#just as long as love was still there. present and unwavering.

[takatul]

Twisted Wonderland self-aware!Yuu except they’re empathic.

When I say self-aware!Yuu I don’t mean a scenario where Yuu transmigrated into Twisted Wonderland with memories intact.

When I say self-aware!Yuu I mean someone who knows themselves better than anyone else.

They know they have flaws. They know that, sometimes, their flaws will get in the way. Whether it’s shutting down emotionally, not being able to express themselves properly, or something to do with a physical ability. Their flaws will always follow them around. Even in Twisted Wonderland.

And yet, self-aware!Yuu is still kind. Still loving all of their strengths and flaws.

Ace needing a place to stay after Riddle off’d-his-head? “Yes, of course you can sleepover.”

Deuce breaking down after letting his delinquent side out? “No, you’re not a bad guy— you just protected me and Grim from those bullies!”

Riddle having a crisis after his overblot? “I don’t accept your apology. Not yet at least. But I can understand why acted this way… you’re allowed to feel angry about your past. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

No matter how wrong the opponent is, self-aware!Yuu always empathizes with them in the end.

Maybe one day, someone confronts them about it. I can see Leona or Azul or Rollo and maybe Jamil. They’re people who have experienced and or seen how terrible people can be.

“Why are you so nice all the time? You’re too thought. Too kind. Good people like you always end up last.”

Perhaps self-aware!Yuu will look at them with a stoic face. Perhaps a shocked expression, accompanied by a frantic gasp. Perhaps even small laugh at their question. And just as the confronting student was about to retort again, self-aware!Yuu will smile.

“Well, I’m not a good person. I just do what I think is right.”

Self-aware!Yuu will sit down, watching activities unfold around them— heart still bursting full of kindness. They’ll pat the empty space beside them. An invitation, but it’s up to the student to take the initiative.

“It’s everyone’s first time living after all. May as well make it kind.”

Soon enough, if the student plucks their courage, they’ll sit and slowly learn how to become self-aware too.

banner credit: @bunnysrph

[emily--prentiss]

I LOVE YOU, ALWAYS FOREVER

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

cw: mentions of pregnancy/childbirth, no use of Y/N, just pure fluff and love

a/n: I’ve caught the writing bug again! after so long not writing anything, I now can’t seem to stop. anyway, please enjoy this short fic of aaron just being absolutely smitten with his girls <3

word count: 1.2k

You hadn’t thought it was possible to love him more.

From the moment he’d first asked you on a date - uncharacteristically timid, stumbling over his words, so unlike the fearless leader you’d come to idolise and respect since joining the team all those years ago - he’d treated you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky yourself.

He wasn’t overly affectionate in public, but you didn’t mind. You were well aware that he had an image to uphold. When you were alone, however, he showered you with affection. It was overwhelming at first, and you’d felt undeserving, not used to being in a relationship with someone that adored you, that loved you completely, that respected you all the more. But as time wore on, you’d become accustomed to these little romantic gestures that, even now, had your cheeks tinting a light pink, butterflies forming in your stomach, and a smile that you tried (and failed) to suppress tugging at your lips.

On the nights where you were apart, back when you were still living in your own apartment, he formed small, affectionate habits. He’d send a text to check you were home safe, following a date or a long day at the office. He’d have flowers delivered regularly, bright bouquets waiting on your doorstep when you returned home from a gruelling case, always accompanied by the sweetest, handwritten note (you had a shoebox full of them tucked away in your closet, a physical reminder of his love for you). He’d call you as you settled into bed, his voice gentle over the phone as he was wished you sweet dreams, told you how much he missed you, how he couldn’t wait to see you again.

When you moved in with him, just a few short months before he proposed, his gestures changed in tandem with your relationship. If he had to be at the office early, you’d wake to a note left atop his pillow, hastily written messages of love and adoration ensuring a beautiful start to your day. After a particularly difficult case, he’d usher you into the bathroom the moment you got home. He’d run you a bath, help you ease into the water, and disappear into the kitchen to cook you one of your favourite meals while you allowed the hot water and bubbles to melt away your troubles.

On your wedding day, he’d allowed himself to be less reserved. The moment he saw you, as you began your descent down the aisle, he was consumed by emotions, his beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears. He’d leaned into you as you took his hand, matching smiles on your faces, and whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you just how beautiful he thought you’d looked. He seemed unable to resist touching you after that initial contact. At any given moment, his hand was pressed to the small of your back, or his fingers were intertwined with your own, or his lips were pressing tender kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. Though he kept reminding you of his love for you throughout the day, whispering it into your skin, you could feel it through those small gestures, too.

He held you close to him as you danced together for the first time as man and wife. His eyes were on you the entire time as the pair of you moved effortlessly around the dance floor, surrounded by your loved ones, his ever present smile unwavering. During his speech, you’d cried tears of happiness, so overwhelmed by the life he’d given you, the joy he made you feel every day.

He loved you wholly, and you didn’t think you could love him more.

That was, until the first time you saw him hold your daughter.

It had been gruelling, the birth. Long. Tiring. Aaron had been by your side constantly. He held your hand, wiped the sweat from your brow, and told you over and over how proud he was of you.

And the smile that had consumed him, all teeth and dimples as your daughter had come kicking and screaming into the world, left you breathless.

He was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on her. Had waited for your subtle nod of assent before he left your side to be with her while the nurses weighed her and cleaned her up, unable to take his eyes off of her for a moment. When she was placed in your arms for the first time, he’d wrapped his arms around the two of you as a choked noise left you, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. And although you weren’t alone in the room, midwife and nurses alike still floating around, it felt as though the world had shrunk to just the three of you - husband, wife, child.

He whispered against your cheek how perfect, how beautiful she was. Just like her mother. You’d scoffed then, partly because you’d always been unable to accept a compliment, mostly because you were certain you were anything but beautiful in that moment. Your hair most definitely resembled a birds nest, your lips were chapped and dry, and the sweat had dried uncomfortable onto your skin. But as you’d looked up at him and found his gaze settled on you for the briefest of moments before he’d leant forward to press a gentle, loving kiss to your lips, you thought perhaps he’d truly meant it.

Aaron didn’t hold the baby - Ivy, you’d settled on fairly quickly - until the three of you were finally alone. Though he’d refused to stray far, he knew how important those initial moments of bonding were between you and your tiny speck of a baby, so had refrained for as long as possible. But after a while, you’d looked over at where he stood towered over your bed, eyes roving over the baby as if trying to memorise every tiny detail of her little body. When you’d finally caught his eye, you’d tilted your head in a silent invitation that he join the two of you on the bed, a small laugh bubbling out of you at how quickly he shuffled in beside you. The baby was transferred into his awaiting arms, and as you curled yourself into his side as best as you could, you felt your breath catch in your throat at the sight of them.

Ivy, who was already a little small for her age, appeared even more so as she nestled into her father’s chest. The palm of one of his hands encompassed her back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her through the blanket she was wrapped up in. The baby had grizzled as she’d been moved from her mother’s arms to her father’s. But as Aaron whispered into her ear how much he already loved her - something he’d done to you countless times over the years - she settled, as if she knew she was safe. Protected by the first man to ever love her.

And as the three of you rested in comfortable silence, you felt it again.

That love for him, a love that already felt all encompassing, growing even more.

[natsaffection]

heyyy so i have this idea and i think no one can write it like you so yeah.

forced marriage between Natasha and reader in the present time. they both don't like each other because of this situation yk but with time they come around each other.

i know this is a really classic one but I've been thinking about this for a long time and sending a request to you seemed like a good idea considering your beautiful writing. but of course it's okay if you don't want to write it! hope you're having a good day!!! (or night idk😭😭) 💗

I see you. | N.R

Warnings: Forced Marriage for a Mission, a lot of arguments, Drinking, mentioned of sex while beeing drunk (both)

Word count: 6,7k

A/n: I hope it makes sense. I thought for a long time about how best to implement this scenario and found this solution to be the most plausible..(The beginning takes place before the invasion of Loki)

Natasha sat stiffly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, fixed on the man sitting across from her. Nick leaned back in his chair, his one good eye studying her with an intensity that matched her own. “So, what’s this about, Fury?” Natasha’s voice was as cold as the steel walls surrounding them in the underground briefing room of the Avengers headquarters. She had been urgently summoned, pulled out of a mission briefing that had been weeks in the making, and the weight of this interruption hung heavy in the air.

