even more than he already had without even realizing it.

Anthony watches her playing with Gregory and Hyacinth in the garden. His younger siblings are fighting for her attention but she doesn’t seem to mind, going back and forth in between the two of them with ease. Then she looks at him, a huge smile on her face that made him smile too. Her attention was quickly snatched from him to his siblings again and Anthony felt a pang of jealousy in his chest—he didn’t want to share her attention.

In the past few weeks, Anthony discovered that his wife was more than the character of the perfect wife that she played for the ton. She was very much real and very much a woman with desires and ambitions. Everything that happened between then made her more bold, she didn’t take his poor excuses anymore, she talked openly about all sorts of things and Anthony caught himself wanting to listen.

“Hum, did you finally realize that you got a diamond in your hands, then?”

Anthony turned his head to look at Benedict, who had a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

His relationship with Benedict was stranded since his brother discovered about Sienna. Anthony didn’t blame Benedict, he was friend’s with his wife since they were kids. He only had himself to blame for being so foolish.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anthony answered, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t observing their siblings with (Y/N).

“Keep lying to yourself then,” Benedict smirked, turning away to leave.

Anthony called after him. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Benedict sighed. “I’m not the one who has to forgive you. I just expected more from my brother.”

“I know,” he agrees. Benedict makes a move to go out the door, and then comes back, pulling Anthony into a hug.

“Look, I could say a thousand things to you, but nothing will undo what’s done.” Benedict says when they part, a hand resting on Anthony’s shoulder. “Just… learn from your mistakes and do better. You’re my brother and I love you, but trust me when I say that you don't deserve (Y/N). Can you imagine what mother would have done to our father if they ever found themselves in the same situation?”

“They loved each other,” Anthony protested to prevent his mind from wandering.

“You are truly oblivious, brother of mine.” Benedict scoffed.

His brother’s word haunted him for the rest of the day and all the way back to their home. Always perceptive, his change in behavior didn’t go unnoticed by (Y/N).

“What happened,” she asked when they were alone in the dressing room.

Anthony hummed, turning around to look at her and trying not to get distracted by her beauty as she braided her own hair after taking off the jewelry.

“Nothing.”

Her reflection raises a brow at him.

“Do better,” she warns, getting up and walking up to him, face softening as she stands in front of him. “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

He nods, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his face. Anthony’s eyes close.

“Is it about her?”

The question gets him off guard. His eyes open instantly to look at her and he drops (Y/N)’ hand instantly.

“No,” he answers, “no,” he adds firmly, cradling her face in between his hands. “There is no one else in my life but you. There won’t be no one else in my life but you.”

“Anthony…” She breaths, closing her eyes as her delicate hands take hold of his wrists.

He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but refrains. It’s not the time for that. They’re both healing and he doesn’t want to taint whatever it is they’re creating by getting ahead of himself. Instead, Anthony presses his lips to her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Stay with me tonight,” he pleads, not sure where the urge to stay close to her came from. Anthony expects her to put up a fight, but (Y/N) only nods, murmuring an okay, before guiding him to her room.

It’s the first time since that fateful night that the both of them sleep through it, getting up later than usual the other day.

Their first kiss after everything that threatened to push them apart for good, happens so suddenly that none of them expects it.

(Y/N) had received the news that one of her younger sisters was going to marry the man she loves, her happiness made her throw herself at him and before either of them could realize, they were kissing each other.

It was just a chaste peck on the lips at the beginning. When they realized what had just happened they parted, his wife didn’t bother to step away from him to escape his embrace. They just stared at each other, eyes flicking between their eyes and their lips and then she placed a hand at the back of his neck, bringing him close to seal their lips again.

Anthony responded in kind, his hands on her waist, traveling up her back as he tasted her. It was like he was kissing her for the first time. They were discovering each other again, learning what each other felt like.

Desperately, Anthony wanted to discover what the strange feeling at the pit of his stomach was. Since before they married (Y/N) made him feel different, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He pushed it down to the depths of his mind—the last thing he needed was feeling something other than respect and partnership for his wife.

He protested when (Y/N) parted her lips from his and it took him a second to notice Benedict standing at the door, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know that our mother is waiting for (Y/N) downstairs. Something about the charity?”

“Oh,” his wife exclaimed, “I had forgotten about it,” she said, wriggling herself away from his arms, making Anthony growl in frustration.

If she noticed, (Y/N) made a good job at ignoring it. The same couldn’t be said about his brother.