Fury exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the sleek metal table. The silence stretched just long enough that Natasha’s patience nearly snapped. “It’s about alliances.” he finally said, his tone measured, as if he was still deciding how much to reveal. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had our alliances sorted out. Stark has the tech, Banner is working on the gamma projects, and I’m ready to handle the intel with Rogers. What’s missing?”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped together as if preparing for what he was about to say. “What’s missing is political stability. The kind that can’t be bought with technology or power. We need trust, and that’s in short supply these days.”

“Trust?” Natasha scoffed. “From whom? What aren’t you telling me?” He met her gaze, unwavering. “There’s a situation with Y/n.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. The name struck a nerve. You were no stranger in her world. Known for your diplomatic skills and sharp intellect, you were a key figure in international negotiations, often brokering deals that kept the world from chaos. You weren’t just a diplomat, you were a force, wielding influence in ways even Natasha respected. But that didn’t explain why you were the subject of this mysterious meeting.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Natasha asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion. Fury’s next words fell like a hammer. “You’re going to marry her.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. Natasha stared at Fury, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right, Romanoff." Fury replied, his tone unyielding. “This marriage is the only way to secure the alliance we need. Your influence can grant us access to certain..resources and information that we desperately need. This goes beyond SHIELD, it’s about global security.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you think a forced marriage is magically going to solve all these problems?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy.” Fury admitted. “But this isn’t about love or personal happiness. It’s about necessity. We need a visible, undeniable alliance, something that other nations and organizations can see and recognize as a commitment. A marriage between you and Y/L/N would achieve that.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She was a soldier, a spy, a warrior..she had never allowed anyone to dictate the terms of her life, let alone something as personal as marriage. The very idea was repugnant to her, and yet..Fury’s expression told her this wasn’t just an idea, it was an order. The stakes were high, as they always were in her line of work, but this felt different. This felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to this?” Natasha asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t ready to show more emotion than necessary. “She’s already agreed.” Fury said, and Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “She understands how important this alliance is. She’s as reluctant as you are, but she knows what’s at stake.”

Natasha let that sink in for a moment. She didn’t know you well, but she knew of you, respected you even. You were someone who didn’t back down easily, who saw through lies and acted on your convictions. If you had agreed, then the situation was worse than Natasha had thought.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Fury’s expression hardened. “You won’t refuse. You’re too smart for that, Natasha. You know what’s at stake. You’ve always done what was necessary.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be tied down by something as archaic as marriage, especially not to someone she barely knew. But Fury was right. She had always done what was necessary, no matter the cost. And this, it seemed, was just another mission, one that would require all her skills to navigate.

“Fine..” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play the happy housewife.” Fury almost smiled, but it was a cold, thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she left the cold, sterile briefing room. Fury’s words echoed in her ears, a reminder that her life was no longer entirely her own. As she walked through the corridors of the SHIELD headquarters, her footsteps echoed ominously, each step bringing her closer to a fate she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Fury again:

Meeting with Y/N in conference room in five minutes. Be there.

No time to think, no time to prepare. Typical. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading to the designated room. Natasha arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. The room was empty, the lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the table. It felt oddly impersonal, a stark contrast to the gravity of what was about to be discussed. She stood by the window, staring out at the headquarters’ grounds, trying to gather her thoughts.

The door opened behind her, and Natasha turned as you entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored suit, exuding the same sovereign confidence that had made you a respected figure in the diplomatic world. But there was something else in your eyes. A hint of irritation, maybe even anger. Clearly, you weren’t any happier about this situation than she was.

“Natasha.” you greeted her with a curt nod, your voice cool and distant. “Y/n.” Natasha replied just as coolly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing as she studied the person in front of her. “So, I guess we’re getting married.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Looks that way. Not that either of us had a choice.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? If you and your people hadn’t been so secretive, we might not be in this mess.” Your face hardened, a flicker of anger crossing your features. “Oh, please. Don’t act like SHIELD is any better. You’re all about secrets and manipulation. This marriage is just another one of your little games.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed further. “You think I want this? To be tied to someone I barely know, just to fulfill a political agenda? Don’t kid yourself.”

“Kid myself?” You scoffed and took a step closer, your voice rising. “Do you think it’s any easier for me? Being forced to marry the Black Widow, of all people? I know your reputation, Natasha. You’re a manipulator, a killer. This is the last thing I wanted.” Natasha’s jaw clenched, her anger boiling up. “And what about you? You’re no saint either, Y/n. You’ve played your games, made your deals behind closed doors, pulled strings to get what you want. Don’t pretend you’re any better.”

Anger flashed in your eyes. “At least I don’t hide behind a mask of false righteousness. I do what needs to be done for the greater good, just like you. But don’t mistake necessity for desire. I have no interest in playing house with someone who doesn’t even know what trust means.”

Natasha felt a sharp sting of anger mixed with something else, something she didn’t want to name. “Trust? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve built your career on deception. And now you expect me to believe you’re the victim here?” You stepped closer, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what you believe. We’re both victims of this situation, but if you think I’m just going to roll over for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Natasha’s anger flared again, her voice turning icy. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to make you happy. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We’ll play the part when necessary, but other than that, stay out of my way.”

For a moment, they stood facing each other, only inches apart, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Natasha turned away, breaking the tense silence. She moved to the table and sat down, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s talk logistics. The sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can get it over with.”

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure, and sat down across from her. “Agreed. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s secure, and there’s enough space for both of us without stepping on each other’s toes. We can start moving your things tomorrow.” Your eyes narrowed. “Brooklyn? How convenient for you. Always need to have the home-field advantage, don’t you?”

Natasha offered a crooked smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m practical. It’s close to headquarters, and it’s safe. Unless you have a better suggestion?” Your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the obedient spouse. I need my space, my own office, my own schedule.”

“Fine.” Natasha responded sharply. “I don’t want you around me all the time anyway. We’ll do what’s necessary to make this look real, public appearances, a few shared events, then back to our own lives.” You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “And what about the media? They’re going to follow us everywhere, looking for any crack in the facade.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll handle it. Stick to the script, and we won’t have any problems. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” You remained unconvinced. “You’re acting like this is so simple. But we both know there’s nothing simple about this.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “We don’t have a choice, Y/n. We do this because we have to, not because we want to.” Your jaw clenched, your voice turning icy. “Believe me, Natasha, the last thing I want is for this to work. But I’ll do what needs to be done. Just don’t expect anything more from me.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your mutual dislike hanging heavy in the air. This was going to be a nightmare..

In this silent moment, an agent came in with a pile of paper stuff. He sensed the tension immediately and just put it on the table and quickly left the room.

Thebtable was now filled with details on how your upcoming marriage would be presented to the world. It was an intricately crafted plan, covering everything from the official story of how you met to the timeline of your relationship and your behavior in public. Every detail had been meticulously planned by SHIELD’s PR team to ensure that the marriage appeared genuine.

You flipped through the pages with a grim expression, your fingers gripping the edges of the paper as if you wanted to tear them apart. “This is ridiculous..” you muttered, not bothering to hide your frustration. “They expect us to memorize a script? Like we’re actors playing a part?”

Natasha, sitting across from you, “That’s exactly what we are.” she said coolly. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember? We’re playing a role for the public.”

You shot her a sharp look. “I’m well aware. But this..” you gestured contemptuously at the file “is insulting. ‘Shared interest in global politics and mutual respect for each other’s abilities’? Really?” You read the lines aloud, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re acting like we’re two diplomats who fell in love over a discussion on trade agreements.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you prefer they invent a fairy tale romance? At least this version is believable. It’s not like we have a real story to fall back on.”