“I figured,” Benedict smirked.

“Not a word,” (Y/N) warned as she passed him by, slapping his arm playfully.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anthony watched as she turned around, stealing one last glance at him before disappearing and taking his breath away with her.

“Huh,” Benedict hummed, “I see.”

Rolling his eyes, Anthony asked, “And what do you see, dear brother?”

“You love her.”

“Nonsense,” he protested, “we’re just good partners.”

“Good partners don’t kiss like that.”

The ride home was silent, but Anthony’s heart fluttered in his chest when (Y/N) searched for his hand. Could Benedict be right? Did he really fall in love with his wife? He frowned while looking out of the window of the carriage and (Y/N) might have noticed it, because she made a move to take her hand away from him. Anthony didn’t let her.

“What’s going on in your mind?”

“Something Benedict said to me.”

“If it is about the kiss, don’t mind him. It won’t happen again.”

Anthony looked at her exasperated.

“I surely hope you’re not serious about that.”

“Anthony…”

“How can I live without your kisses again is unknown to me.”

“You lived quite well without them all your life,” she smiles, shyly.

“But now that I know them, I can’t anymore.”

Painfully slowly, she moves closer, giving him the chance to meet her halfway and bring their lips together again.

It’s like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer day and Anthony can’t seem to get enough of her. They get so distracted that they don’t even realise the carriage has stopped in front of the house until the door is open.

Recomposing themselves, he observes as (Y/N) giggles at the situation and feels his heart flutter at the image.

As they prepare to retire for the night, Anthony stops for a minute before following her into her room—he has been doing that for quite a few nights.

When she notices that he hasn’t entered the bedroom, (Y/N) looks back at him with a frown.

“Anything’s wrong?”

Anthony smiles, “No, nothing’s wrong,” he answers, as she extends her hand for him to take, and they retire for the night.

[star-eyed-angels]

Operation : Save Christmas

When you can't make it home for Christmas, Jihoon wants to cheer you up. But with twelve meddling friends, it might not be so easy.

Angst, Fluff, Light Crack 5.5k

Warnings: It's a little angsty, but mostly fluff. The others bully Jihoon (but when do they not 🤡)

A/N: Day 12 of belated mini-Ficmas.

Today is dedicated to the lovely @reikaryu Surprise! I’m you’re Carat Secret Santa🎄 Firstly I just want to apologize for how long this took, I ended up getting sick right before Christmas so I have been GOING THROUGH IT🥲 But nevertheless, your gift is here and I really hope you like it. 

P.S. I also included an extra little moodboard below the cut to make up for taking so long so I hope you like it❣️

It’s been super fun getting to know you through asks and honestly I just wanna say you’re such a sweet person. Like I know I kinda mentioned through my asks, but you just exude this warmth and caring personality and I hope we can be moots going forward 👀

also the biggest of shoutouts to @96z for hosting the caratblr gift exchange!! I'm sure it wasn't easy, but it's been so much fun so thank you!!❤️

MASTERLIST

Four hours. Four hours, you’ve been stuck in the airport practically going insane waiting for your flight. With Christmas in two days, you'd expect for there to be some delays, but this is nothing but chaos. You grimace as you another announcement plays across the speakers above, informing another group of passengers that their flight has been cancelled. The crowd erupts into loud groans, but you don’t blame them. You’re not the only one who’s been sitting here all morning. You watch as passengers begin to swarm the help desk across the room, no doubt looking for another way home. It’s the fifth cancellation in the past hour, you can only hope yours just remains delayed. It’s been a few months since you’ve been back home, and you’re more than ready to see everyone again. 

Just then, the speakers above you come to life, again announcing another flight cancellation. To your horror, the staff member lists off your flight number. You wait for her to repeat it again, hoping you’ve heard it wrong. Much to your disappointment she confirms the information that matches your boarding pass. 

You quickly make your way up to the help desk near you, panic filling you at the thought of not getting home in time.

“No no no, please I have to get on this flight!” You beg. You give the flight attendant a pleading look, leaning over the desk slightly.

“Sorry ma’am, flights are cancelled due to weather issues,” she says, giving you a polite smile.

“Is there another flight?” you ask immediately. She shakes her head, again offering you a polite smile.

“Everything is getting cancelled, we’re preparing to make more announcements now actually,” she says, gesturing to the boards behind her. You watch as each trip flicks to red in real time.

“Tomorrow?” you ask, hopeful in getting home.

“The weather isn’t looking to clear up before the end of the week. Travel will resume at that time” she says calmly. Before you can get another word in she steps to the side, assisting the other passengers waiting behind you.

You let out a sigh, grabbing your luggage and making your way to the baggage claim. As you wait to collect your luggage you send your family a quick text, letting them know of the situation. They’re understanding as usual, letting you know they’ll see you soon. But something else tugs at you, a feeling you can’t quite place. You brush it to the side for now, deciding to focus on getting back home. 

With a small sigh, you push the front door open, trudging your way into the apartment. One of your roommates, Jihoon, looks up from his place on the couch. He does a double take at the sight of you walking in. 

“What are you doing here?,” he asks. He walks over to you, confusion clear in his voice.

“Wasn’t your flight supposed to leave like two hours ago?,” he asks again, looking for some explanation.

“Flight got cancelled because of the weather,” you say, dropping your bag next to your suitcase. It hits the floor with a thud. 

“What about tomorrow? I’m sure you can rebook it?” he says, sounding as hopeful as you did earlier. 

“No, the storm has everything shut down,” you say. You kick off your shoes, a little too aggressively, nudging them off to the side without much thought.

“Oh..I’m sorry, that sucks,” Jihoon says, frowning slightly. 

“It’s fine. It’s not that big a deal,” you shrug, waving your hand dismissively. He makes a face at your response.

“Yeah, but I know you were really looking forward to going home.,” he says, his voice gentle.

“It’s okay, it’s just one holiday,” you say. Jihoon doesn’t miss the way your voice sounds slightly hollow. You give him another smile that doesn't reach your eyes, before shuffling past him.

“I’m just going to rest, long day at the airport,” you say before shuffling towards your room. 

Jihoon nods, watching you closely. He awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. Before he gets the courage to say another word you’re already shutting the door to your room. He stands there for a moment, part of him wants to follow you and comfort you. He’s never been good with words, but he can clearly see this is bugging you more than you’re letting on. He decides to let it go for the time being, he figures he’ll bring it up with the others later. Just then his phone pings from his pocket, he fishes it out seeing the roommate chat active. Speak of those devils.

Jihoon is working at his desk when his phone starts blowing up. The sound of his text notifications eventually gets too annoying to ignore any longer. With an annoyed sigh he opens his phone to dozens of messages and a new group chat.

You’ve been doom scrolling through social media watching your family's posts for the past few hours. A hollow feeling gnaws at you while you scroll through post post. You pause on a video of your family's annual Christmas party. The sound of the laughter and cheer leaving a weird aftertaste on your tongue. You’re glad they’re having fun while you’re not there. But being on the other side of the screen feels strange. You can’t explain what you’re feeling without being there. Before you can dwell on it too much a knock sounds at your door. 

It takes you a second to pull yourself out of your thoughts. A second knock sounds at your door, this one just a little more urgent than the first.  

“Come in,” you call out, sitting up in your bed. 

Jihoon opens the door, shuffling into the room cautiously. 

“Hey Hoon, what’s up?” you ask. You do your best to seem casual despite your earlier turmoil. You’re so caught up in your own dilemma that you don’t catch how odd he’s acting. He rubs the back of his neck nervously, avoiding eye contact with you. 

“Do you want to go out for a walk? To go see the lights?” he asks. His voice comes out in a rush, the words blending together. It takes you a second to register what he said.

“What? Jihoon you literally hate going out,” you say. You can’t help but laugh at the suggestion. 

“No I don't,” he argues, quickly. You give him a pointed look, knowing full well that he isn’t convinced himself. He huffs, finally rolling his eyes in surrender.

“Okay maybe I do, but it's christmas eve, we should go out for a bit at least,” he says, coming over to sit on your bed. You 

“Jihoon, I appreciate the offer, really I do. But I’m really just not up to it,” you do your best to let him down gently. You’re not really in the mood to go out and about, more so wanting to wallow in your doom-scrolling cocoon once more.

“Please? Just this once?,” he begs. You make a face, ready to reject again. Before the words come out, he rushes towards your bed, flopping onto it dramatically. He places both hands together in a praying motion, silently pleading with you. You can’t help but crack a smile, the action far cuter than Jihoon’s normal character. 

“I really want to see the lights,” he begs again. 

You ponder for a moment, glancing down at Jihoon flopped over next to you. Seeing him beg so strongly has you caving faster than you’d like to admit. The image mirrors something you are usually doing to him when you beg for him to join you. 