You slammed the file shut with a loud bang that echoed in the small room. “We wouldn’t need to make anything up if we weren’t being forced into this situation.” Natasha’s jaw tightened. “No one’s forcing you to stay. If you have a better solution, by all means, let me know.”

You sighed in frustration, rubbing your temples. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t one! Fury made sure of that.” Natasha watched you silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Then we make the best of it. We memorize the script, play the show, and get it over with.”

You looked up at her, your eyes flashing with anger. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? Playing different roles, lying to people’s faces. But this..this isn’t just another mission, Natasha. This is our lives.”

Natasha's eyes hardened at the accusation. "You think I don't know that? You think I enjoy being paraded around like a puppet? I've spent my entire life fighting for control over my own decisions, and now I'm being told who I have to marry. So don't act like you're the only one angry about this." Your lips pressed into a thin line, your anger momentarily softened by a flicker of understanding. "Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you angrier?"

Natasha exhaled slowly, working to keep her emotions in check. "Because anger won't change anything. We're stuck in this, whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it." You stared at her for a long moment, your expression softening just a little. "So we learn the script, smile for the cameras, and pretend we don’t hate each other?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Yes, we pretend we don't hate each other. But we have to make it believable. People will be watching us closely, if they sense something is off, the whole show falls apart. That means we need to know each other, at least enough to sell the act."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident on your face. "And how do you suggest we do that? Some getting-to-know-you games? Maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie’?" Natasha gave a humorless smile. "We start with the basics. We go through the script and fill in the gaps with real information. What's your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What’s your biggest pet peeve? Things that couples know about each other."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Fine. But don't expect me to share my deepest secrets."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She opened the file again and flipped to a page titled *Personal Details*. "It says here that you enjoy hiking and reading. Is that accurate, or did they make it up?" You rolled your eyes. "It's true. I like hiking when I have the time, and I read a lot, mostly history and politics, but they don't need to know that in detail."

Natasha nodded, making a mental note. "Good. We can work with that. Mine says I'm into physical fitness and strategy games." She paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything else we should add?" You looked at her thoughtfully before replying. "You like ballet, right? I read that somewhere." Natasha blinked, surprised by this observation. "Yes, that's true. Not many people know that."

"Well, it’s part of who you are.." you said, your tone less confrontational now. "We could use that." Natasha nodded, slightly impressed by this small concession. "Good. We'll add it to the list." You continued to go through the script, exchanging brief, factual information about yourselves, preferences, dislikes and childhood memories that could be used to support your fake story. But every answer was tinged with tension, each of you holding something back, building walls around yourselves.

After nearly an hour of discussion, you closed the file with a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck. "This is going to be a disaster." Natasha leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not if we're careful. We stick to the plan, stay on script, and give them no reason to doubt us."

You met her gaze, your expression weary but determined. "I just don't know how long we can keep this up. People will expect us to act like we actually care."

"We don't have to care." Natasha said, her voice cold and distant. "We just have to pretend we do." You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "And what happens if we slip up? If one of us says something off-script? We can't be perfect all the time."

"We won't slip up." Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're both professionals. We've been in situations far more stressful than this. We'll manage." You stared at her for a moment, searching her face for a crack in her ironclad facade. "You really believe that, don't you? That we can just fake our way through this lie without any consequences?"

Natasha's gaze remained unchanged, unyielding. "I believe we don't have a choice." The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your situation pressing down on both of you. This wasn't just about memorizing lines or putting on a good show, it was about maintaining a facade that could crumble at any moment, exposing you both to public scrutiny and potential danger. Finally, you stood up, your movements stiff with unresolved tension. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" Natasha stood as well, her posture mirroring yours. "Yes. We will."

The days passed in a blurred whirl of public appearances, each one a carefully staged performance that only deepened the rift between you and Natasha. Every event, every gesture, every word was meticulously planned, yet the underlying tension between you was impossible to ignore. The first major event you attended as a married couple was a high-profile gala, the kind of glittering affair where the rich and powerful gathered under chandeliers to sip champagne and discuss global affairs. Natasha had attended similar events countless times before, but never under these circumstances.

You wore an elegant black evening gown that accentuated your every movement, while Natasha was dressed in a sharp suit. As you walked into the ballroom, her hand rested lightly on your back, a gesture meant to appear familiar, but to you, it felt like a shackle. "Ready to charm the masses?" she murmured with a sarcastic edge as you entered the room.

The night was a marathon of forced smiles and carefully calculated interactions. You moved through the crowd like seasoned professionals, your hand never leaving Natasha's back as you met with diplomats and high society, maintaining the facade of a loving couple. But beneath the surface, Natasha could feel your simmering anger, mirroring her own. At one point in the evening, as you were cornered by a particularly nosy journalist, Natasha's patience was put to the test. The journalist smiled broadly and inquisitively as she fired off questions about your supposed whirlwind romance.

"How did you two meet?" the journalist asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Natasha suppressed an eye roll, but her voice remained smooth and warm as she responded. "We met at a diplomatic conference. We were both there on separate missions, but we kept running into each other. Things developed from there."

You seamlessly picked up the conversation, though your smile was a bit too stiff. "It didn’t take long for us to realize how much we had in common. After that, everything just fell into place naturally." The journalist seemed satisfied with the answer but continued to probe. "And when did you know it was love?"

You hesitated, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered. "It wasn't just one moment. It was a lot of little things that made us realize we couldn’t imagine our lives without each other." Natasha forced herself to smile at you, her fingers lightly brushing your arm in a gesture meant to appear affectionate. "Yes, it was all those little moments that made it clear."

As the journalist moved on, Natasha could feel the tension in your posture, your hand pressing a little more firmly against her back, as if you were reminding her of your shared discomfort. "That was close.." you muttered as you both retreated to a quieter corner of the room. "We handled it." Natasha replied curtly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what we do."

The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way, the two of you moving through the room, presenting the perfect image of a loving couple. But every touch, every smile, every word was carefully calculated, and by the time you finally left the gala, Natasha felt as if she were about to snap from the strain.

The ride back to your shared apartment was suffocatingly silent. The driver, a SHIELD agent, wisely kept his eyes on the road, leaving you both to your thoughts. When you arrived 'home', you immediately went to the kitchen to pour yourself a stiff drink. Natasha followed you, already on edge, her patience worn thin by the constant charade.

You turned to her, your expression hard. "You're really good at this, you know that? At pretending. It’s almost like it’s second nature to you." Natasha tensed as she heard the accusation in your words. "I had to be good at it. It's my job."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Your job. Right. I guess that's what happens when you're trained to be a spy from childhood. You learn to play whatever role is required." The words hit a sore spot, and Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near growl. "Don't I? You’ve spent your whole life being prepared for this, haven’t you? To lie, to manipulate, to make people believe whatever you want them to. This whole marriage..this whole act..probably means nothing to you."

Natasha felt her anger flare, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy lying about every aspect of my life, pretending to be someone I’m not?" You didn’t back down, your eyes burning with frustration. "But you're damn good at it, aren’t you? Must be all those years in that room. They made you the perfect little actress."

That was the breaking point for Natasha. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward and closed the distance between you. "You have no idea what the Red Room did to me. What it took from me. So don’t you dare try to twist that into some kind of compliment!" You stood your ground, your own anger flaring in response. "I’m not giving you a compliment, Natasha. I’m saying it’s terrifying how easily you slip into these roles. How convincing you are at pretending to care."

Natasha's breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I want to be convincing, huh? You think I want to be good at this? I’ve spent my entire life fighting to break free of what the Red Room made me, and now I’m stuck in another damn role..and it’s with you."

Your jaw tightened, your anger now tinged with something that looked like guilt. "Maybe it’s not just a role for you. Maybe you don’t even know who you are when you’re not on a mission." The words cut deep, and for a moment, Natasha didn’t know how to respond. But the anger was too strong, too raw to let go. "You don’t know anything about me. Nothing about what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive."