It's pretty uncommon to see Jihoon go out on his days off, he isn’t typically one to go out in general. He's the world’s biggest homebody, so you’re very used to being greeted by the sight of him lazing around. But it’s an even rarer sight to see him request to go out, especially during the busy holiday season. The only exception he has is when it comes to you.

While he’s not one to go out, he's let you drag him out more times than you can count. Even when he scowls at your pleading, he’s always willing to accompany you on your late night snack runs, or mundane errands.

“Fine, let me just get dressed and we can go,” you say, already getting up to get ready. 

Jihoon hops up with a smile, and a discreet sigh of relief, already heading out of your room.

“Let me know, when you’re ready,” he calls out, already shutting the door behind himself before you can reply. Again you don’t question his behavior, chalking it up to him being in an extra festive mood today. Even if you’re not in the festive mood, you suppose you can indulge him just like he normally does for you.  

You hate to admit it, but you’re actually glad Jihoon decided to drag you out. Despite the heavy snow, the fresh air feels nice against your skin, helping you relax as you both stroll side by side. With the sun just having set, the lights strung up around the river look beautiful. The area isn’t too busy, which you’re sure Jihoon is thankful for as well. 

Jihoon glances at you out of the corner of his eye, glad to see you smiling like normal. He nudges you subtly, drawing your attention to him. 

“See it wasn’t so bad right?” he asks, clearly pleased at his idea. 

“I guess you do have good ideas every once in a while,” you tease, nudging him back.

“Once in a while?” he yelps, face falling in shock. You laugh at his dramatics, shaking your head. 

“I’m kidding. This is actually really nice, thanks Hoon,” you say, voice soft as you smile at him. 

He only nods, turning away to check his phone for an incoming text from the others letting them know everything is almost ready.. He’s thankful for the distraction, allowing him to hide the flaming of his cheeks. 

You continue to take in your surroundings, loving the way the lights gleam against the water of the river. You’ve always loved the way the city is decorated this time of year. It reminds you of your sister, and how the both of you love seeing everyone decorate back home, it being something you look forward to during the holiday season. Just then the sound of laughter catches your attention. You turn towards the sound, seeing a family in the distance laugh as they take pictures, enjoying their time together. 

Your face falls at the sight, a wave of sadness washing over you. You watch as the family continues on their way, still laughing and smiling as they leave. Your mind drifts to your social media scrolling from earlier and just how happy your family looked. How you wished you could be with them right now. The sadness only grows, your mood dropping instantly. The cold air now nipping at your skin harshly, with the change in your mood. Even the sight of the lights no longer feels comforting, instead only making your heart feel heavier. 

“We should start heading back,” you say quickly. The sudden request startles Jihoon, he turns to look at you in confusion. 

“So soon?” he asks, clearly confused at the complete 180. 

“Yeah I’m getting kind of tired, you say, lying through your teeth. You do your best to keep your voice steady, not wanting him to worry. 

He notices the small shift in your facial expressions, how your lips are downturned in a subtle frown. It’s clear as day to him that something is wrong, he’s just unsure of what caused it. 

“Okay,” he agrees. While he wants to argue that you should stay out a little longer He really has no room to argue to stay out longer, at least not without looking suspicious. He hopes that the members finish before you get there. And that whatever they’re prepared is enough to bring a smile to your face once again. 

The closer you get to the apartment, the more he’s starting to think this was a bad idea. He’s spent the past thirty minutes trying to hold a conversation with you, only to have you shut him down with quick responses. He has half a mind to text the group chat to call off the entire thing, but you’re already reaching the floor of your apartment after a silent elevator ride. You pull out your keys quickly, wanting to hurry back into the safety of your room. You’d done your best to remain composed the entire way home, hoping to just make it back in one piece. You know Jihoon can tell something is wrong, but at this moment you’re about hair’s width from breaking down. 

“Listen y/n, about tonight-” Jihoon starts, voice laced with nerves. 

“It was really nice, Jihoon, thanks for inviting me,” you cut him off. Your voice clipped at each word as you begin to unlock the door.

“Right, but-” he starts, doing his best to stall you. He’s sure the others can hear the sound of your keys jingling, alerting them to your arrival. To Jihoon, the sound is like a ticking time bomb, counting down to disaster in the apartment.

With the unsteady state you’re in you don’t take the hint, only focusing on opening the door as quickly as possible. 

“I’m sorry to have cut the night short. I’m just not feeling well so I’m just gonna head to bed,” you say, quickly. He doesn’t even get a chance to interject before the sound of the door clicking beats him. You breathe a small sigh of relief as Jihoon silently holds his breath.

You don’t even make it three feet into the apartment when the light flicks on, startling you. 

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices rings out.

Your heart drops at the sight of everyone in front of you. The apartment is now completely decorated in lights and random Christmas decorations. There’s a table lined with so much food and drinks that they nearly spill over the edges. Each of your friends is dressed up in a tacky Christmas outfit that normally would make you giggle at the sight. They all wear bright smiles as they stand around your living room awaiting your reaction. Your eyes dart around the room quickly, trying to make sense of the situation when a familiar scent fills your nostrils. You turn your attention back to the food table, your eyes landing on the incriminating item. In the middle of the table sits, a Christmas tree shaped plate, with a stack of cookies that you recognize all too well. The scent of the cookies your dad makes with you every year has tears springing to your eyes faster than you can blink. You let out a choked sob, no longer able to keep your emotions in check. You tear your gaze away from the cookies, and look back at your friends who all look on in horror. Without a word, you turn back around, running out the door. Jihoon tries to call after you, but you don’t bother even looking back, needing to get as far away as possible. 

You find yourself back by the river, this time having taken refuge on an empty bench near the open water. Your phone continues to go off in your pocket, the buzzing sound faintly being heard over your sniffles. In the back of your mind you know that it was wrong to up and leave without a single word, knowing that they’re worried about your well being with the state you left in. But you know they can’t help you right now, at least not the way you need them too. There’s only one person who can ease your mind. Normally you wouldn't think about bothering him with the time difference between you, but with the way your heart aches you don’t think you can bear not talking to him.. You pull out your phone quietly, unlocking it with a quick swipe. You continue to ignore the incoming messages in favor of selecting one contact. You wait quietly through the ringing, letting out a sigh of relief at the cheery hello that fills your ears. 

“Hi dad,” you greet, voice coming out in a wobble.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he asks, immediately picking up on your distress. Curse him and his dad senses. 

“Nothing,” you say a little too quickly.

“Y/n. I can tell when you’ve been crying. Now what’s going on,” he asks gently. You can practically picture the way he looks with his brow furrowed in worry. 

Your dad’s gentle voice makes you sniffle. You let out a sigh, your emotions still bubbling over the surface. 

“Everything,” you choke out, once again near tears. 

“I miss you. I miss everyone.. I want to be back home, and be with the family. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without you guys. I know it sounds silly. But this is the first time I’m not at home and I feel guilty,” you say, the words spilling out as you finally let out what you’ve been feeling the past two days. Your dad listens patiently through your ramble, waiting until you’ve said everything on your mind before he continues. 

“Sweetie,” he starts, voice calm, “you know we’re not upset, right?”

“I know, but I just feel like it's my fault?” you confess, swiping at the tears that manage to trickle their way down your cheeks.

“Why would it be? Last time I checked, my daughter didn’t control the weather, unless you’ve been keeping something from me all this time?” he jokes, lightheartedly. 

The dad joke makes you huff, a small smile twitching at your lips. 

“Dad,” you groan, pretending to be annoyed. Even then, the smile is evident in your voice. He chuckles, the sound comforting you through the crackling phone speaker. 

“But really. When you told your mother and I you were moving abroad we knew it meant the possibility of seeing you less. Even on holidays,” he says, his voice reminding you of all the times he comforted you when you were little, “You’re growing up, you’re pursuing something you love. Something bigger. And with that comes changes. Things aren’t always going to go exactly how you want them to and that's okay. What matters is that you make the most of it,” he says. You take a moment to let his words sink in. It was a big leap of faith for you when you moved to Seoul, but at the time it felt like a step in the right direction. And you had been right, the move was the best thing you could have done for yourself. You’d had so many opportunities and met your amazing friends through them. And you wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything. It dawns on you that you haven't taken the time to process everything, with the large workload of your job you haven't given yourself the chance to adapt to all the changes taking place. Now thinking back, you realize just how much you needed this call to see everything clearly. 

“When did you get so wise?” you joke, letting out the last of your sniffles. 

“When I became a dad,” he responds with ease.You giggle finally feeling lighter. 

“Holidays don’t have to be about being somewhere familiar. It’s about who you spend it with. Like those friends of yours we’re always hearing about. Spending Christmas with them is sure to be a memory you’ll cherish when you’re old and gray,” he chuckles again. You grimace when you think back to your friends, and how you left them. 