You both stood there, staring each other down, the air between you crackling with fury and unspoken pain. Natasha's chest heaved with the force of her emotions, her mind a whirlwind of anger and hurt that she could barely keep in check. You set your glass down with a sharp clink, your face tight with suppressed frustration. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. But it sure as hell feels like you’re more comfortable in this lie than I am."

Natasha turned away, her hands trembling with the effort to contain her rage. "Go to bed, Y/n." You didn’t respond, simply turning on your heel and leaving the room, your footsteps echoing through the apartment. Natasha waited until she heard the door to your shared bedroom close before she finally let out a shaky breath. She was too good at pretending, far too good. And that was the problem. Because despite all her skills, all the years of training and missions, this felt different. It felt personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and your words had struck a nerve deep within her.

As Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen through her facade in a way no one else ever had. The truth was, this marriage, this charade, was wearing her down in ways she hadn’t expected. And the more time she spent around you, the harder it became to maintain the mask she had worn for so long. She wanted to dismiss your words as just another argument, another clash of wills between two people who were forced into a situation neither wanted. But the truth was, you had hit on something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned off the lights and headed to bed, her mind still racing. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever this was between the two of you, it was far from over.

The days that followed were intense, with both Natasha and you deeply immersed in your respective missions. Despite the tension between you, you had found a certain rhythm, maintaining your cover as a married couple while focusing on the tasks at hand. Your partnership was more functional than personal, efficient, strategic, and devoid of unnecessary emotional entanglements.

But that all changed when Loki appeared.

When chaos erupted in New York, the two of you were thrown right into the conflict, working side by side with the newly formed Avengers. The stakes were higher than ever, and there was no room for mistakes. You fought shoulder to shoulder, defeating Chitauri soldiers and securing key positions as you tried to save the city from destruction.

It was during one of those intense moments, after Natasha's confrontation with Loki, that everything changed. Loki had made it a point to bring up Natasha's past, the "red" in her ledger, the sins she had committed, the people she had hurt. He taunted her with names and events that Natasha had long tried to forget, using her guilt as a weapon to break her. The words were meant to destroy her, to make her doubt her worth, and they hit harder than any physical blow. But Natasha, the eternal professional, pressed on, using her pain as fuel to outmaneuver Loki and secure the information they needed. But the damage was done. The conversation with Loki had revealed more about Natasha’s past than she ever wanted anyone, especially you, to know.

After the battle, when the Avengers had won and the immediate threat had passed, Natasha returned to the SHIELD Helicarrier. The city was still in chaos, but the focus had shifted to recovery and rebuilding. Natasha was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the weight of Loki's words hanging over her like a dark cloud.

You had always had a keen sense for people, always quick to pick up on the smallest changes in mood or behavior. It was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. But now that sharp intuition was focused on Natasha, and it made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

After debriefing with Fury, Natasha retreated to the quiet of your shared apartment, hoping to find a moment of peace. She had barely sat down on the edge of the bed when she heard the door open behind her.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, cautious, as you entered the room. Natasha didn’t turn around, but she could feel your probing gaze on her.

“What is it, Y/n?” Natasha’s tone was curt. She was too tired for this conversation, too drained to face another confrontation. You hesitated, the silence between you stretched out. “I..wanted to talk to you.” Natasha closed her eyes, bracing herself for another argument. “About what?”

“About Loki.” you said, your voice carefully measured. "We need to talk about what he said." Natasha’s muscles tensed, her back straightening as she tried to suppress the rising wave of fear in her chest. “I’m fine, Y/n. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s the point, Natasha.” you continued, taking a few steps closer. “I am worried. I know I’ve pushed you before, teased you about your past, but I didn’t..I didn’t realize it was something so serious.” Natasha’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “I’ve already told you, my past is none of your concern.”

“But it is, Natasha!” Your voice was firmer now, the frustration evident. “We’re supposed to be partners, and I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Natasha finally turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she stood. “You don’t know me, Y/n. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, and I don’t need your pity.”

Your expression hardened, but there was a flicker of pain in your eyes. “This isn’t about pity, and you know it. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Natasha snapped, her voice rising. “That I’ve done things I’m not proud of? That my past is full of blood and darkness you can’t even imagine?” You flinched at the sharpness in her voice, but you didn’t back down. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m trying to apologize, Natasha. For pushing you, for not realizing.”

Natasha stared at you, her anger battling with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. “Why? So you can feel better? So you can feel like you’ve done the right thing?” Your eyes flashed with frustration. “No, damn it! I’m doing this because I care about you. Because, despite everything, I don’t want to keep fighting against you! Its draining..”

For a moment, you stood facing each other, the air between you charged with tension. Natasha felt her defenses beginning to crumble, the walls she had built around herself starting to give way under the weight of your words. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her. “You want to know the truth?"

Natasha sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees as if she needed to hold herself together. “The Red Room..it destroyed me. It took everything I was and made something else out of it. Something that had no choice, no control.” You sat down beside her, but you kept your distance, respecting the space she needed. “You didn’t have a choice, Natasha. You were a child.”

“That doesn’t change what I did ” Natasha said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I killed people. Innocent people. And I..I enjoyed it, Y/n. Back then, I enjoyed it because that’s what they made me.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over hers, but you said nothing. You knew this was a moment where words couldn’t do much.

Her voice was soft and laced with pain. “The things I’ve done..the people I’ve hurt..you can’t just brush that aside. The Red Room wasn’t just training, it was torture, it was conditioning, it was turning little girls into weapons. I did terrible things because I was programmed to. Because I didn’t know any better.” She paused, as the memories came flooding back with painful clarity. “And even after I got out, even after I tried to make up for it, the past still haunts me. Loki knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to remind me of the monster I once was.”

You listened in silence, your heart aching at the pain in Natasha’s voice. “You’re not a monster, Natasha.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say. But you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t live it.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve seen who you are now. I’ve seen how hard you fight to do the right thing, how much you sacrifice. That’s not the work of a monster. That’s someone trying to make things right.” Natasha turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t matter what I do, and I can never atone for what I’ve done?”

You took her hands in yours. “You don’t have to do it alone, Natasha. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha looked down at your hands, the warmth of your touch grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. For so long, she had believed that her past was something she had to face alone, that no one could understand the shadow that had shaped her. But in this moment, with you by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. “For pushing you away.” You squeezed her hands gently. “I’m sorry too. For not seeing how much you were hurting.” You sat there for a long moment in silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift, replaced by something new..something fragile, but real. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was trust, and for now, that was enough.

The days after your late-night conversation were different, marked by an unspoken understanding that hadn’t been there before. Natasha and you continued with your missions, and the world was still recovering from the chaos of Loki’s attack, but something between you had shifted. Where there had once been tension and unspoken resentment, there was now a cautious, growing trust.

You moved around each other more easily, your conversations were less strained, your silences less heavy. The sharp edges of your interactions had softened, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that surprised you both. You weren’t friends yet, and certainly not lovers, but you were no longer just colleagues forced into a marriage of convenience. You were partners..genuine partners.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you returned to the Helicarrier and noticed the weariness weighing on Natasha. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually sharp eyes were dulled with fatigue. But there was also something else, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, as if the burden she carried was now a little less heavy. “You look like you could use a break.” you said, your voice light but laced with concern. Natasha glanced at you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “You’re not wrong. This week has been hell.”

“More than usual.” you agreed. “How about we grab a drink? No talk about missions, just..a chance to unwind.” Natasha hesitated for a moment, her instinct to decline warring with the realization that maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

You headed to one of the quieter lounges on the Helicarrier, a small, dimly lit room where off-duty agents could relax. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was private enough to talk without the weight of your roles hanging over you. You ordered a couple of drinks, and the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, through which the vast, dark night could be seen. For a while, you drank in silence, the easy silence between you a far cry from the tense moments of the past.

“You know..” you began after a while, swirling your drink in your glass, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze steady but curious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve just..been thinking about how we’re supposed to be partners in this, but we’ve been so focused on keeping our walls up that we forgot what that really means." you said thoughtfully. “It’s not just about watching each other’s backs in a fight. It’s about being there for each other when things get tough, when the past tries to drag you down.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m not used to that, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I figured..” you said with a small smile. “But you let me in, at least a little. And I want you to know that it meant something. It made me realize that maybe I haven’t been as fair to you as I could have been.” Natasha’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/n. We were both just doing our jobs.”

“I know.” you replied. “But still, I’m sorry. For pushing you, for not seeing how much you’ve been through. I was so caught up in the mission and the cover that I didn’t take the time to really see you.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol ease the tension in her shoulders. “You see me now.” she said quietly. “And that’s more than I’ve let anyone do in a long time.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between you relaxed and open. Natasha realized that it was a relief not to have to be constantly on guard, not to have to keep everyone at a distance. “You know.." you said after a while, your tone lighter, “I’ve been thinking that when all this mess is over, we should take a break. Do something normal. I hear married couples go on vacations.” Natasha chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure we pass as a normal married couple.”

“Who said anything about normal?” you grinned. “We could do something out of the ordinary. Like..I don’t know, skydiving or rock climbing. Something that gets the adrenaline pumping without the life-and-death stakes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you want us to jump out of a plane..for fun?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Why not? After everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to do something that gets the heart racing without our lives depending on it.” Natasha considered it for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, not the practiced one she used in public. “You know what? That actually doesn’t sound so bad.”

You clinked your glasses together, and as the evening wore on, you talked about everything and nothing. Trivial things like favorite foods and music, and deeper topics like your dreams and fears. The walls between you continued to crumble, and by the time you finally returned to your apartment, there was a new understanding between you. “Thank you, Y/n. For tonight.” You smiled back, your voice warm. “Anytime, Natasha. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, the words feeling truer than ever before. “We are.” As you parted ways for the night, Natasha felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the drink or the fact that she had survived another day, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. That for the first time in years, she had someone she could trust.

The following weeks were different. Natasha and you continued to work together, your partnership now stronger as the initial tension had eased. You were still far from being a typical married couple, but the foundation of trust you had begun to build made all the difference. One day, after a particularly successful mission, Fury called you both into his office. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a hint of something, perhaps approval in his gaze.

“You two have done good work.” Fury said, his voice even. “The mission was a success, and your cover held under pressure. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this partnership would work, but you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, and you shared a small, knowing smile. “Thank you, sir.” Natasha replied. Fury nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “That said, I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain the appearance of this marriage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Fury sighed, a rare sign of weariness passing over his face. “The situation has stabilized for now, but I have a feeling more trouble is on the horizon. You two have done your job well, but I’m giving you the option to dissolve the marriage if you think it’s the right move.”

Natasha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, regret? Uncertainty? She looked at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. You met her gaze, your expression thoughtful. “I think..we should talk about it. See where we both stand.”

Natasha nodded slowly, a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” Fury watched you both for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Take your time." With that, he dismissed you, and you left the office in silence, the weight of the decision heavy on your minds.

As you walked through the corridors, Natasha felt a sense of unease rising in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to feel anything at the thought of ending the marriage. But now, the idea left a strange emptiness inside her. “So..” you said quietly as you reached your quarters, “what do you want to do?”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning to face you. “I don’t know." she admitted. “This started as a mission, as a cover. But now..I don’t know.” You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

Natasha hesitated, then reached out and took your hand in hers. “But I know one thing. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose what we’ve built. I don’t want to lose this..partnership.”

You stood there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. Finally, you smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. "I have a good Idea where we can talk further.."

The lounge was quiet, with only the occasional murmur of conversations on the other side of the room. Natasha and you had had a few drinks again, the alcohol warming your bodies and loosening your tongues. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you in a way it hadn’t before. The heaviness of your earlier tensions had lifted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate atmosphere.

Natasha took another sip of her drink, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She looked at you, watching as you swirled the last bit of your whiskey in your glass, your eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. Your words slightly slurred, “I never thought we’d end up here. Not like this.”

Natasha laughed, her own voice tinged with the effects of the alcohol. “Yeah, me neither. This whole thing… was unexpected.” You leaned back in your chair, your gaze fixed on Natasha. “But..I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re talking like this.” Natasha felt a warmth spread through her, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Me too.” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s nice…not feeling alone.”

You smiled, a crooked, slightly drunken smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat as she felt a surge of emotions she wasn’t entirely ready to name. “You’re not alone, Natasha. Not anymore.” There was a charged moment between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of your shared experiences. The alcohol had lowered your defenses, leaving you both more vulnerable and open than you had been in a long time.

Natasha set her glass down, her fingers lightly brushing against yours on the table. The touch was electric, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She looked up and met your gaze, and in your eyes, she saw the same spark of attraction that she felt. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you growing more intense with each passing second. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned across the table, and your lips met Natasha’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she responded to the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both familiar and completely new. The kiss was tentative at first, an exploration of boundaries, but it quickly deepened as the need for each other became overwhelming.

Without breaking the kiss, you stood and pulled Natasha up with you. Your hands found each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, as you made your way out of the lounge and down the corridor to a quarter. Your kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as you neared the room. You fumbled with the keycard, finally managing to open the door, and the two of you tumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. As you finally made it to the bed, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only the two of you, entwined with one another, your kisses hungry, your touches urgent. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only the raw desire for each other.

The night passed in a blur of passionate moments and whispered names, your bodies intertwined as you lost yourselves completely in each other. The connection between you deepened with every touch, every kiss, until there was no distance left between you, no more walls to keep you apart. When you finally fell asleep, your bodies were still entwined, your breaths mingling as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep. The alcohol had done its job, lowering your defenses and bringing you together in a way neither of you had expected.

The first thing Natasha felt as she slowly woke up was the dull pounding in her head. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to block out the morning light seeping through the curtains. But as she moved, she realized something was off, something warm and solid was lying beside her. She froze, her senses suddenly sharp despite the hangover. Slowly, she opened one eye and was immediately met with the sight of you lying next to her, your face turned toward her, still fast asleep.

Natasha’s breath hitched as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The drinks, the laughter, the conversation that had unexpectedly turned personal..and then how you had ended up here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to piece everything together. You had both been drunk, very drunk but that didn’t explain everything. How had you gone from reluctant partners in a forced marriage to this point? What had driven you to cross a line she hadn’t even realized you were approaching?

“shit." Natasha muttered quietly, careful not to disturb you as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets. But as she moved, you stirred beside her, your eyes slowly fluttering open. For a moment, you both simply stared at each other, your expressions mirroring the shock and confusion that Natasha was feeling. “Morning.” you finally said, your voice rough and uncertain.

“Morning.” Natasha echoed, her voice just as hesitant. There was a long, awkward silence as you both tried to process the situation. Natasha could see the same questions in your eyes that were running through her own mind: How had this happened? What did it mean? And where do you go from here?

“I..uh..did we…?” you began, clearly struggling to find the right words. Natasha’s cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. I think we did.”

You rubbed your hand over your face, slowly sitting up as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and alcohol. “Okay, so…how did we end up here?” Natasha bit her lip, trying to recall the details. “We were talking..had a lot to drink. And then..I don’t know. One thing led to another, I guess.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But at least we don’t have to invent any lies if someone asks us about our sex life now.”

You chuckled at her comment, and the tension in the room eased slightly. “True. It’s almost like we’ve fully embraced our roles now. Now that she's finished.” Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess we’re just overachievers.”

The laughter died down, and once again, the reality of your situation set in. Things had gotten personal in a way neither of you had anticipated. “So…what do we do now?” you asked, your tone more serious this time.

Natasha sighed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I don’t know. We could just pretend nothing happened, but… that feels like we’d be lying to ourselves.”

“Yeah, and we’ve done enough pretending to last a lifetime.” you agreed, your expression thoughtful. “But we also can’t ignore the fact that this all started as a mission. A mission where we were supposed to pretend to be in love, even though we didn’t really like each other.” Natasha nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on her. “Right. And now we’ve crossed a line, and I don’t think we can just go back.”