“I may have ruined that,” you say, sheepishly.

“How so?” he asks. 

“They were trying to do something nice and I didn’t react well,” you recall. He hums in thought. 

“You can’t change how you react in the moment, but you can control how you respond to it now. Talk to them, be honest. They’ll understand. Good friends always do,” he says confidently. You hear the way he pauses like he wants to say more, a habit of his you’re far too familiar with. 

“You know that friend of yours called us for our cookie recipe,” he says, casually. 

“What?” you ask, your brain coming to a halt. You hadn’t mentioned the cookies at all, and how they prompted the call in the first place. You’d just assumed it was a coincidence they had been included. He hums again, before continuing. 

“That boy, Jihoon. He called your mother to ask for the recipe. Said they wanted to do something nice for you since you couldn’t come home,” he reveals. 

Your heart flutters a bit, cheeks warming at the thought of Jihoon calling your parents for something so small, yet so special. A new feeling swirls in your stomach, a feeling you realize  you may haven’t been taking into account throughout knowing your roommate. 

“Those friends of yours are something special, y/n. Not everyone would do something like that. 

Hold onto them,” he says. You shouldn’t be surprised he can read your cues even through a phone, but it still makes you a little shy. There will be more time to think about Jihoon’s gesture later, for now you have something else to do. 

“Yeah, I think I will,” you finally say, already standing up from your place on the bench. 

“I take it you have something to do?,” he says, you can hear the way he smiles through the phone.

“Yes, I gotta go. But I love you, and I’ll call soon, promise,” you say, feeling a little bittersweet about ending the call. 

“Of course. Merry Christmas y/n, we love you,” he says softly. You smile, his simple phrase filling your heart. 

“Merry Christmas, bye Dad,” You hang up, slipping the phone back into your coat pocket. You take another deep breath, finally feeling like your world isn’t going to crumble around you. In fact it feels like another new beginning, another leap of faith you’re more than happy to take. With that you turn around, making your way back to your apartment. 

When you make it back to your apartment, you find yourself lingering outside the door quietly, nervous to face your friends. You take a few deep breaths, before unlocking the door slowly. You open the door cautiously, your friends are all luckily still in the apartment. They watch you enter, hesitating to approach you. When you close the door behind you, Jihhon is the first to speak up.

“Y/n, we’re so sorry. We didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just you’ve been looking forward to Christmas for so long, and then the flight and we just,” he says, tapering off as you finally look up at all of them. He glances behind him, looking for help from the others. 

“We just wanted to do something special for you to hopefully cheer you up,” Soonyoung says, words slurring slightly. He gets teary eyed quickly, face scrunching up as he sniffles. It's then that you notice the cup in his hand, no doubt containing some form of alcohol. Soonyoung had always been a rather emotional drunk. Mingyu steps forward, collecting Soonyoung in his arms, and pulling him off to the side. You see some of the others grimace. Seungcheol even facepalms, breathing out a heavy sigh. Seungkwan clears his throat, stepping closer to you, the bells hanging on his sweater jingle with the movement.

“We took it too far and we’re sorry,” Seungkwan says, bowing his head slightly. 

You take in the scene before you, your friends and the chaos that they bring. To anyone else this party would appear like a disaster, with tears and awkwardness bursting at its seams. But to you, it's like home. Not like the home you grew up in, but a home that was made from chance meetings, and random hangouts. A home that now consisted of random nights getting to know your roommates, too many inside jokes to count. This is your other home that you love dearly, and the people in front of you are what make it your home.

You step forward, pulling Jihoon into a hug. He freezes, startled by the sudden action before wrapping his arms around you tightly. You hug him tighter, pressing your face into the side of his neck. 

“Y/n?” he calls out your name quietly, not wanting to startle you. You pull back from the hug, resting your hand on his arm. 

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just,” you let out a shaky breath, offering a small smile, “I’m homesick. And I hadn’t realized just how bad it had gotten”. 

You turn your attention to the others, who all give you small smiles in return.

“I got into my own head after the flight thing. And then we went to go see the lights and I just couldn’t stop thinking about home. When we got here I wasn’t in the best state, so when I smelled the cookies I just broke,” you explain.

“We wanted to make this like home for you,” Seokmin pipes up. You smile again, your dad’s words coming to mind. 

“I know and I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do anything extra to make this like home. Just having all of you here is enough,” you say, glancing back at Jihoon as you speak. He smiles back at you, making your heart flutter again. The quiet is broken by the sound of sniffling. You turn to see Soonyoung sniffle against Mingyu’s chest. 

“We need a group hug or I’ll cry right now,” he chokes out, pouting at everyone. You laugh, opening up your arms for him. He darts towards you, practically toppling over Jihoon in the process. He hugs you tightly, sniffling into your shoulder. The others erupt into quiet laughter, but still join the hug. It feels cozy being squished between all your friends, at the center surrounded by so many people who you love. You can’t help but voice it out loud.

“Thank you, I love you guys,” you say. They each murmur back their own replies, 

“Not that I’m not loving this sweet and tender moment, but can I please turn on the music? I spent all day working on the playlist,” Vernon says, from somewhere in the cuddle pile. A smack rings through the room as he yelps in pain. No doubt having gotten smacked by one of the older members. A few giggles slip out of you, detaching yourself from the hug. You motion Vernon over to the speakers, he grins as he darts over connecting his phone right away. When the music fills the room, everyone disperses excitedly dragging you to everything they’ve prepared.  

It’s an hour later when you find Jihoon standing quietly near the door. He watches the festivities with a small smile on his face. You shuffle up to him, 

“Hey,”

“Hey, you okay?” he asks,

“Yeah, I’m good. Really,” you say softly.

“About tonight-” 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,”

“I know you put a lot of effort into making it special for me 

“Everyone helped, it wasn’t just me,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. In a bold move, you catch his hand in yours. He looks down in shock, before glancing back up at you. 

“I know, But not everyone would call my family to ask for my favorite cookie recipe,” you say, giving him a knowing look. He looks away, turning shy under your gaze. 

“I thought it would be nice to have a little piece of home for you,” he says quietly, still not meeting your eyes. You think he looks rather cute this way, all shy and timid in front of you. You intertwine your fingers with his, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Thank you, Jihoon,” you say softly. You lean over, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. He stares at you wide eyed, a blush blooming across his cheeks and down to his neck. You hear a wolf whistle from across the room. The both of you looking up just as Joshua throws you both a wink. The others all give you knowing looks, some of the maknaes throwing a series of hearts your way. Your smile grows as you watch Jihoon throw each of them a death glare. They all finally look away, though you still find them stealing glances at the two of you. Jihoon turns his attention back to you, finding you staring at him with a soft smile. 

“They’re never gonna let us live this down,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb against your hand softly. Despite how words, he never once lets go of your hand, only holding it just a bit tighter. You hum, squeezing his hand in yours once more. 

“Yeah… We have some meddling friends, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say. You already know the teasing will be relentless from the others, but what’s a few more memories to cherish with your little family? 

Divider: @/mikeykuns (bow) @/cyberbeat (line)

[dedexo]

Time Skip Kenma x Fem! Reader

One Shot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is Bouncing Ball Corp.'s 5th anniversary. To celebrate the company is throwing a huge fancy party and people from partnering companies are attending. Kenma isn't a fan of parties but must attend as the CEO. He told himself that he would just go, say a few words, talk to a few of his business partners, and then dip. You were supposed to be by his side the whole time but unfortunately, you were at your parents' house for the weekend and won't arrive home until a little after the party started. You told him that he should just go and you'd meet him at the party. He reluctantly agreed and went on his way.

You were kinda excited to go to this party even if it's just for a little while. You haven't dressed up in a while so this was the perfect opportunity to wear that new dress you bought. It was a silky red sleeveless dress that hugged your shape perfectly and showed a little bit of cleavage. You couldn't wait to see Kenma’s reaction so you hurriedly put on your dress, threw on a pair of ear heels, earrings, and a neckless that Kenma got for your birthday.

When you arrived at the venue the first thing you did was scout out your boyfriend. You looked around for a couple of minutes when you bumped into Kuroo.

“Woah there watch where you going…” He said with a slight smile on his face. “Looking for something?”

“Yeah I'm looking for Kenma, have you seen him anywhere?” you asked impatiently.

“Ohh yeahhh about that….” He pointed towards Kenma.

He was talking to a lady, or more like that lady was trying to talk to him. It was obvious that she was trying to flirt with him. Your blood boiled at the thought.

Kenma prefers to keep the relationship private so not many people know that he's taken, only his close friends and family. Because of this when you guys go to events like this you try to limit physical contact so as not to raise suspicions.