You frowned, deep in thought. “But do we need to go back? I mean, we’ve been through a lot together, and… I don’t know. Maybe this was just..inevitable?” Natasha looked at you, searching your face for any hint of what you were really feeling. “Maybe. But now it’s complicated. We can’t just act like everything is the same as before.”

Your smile, “Hey, at least we’re dedicated to the mission, right?” Natasha laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “Right. We’ve more than fulfilled our duties.”

You both laughed, the tension between you beginning to dissipate. The humor was a relief, a way to ease the confusion and discomfort that came with waking up in each other’s bed after what was supposed to be just another night of playing your roles. But as the laughter faded, the reality of your situation remained. You couldn’t just laugh your way out of this, you had to figure out what it meant for you.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked again, your tone more serious this time. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to organize her thoughts. “We figure it out. No more lies, no more excuses. We take it one step at a time.” You nodded, your expression softening. “I can do that. One step at a time.”

Natasha felt a strange sense of relief at your words. This was new territory for both of you, but at least you didn’t have to navigate it alone. You had each other, and while it was still a complicated mess, it was something you could rely on. As you both got out of bed and began to dress, the weight of your new reality settled over you. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were in it together, and for now, that was enough.

“Hey, Natasha?” you said as you pulled your shirt over your head. “Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, your expression thoughtful. “I know this isn’t what either of us expected, but..I’m glad we’re here." Natasha smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Me too, Y/n. Me too.”

As you left the room and stepped back into the world, you did so with a new understanding of each other. You had started as reluctant partners, forced together by a mission, but now…now there was something more. Something worth exploring, even if it was still messy and confusing. The mission had brought you together, but it was your shared experiences and growing bond that would keep you together. And as you walked side by side, ready to face whatever came next, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something new.

[sunny44]

Anxiety

Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!reader

Warning: panic attack, anxiety, English is not my first language and maybe more…

Summary: Lando has a panic attack because of the pressure of racing at home and Y/n helps him to calm down and show him that he’s good enough.

On the eve of the British Grand Prix, Lando was struggling with the pressure.

I stood outside Lando’s hotel room, my heart heavy with concern. The British Grand Prix always brought a special kind of pressure for him, performing in front of his home crowd, and I knew this race was weighing heavily on him. The door was slightly open since I was outside making a call, and I pushed it open gently, my eyes immediately finding Lando sitting by the window, a shadow of his usual self.

His eyes were distant, his body tense. I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands gripped the armrests of the chair. Lando was lost in his thoughts, drowning in a sea of self-doubt and anxiety.

"Lando," I called softly, hoping to anchor him back to the present. There was no response. I moved closer, my concern growing with every step. When I reached him, I knelt down and placed a hand on his arm. He flinched, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

"Lando, it's me." I said, my voice steady but filled with worry. "Talk to me."

He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Instead, a choked sob escaped his lips, and he buried his face in his hands. My heart ached for him. I had seen him face many challenges, but nothing pained me more than seeing him in this state.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. His body trembled against mine, and I could feel his ragged breaths on my neck. "It's okay," I whispered, my hand gently stroking his hair. "I'm here, Lando. You're not alone."

For what felt like an eternity, we stayed like that. I could feel the intensity of his anxiety attack, the way his muscles were taut with stress, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. I held him tighter, whispering soothing words, trying to ease the storm raging inside him.

Gradually, his breathing began to slow, and the tension in his body started to ebb away. I pulled back slightly, cupping his face in my hands. "Look at me, Lando," I said softly. His eyes met mine, and I saw the pain and fear that had consumed him.

"You are an incredible driver, but more importantly, you are an incredible person." I said, my voice firm and filled with love. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. I love you for who you are, not for what you achieve on the track."

He shook his head, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "But what if I fail? What if I'm not good enough?"

"You are more than enough," I replied, my tone unwavering. "Success isn't measured just by wins or podiums. It's about passion, dedication, and being true to yourself. You've already achieved so much, and I'm so proud of you. But even if you never win another race, I'll still love you just as much."

My words seemed to pierce through the fog of his anxiety, bringing a clarity that he desperately needed. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight on his chest start to lift. "Thank you, babe." he whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out." I replied with a smile, kissing his forehead. "We'll face everything together, one step at a time."

“Okay.” He smiled a bit and I kissed him.

“I’ll grab you some water.” As I was getting up, Lando hugged me tighter.

“Can we just stay like this a little bit more?” His voice was low.

“We can stay like this as long as you want.” He didn’t said anything but just by the way he started to play with my fingers I knew that he needed more time like this.

We stayed there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the world outside the hotel room fading into irrelevance. The tension that had gripped Lando slowly gave way to a fragile calm. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my own.

Eventually, I felt him relax, the tightness in his muscles easing. I knew he was finding his center again, the overwhelming pressure starting to dissipate. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, a comforting motion that I knew helped him relax.

"Lando," I whispered softly, "I believe in you. Not just as a driver, but as the amazing person you are. Tomorrow, when you get on that track, remember that it's not about proving anything to anyone. It's about doing what you love and enjoying every moment of it."

He nodded slowly, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "You're right. I need to focus on the joy of racing, not just the results."

"Exactly," I said, smiling. "And no matter what happens, I'll be here, cheering you on, proud of you every step of the way."

He sighed, a sound of release and acceptance. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he repeated, his voice steadier now.

"You'll never have to find out," I replied, a playful glint in my eyes. "Besides, I still need to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't get into too much trouble."

He chuckled, the sound a welcome relief from the earlier tension. "I'll try to behave," he said, a hint of his usual mischief returning.

We stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped in each other's presence, finding strength and comfort in our love. Eventually, I pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. "Are you ready to get some rest now?" I asked gently.

He nodded, his expression more at ease. "Yeah, I think I am. Thanks to you."

“How does a bath sound?” I asked him.

“Sounds very good.”

“I’ll prepare one for you and then we can get some rest.”

“Thank you.” He said and I went to the bathroom and prepared the bath.

I helped him get up, guiding him to the bathroom, I helped him get out of his clothes and the he get in the bathtub.

“Is I warm enough?”

“It’s perfect, just like you.” He said and I smiled at him. “Wanna join me?”

“I’ll love to.”

After some time in the tub we got out, got dressed in our pijamas and went straight to bed. He lay down, and I pulled the covers over him, and I laid on the other side and I think for the first time ever he was the little spoon.

“Wow, this is good.” He said getting cozier.

“What is good?”

“Being the little spoon.”

“I’ve told you many times but you never believed me.”

“Yeah, but usually I’m the one that protects you and not the other way around.” He said with his voice very low.

“I know baby, but sometimes you need to be the one that should be protected.” He didn’t said anything. “I'll stay awake until you fall asleep."

Lando reached out, taking my hand in his.

"I don't deserve you." he said softly.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world." I replied firmly. "And I'm here to give you just that."

He smiled, a genuine smile this time, and closed his eyes. I stayed behind him, holding his hand, watching as his breathing evened out and he drifted off to sleep.

As I stay there, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride and love for him. Lando was an extraordinary person, and I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, stronger than ever.

When I was sure he was asleep, I quietly moved and turned off the lights, leaving a small night light on. I kissed his forehead one last time. I held his hand and closed my eyes to get some sleep before the next day.

Tomorrow would be a new day, a new race, but tonight was about love and support, and in that, we had already won.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Luv u baby” tagged: @landonorris

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗨𝗡

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where the sun inside Matt fell in love with the moon inside Y/N; OR, 4 moments between sunshine Matt and grumpy Y/N.

WARNING: Mentions of blood and pain.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N has always been known for her serious expression and sarcastic humor. She had a cynical view of the world and seemed to find fault with almost everything around her. On the other hand, Matt was the complete opposite. His smile was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, brightening up any room with his contagious positivity. It was as if he was determined to find the good in everything, no matter how dark it was.

The two were in the same class together at Boston high school, part of the same group of friends, which meant they did a lot of group work together, and it was precisely there where their contrasting personalities often collided. Y/N was meticulous and perfectionist in her work, while Matt preferred to approach topics with a more relaxed and laid-back attitude. This often put them at odds, but it also created an interesting dynamic.

One afternoon, during a school work meeting at the triplets' house, Y/N was particularly grumpy. She had faced a series of setbacks in her home and was on the verge of exploding. Matt, as always, tried to cheer her up with his light humor and unwavering optimism.

"You should relax a little." Matt murmured with a smile as his right hand worked quickly with his computer mouse, putting together the perfect slide for the presentation that would take place the next day, using Nick and Alahna's notes and research. "Not everything has to be so serious all the time."

Y/N rolled her eyes from her spot on the edge of Matt's bed, pushing the notebook that rested on her thighs roughly, feeling frustrated with his persistent attempt to lift her spirits. She knew he was just trying to help, but at that moment, all she wanted was some peace and quiet.

However, something inside her changed when she lifted her gaze to Matt's smiling face, who was still holding the mouse as he watched her from the corner of his eye. In that moment, the girl saw beyond the surface, beyond the facade of constant happiness. She saw the genuine kindness in his eyes, the compassion in his smile. And for the first time, something inside her crumbled, breaking the wall that had held firm for so many years.

A small smile began to form on Y/N's lips, almost imperceptible, but still present. It was a smile that lit up her entire face in a way never seen before and made her eyes shine with an inner light that had long been dormant.

Matt was surprised to see Y/N smiling, abandoning his task instantly and turning his face completely towards her, trying to make sure he was actually seeing that. It was as if he had witnessed something sacred, something few were lucky enough to see - maybe only him. The brunette was speechless, simply admiring the sight before him.

"What?" Y/N asked, noticing the look of shock on Matt's face, her smile fading almost automatically, giving way to her usual frown.

"It's just…" Matt began, struggling to find the right words. "It's the first time I've seen you actually smiling. And it's so pretty."

Y/N felt shy by the compliment but also inexplicably happy. She had never realized how her smile could affect someone so deeply, especially someone like Matt, who radiated joy wherever he went.

"You should smile more-"

"Shut up."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The night was calm when Matt returned from his hockey practice, but the mood inside the triplets' house was far from peaceful. He walked through his bedroom door with his shoulders hunched and his face pale, showing the anguish that consumed him inside and out.

Y/N, who was sitting on his bed reading a book while she waited for him - a habit created between them, and which his parents and brothers adored - looked up when hearing the door open. Upon seeing Matt, she immediately noticed something was wrong. Her heart sank while witnessing the boy's low stance.

"Matt? Hey, what happened?" She asked, setting the book aside and quickly standing up from her previous seat, walking towards him with a frown decorating her face.

Matt didn't respond right away. Instead, he broke down when his ears finally heard the voice he had waited for so many hours, tears flowing freely down his face. He was shaking, struggling to control his emotions as the weight of his feelings enveloped him like a dense fog.

"Hey pretty boy, breathe." Y/N ordered, pulling him into an awkward but loving hug. "It's okay. Just breathe."

Matt sniffed, trying to regain control of himself. He took a few deep breaths, following her instructions, before finally finding the voice to speak.

"It was at hockey practice." The brunette began, his voice wavering with crying and raw emotions. "One of the guys on the team... he said some horrible things to me about my performance, and I-" A sob interrupted his speech, his blue eyes closing tightly in an attempt to hold in the ugly sounds.

Y/N slowly pulled away, snaking her right hand from his bicep to his head, cupping his cheek gently, looking at his face for the first time that afternoon, her movements stopping suddenly.

The girl felt a wave of anger bubbling up inside her as she saw her boyfriend's face swollen and stained with blood in strategic spots, clearly having been punched by someone else. She clenched her left fist tightly, causing her fingers to take in a pale hue, her eyes flashing with contained fury as her chest tightened with the anguish she felt emanating from Matt's body.

"Who was it?" Y/N's firm and determined voice echoed through the room like thunder as her right hand gently turned his face from side to side, her hard eyes running over his injured skin. "Who said those things to you? No, even better. Who did this to you? I'll finish him off, I swear."

Matt's eyes widened instantly, surprised by her reaction. He knew Y/N could be tough when needed - all the time - but seeing her so determined to protect him left him speechless.

His cheeks took on a reddish hue, disguised by the blood and redness caused by crying, his lips pressed together in an attempt to contain a smile while his heart accelerated involuntarily, a small wince escaping his throat with the movement of his mouth.

"I'm fine, baby-"

"You're not, and after I'm done with whoever did this to you, he won't be fine either." Y/N interrupted him rudely, raising her eyebrows in an act of confrontation, as if she was confronting him to continue the lie.

"It's okay, sunshine. Just let it go. Please?" Matt's warm tongue escaped his lips, wetting them, while his blue eyes seemed to beg her to forget about the guy and focus on himself.

"Alright." The girl let out a loud, angry sigh, rolling her eyes as she stroked his blood-stained cheek gently. "Come on, let's take care of this."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was busy that night, with lively conversation and laughter echoing off the walls. Y/N was sitting at a table next to Matt and his brothers, trying to enjoy the meal despite the crowd around them. However, her already dark mood was about to deepen even further.

As Y/N cut into her steak with an air of concentration, she noticed a man at the next table out of the corner of her eyes. He looked arrogant, a smug smile playing on his lips as he said horrible things about a girl to his table-mates. But it was when he looked in Y/N's direction that she felt a chill run down her spine.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Y/N felt a wave of discomfort spread through her. She couldn't explain why, but something about that guy made her nervous, his arrogant and sexist comments causing her body to scream, almost begging for her to do something.

Matt noticed the subtle change in Y/N's expression and followed her gaze to the next table, running his blue eyes over the unknown man's figure. He frowned, confused by the sudden intensity of Y/N's gaze, practically feeling her fury emanating from her body.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" Matt asked in an almost imperceptible whisper, leaning towards her and bringing his mouth closer to her ear, keeping his eyes on the table next to them. "Why don't we like him?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by Matt's direct question. She turned her head towards him slowly, frowning and running her eyes over his curious and playful expression, their noses almost touching with their proximity.

"You're so annoying, do you know that?" The girl asked in a cynical tone, raising her right eyebrow as she assessed him with her eyes.

"But you still love me." Matt replied quickly, as if he already had the answer on the tip of his tongue. A smirk grew on his lips as he draped his right arm over the back of the wooden chair his girlfriend sat on, caressing the skin of her exposed shoulder with his fingertips gently.

"Doesn't make you less annoying."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was busy in the kitchen of the large room in her house that she shared with the triplets, preparing a special meal to welcome the boys' parents, Jimmy and Mary Lou, who were about to arrive for a visit in Los Angeles. She was determined to impress them with her cooking skills and make the couple's first day in the bustling city worth it.

While stirring a pan of sauce, Y/N heard footsteps approaching and soon Matt's figure left the small hall that led to their room and entered the kitchen with a beaming smile on his face, his feet taking him closer to his girl almost automatically.

"Hi sunshine, need help?" He asked, stepping forward to grab an apron and approach the stove, his blue eyes darting over all the ingredients laid out as his brain tried to process what she was making.

Y/N looked up at him, her face hardened with concentration as her right hand never stopped moving the spoon.

"No, thank you." The girl responded quickly, shaking her head and returning her gaze to the sauce below her. "I can do this on my own."

Matt frowned, ignoring her answer and rescuing a steak knife from the cutlery drawer, extending his free hand towards the still raw meat, ready to cut it into ideal sizes.

"Matt, I said I can do it myself." Y/N repeated slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, casting a furtive glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"I know you can, petal." The boy murmured softly, putting down the knife and raising his now free hand towards his girl, lightly pressing his warm palm against her still arm, caressing her skin. "But I want to be here with you to help in some way. It doesn't have to be everything or nothing."

Y/N sighed, feeling a little guilty about her own reaction. She didn't want to push Matt away, especially when he was just trying to be caring and helpful.

"Okay... I'm sorry." Her apology escaped in a barely there whisper, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a firm grip.

"What are we having for dinner today?" Chris's loud and excited voice echoed through the living room and kitchen as the boy climbed the stairs that led him from his room, interrupting the moment between the couple, eliciting a laugh from Matt and an eye roll from Y/N.