You decided to ignore the anger rising in you and wait until the conversation was finished before approaching him. That was until the lady started getting handsy with Kenma. Touching his arms and slightly rubbing him up and down. Kenma was obviously uncomfortable with this but before he could do anything he felt someone rub his back.

“Heyyy sweetie..” You pull him in by the neck for a hug and kissed him on the cheek, making sure that the lady in front of him could see. “Sorry I'm late, traffic was crazy, who’s this?” You ask in a slightly disgusted tone.

Kenma was shocked because of what you did, slightly turned on because of how good you looked in that dress, and relieved that you're here now. “This is just my colleague.” he said with a flat tone. “Please excuse me.” He said to his colleague as he grabbed your arm and pulled you away.

“Hey where are we going!” He’s walking fast and you're trying to match his pace as he pulls you.

“Home.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not really, its time people found out about us anyway. I'm tired of people trying to flirt with me.”

“Wait so this isn't the first time?!”

“Uhhh don't worry about that, let's just go home. I rather be in bed with you than here.”

_________________________________________

Bonus

Kuroo: Where the hell did they go???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is my first time writing a fic, hope it's not too bad

[silverwhittlingknife]

can we have a hint about what the spring break tim patrol chapter of red letter day contains? (you kept having dick say "if the joker shows up" and tim's "he won't." for me to be convinced that goes off without any trouble)

i'm sure it'll be fine. :D

i am delighted you're enjoying the story <333 i haven't updated it in soooo long but i got some very sweet comments lately so i have been looking at my scribbles again <3

[unproduciblesmackdown]

(genderly) chill as hell if i was only ever glimpsed / detected like this

[todayisafridaynight]

That one post about Daigo aging and me being like “congratulations you’ve aged like… a day.” His parents must have had Sayain genes or something.

i was about to bully you and be like 'what post' but as it turns out i'm a big ass clown cause i know exactly what post you're talking about

[maskedbyghost]

when simon wakes up in a hospital, the last thing you expect is for him to grab your hand, pull you close, and say, “hey, there you are, love.” his voice is so soft, so sure, it leaves you speechless. you stare at him, half in shock, because this is ghost—simon riley, the one person who’s kept every feeling locked up.

“simon, do you… do you remember anything?” you ask, testing the waters.

he blinks, looking at you with confidence. “of course, i remember. you’re my wife.”

you freeze. his wife? this is new, and you’re not sure where he got the idea, but before you can correct him, johnny walks in, taking one look at the two of you and biting back a grin. he leans in, whispering to you, “maybe just… go with it for now, eh?” he’s got that teasing glint in his eye, and something tells you there’s no harm in humoring simon for a bit, if it can be helpful for his recovery.

so, you go along with it. and to your surprise, simon doesn’t act confused—in fact, he’s more open with you than he’s ever been. suddenly, he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, always looking for you, keeping you close, calling you “love” or “darlin’” in front of everyone. he’s even got that soft smile every time you catch his eye, one that makes it hard to remember this isn’t real.

the team’s amused but supportive, playing along with the whole story. simon keeps asking you little things, like what your favorite meal is, or how you usually spend your days when he’s away, as if filling in gaps in a life he believes you share. you find yourself answering with things that feel so genuine, and the way he listens—focused, attentive—feels more intimate than anything you’ve shared before.

one day, you’re patching up a minor scrape on his hand, and he just watches you, eyes soft, like he’s memorizing every detail. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. it’s so genuine, so open, that for a second, you forget it’s all just part of his memory loss.

then, one night, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, eyes serious. “do you ever think about us?” he asks softly, like he’s trying to get at something just out of reach. “how we’d be if things were… different?”

you’re not sure how to answer because there’s no script for this. “sometimes,” you admit, feeling a pang of something deep and unspoken. and for the first time, you’re almost grateful he can’t remember—because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only reason he’s letting himself be this vulnerable with you.

as the days pass, you start catching little glimpses, small things that make you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. he catches you watching him once, and instead of asking why, he just gives you this little smile, one that feels like he’s in on the secret. and just when you’re starting to think this is all some kind of twisted dream, he pulls you aside.

“i know i’m supposed to remember,” he whispers, “but i don’t want this to end. not yet.”

it’s in that moment you realize the truth. he’s been aware all along—he’s been pretending just as much as you, holding on to this fragile, temporary illusion because, maybe, he needs it just as much as you do.

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

hii!! i'm backkk!! send some requests plsss, byee <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[astrxealis]

i am so used to my pinned post i kinda don't want to change the format but i want to