"None of your business."

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[mintsuwu]

MORE SMILING CRITTERS FAMILY HEADCANONS WAHOO!! I do apologize in advance as this post will be shorter BUT THERE ARE MORE PICTURES!!!

Bubba Bubbaphant

Bubba Bubbaphant comes from a family deeply rooted in love, passion, and a sense of responsibility towards others. His mother was a botanist, brimming with a profound affection for plants, while his father embarked on adventurous explorations as a researcher. Despite their differing pursuits, they formed a tight-knit family unit where love and care flourished.

Sadly, his mother's life was cut short by a debilitating disease that drained her vitality, leaving an indelible mark on Bubba's heart. Witnessing her struggle ignited in him a fervent desire to become a doctor in the future, driven by the aspiration to alleviate suffering and potentially save lives, just as he had hoped to do for his mother.

But even after the profound loss, the relationship with his father remained strong, as the latter balances his adventurous spirit with unwavering dedication to his family. Despite the demands of his work, he cherishes every moment spent with Bubba, recognizing the importance of being present in his son's life. He carves out moments to spend quality time with him, sharing experiences and imparting valuable knowledge gained from his explorations as the young one shares information about the adventures he has with his friends

Mr. Bubbaphant embodies the essence of a true gentleman, extending kindness and assistance to those in need without hesitation. His demeanor and wisdom reflected the refinement and kindness instilled in his son, earning him a reputation as an absolute gentleman.

Their familial circle extends to Kickin'Chicken´s family, as he is friends with his mother, Clucketta, forging a close friendship between families. Recognizing the demands of parenthood, Mr. Bubbaphant would occasionally assist Clucketta by taking on babysitting duties, providing her with much-needed respite while her husband Rockin´ Rooster is away on his own endeavors.

Through their shared experiences and mutual respect, Bubba learns the value of compassion, friendship, and the importance of standing by those they care about.

BONUS: Kickin´ was the only one of the Smiling Critters who got to know Bubba´s mother before she passed away. And after her loss he made sure to be there to support his friend all the way just like the young elephant had done for him in the past.

Kickin'Chicken (Part ||)

Rockin'Rooster is a renowned singer in the Smiling Critters universe and the father of Kickin' Chicken. Despite his fame, Rockin' spends little time with his family, prioritizing his career over them.

Kickin' idolizes his father, despite his older sister Pecky harboring resentment towards him for his selfishness. Though Rockin' favors Pecky, hoping she'll continue his musical legacy, but she rejects his expectations. Instead, she enjoys music with her friends for fun as she even plays in a band with them, but she doesn't seek for fame or fortune. Rockin' later shifts his attention to Kickin', who adores his father but longs for more family connection. The young boy feels overwhelmed by his many younger siblings, as his father's absence is often filled with new additions to the family. But despite this, Kickin' loves his family deeply.

Clucketta, Kickin's mother, once shared Rockin's passion for music, but she now focuses on supporting her family. She sacrificed her own career as a dancer before moving to Jolly Valley (I still have to think of a name for the town though) in order to live a happy and peaceful life... Despite the family's imperfections. And though she no longer wears her Merry Charm, when she does, she keeps her pendant hidden as it makes her feel nostalgic of the times where she could pursue her passion for dancing.

BONUS: Adult Kickin' design! I like to imagine that he becomes some sort of dancing teacher in the future.

[zyhkoo]

☆ Birds of a feather

angst, jason x gn!reader, ‘doll’ being used

Jason can’t love you the way you do.

a/n: hi everyone! my friend help me with this one, give a round of applause to her! i shall do my requests soon, i’m just busy.

You loved Jason, the two of you have been glued to the hip for who knows when. You have been there since he was still Robin, and now as Red Hood. Your bond was unparalleled, a friendship strong enough to withstand any storm. The kind of connection one only dreams of finding.

Everyone who knew the two of you was acutely aware of your unshakeable bond. It was an almost tangible presence, as if the two of you were tethered together by an invisible force. You were rarely ever seen without the other, so much so that your names were often mentioned in the same breath.

Jason's emotional struggles with romance were a reality that you had come to accept. Despite the deep connection the two of you shared, he was plagued by an internal turmoil that made the prospect of a romantic relationship unattainable for him.

You, for your part, had come to understand and accept this aspect of his nature, recognizing that the bond between the two of you was not defined by romantic love, but by a deep, unwavering loyalty and friendship.

You longed for the comfort of knowing that Jason would always be by your side, even in the face of death itself. The thought of him staying with you until you were laid in the grave, dead and buried, and carried away in a casket, brought an intense sense of security and comfort. If Jason ever decided to leave, you knew that you wouldn't be far behind. It was always him for you, and there was nothing that could change that.

Jason, too, was acutely aware of your unwavering loyalty to him. Knowing that you would follow him to the ends of the earth, no matter what hardships or trials he faced. It was a knowledge that weighed heavily on him, knowing that your fate was intertwined with his own.

Your unshakeable devotion stirred within him a complex mix of emotions- pride in your loyalty, coupled with a pang of guilt. Pride because he knew you would always stick by his side, no matter the consequences.

Jason was acutely aware of how much your unrequited feelings for him were causing you pain. Despite his own internal struggles with romance, he recognized that your love for him was deep and unwavering. He knew how much it hurt you for him to not be able to return your romantic feelings, and he felt immense guilt for causing you such pain.

He often struggled with the knowledge that he could never give you what you desired the most from him, and this realization weighed heavily on his heart. It pained him to know that he could never fulfill the romantic hopes and dreams of the one person who meant the world to him.

The two of you were in a bookstore, surrounded by stacks of leather-bound volumes and the scent of aged paper. Jason was the one who introduced you to the world of books. He led you through the labyrinthine shelves, his fingers brushing against the spines of the books with a reverence that spoke of his deep connection to the written word. The two of you shared a comfortable silence, both finding solace in the pages that surrounded you.

You took several books on the shelves, placing them in the small shopping carts that they provided. “I got enough for the whole summer,” you said, turning to him. “What about you?” Jason shrugged and picked up a few books to add to the cart, “I’m not far behind.”

He picks up a book, it was about a loyal man who reunited with his dead wife. He stood there for a moment, holding the book in his hand and staring at the cover. This was a tale that typically ended on a happy note.

But his thoughts lingered on a different kind of ending, one that didn't necessarily have a happy ending. He thought about the two of you, your unwavering loyalty and how despite your devotion, there wasn't the same romantic element present. You noticed the melancholy expression that crossed his face, and you could sense that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

You approached him, and gently asked, "Is there something on your mind?”

He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he averted his gaze.

“It’s nothing, doll.” he responded, his voice trailing off as he absently flipped through the pages of the book in his hands.

You shrugged, not wanting to press him too much. You knew that Jason often preferred to keep his emotions and thoughts close to his chest, and trying to get him to open up could sometimes feel like pulling teeth. You busied yourself with the other books in the cart, trying to give him a moment to work through whatever was troubling him.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at his apartment, as he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, he felt a pang of unease in his chest. He needed to discuss something important with you.

“So, what are we doing? Movie night? Mario kart?” you said with a smile. Jason forced a smile in response, the tension in his chest tightening further. "Actually," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Something important."

A pit formed in your stomach, talk about what exactly? You placed your books down on the coffee table and looked back at his gaze. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jason took a deep breath before speaking again. "I've been having somethin’ lately, doll." he said, his voice quieter now. "About our friendship."

Your heart sank a little at his words, your mind immediately jumping to worst-case scenarios. He doesn't want to be friends anymore, you thought to yourself. He's pulling away, getting distant. Was he going to say what you were dreading to hear?

Jason noticed the look on your face and quickly spoke up again. "It's not anything bad," he hurried to reassure you. "I've been goin’ through some stuff. And I think we need to talk about where we stand." You relaxed slightly at his words, albeit a bit puzzled. You looked at him questioningly, silently encouraging him to continue.

"Our friendship is... important to me, doll." he sighed, meeting your gaze. "You're the most important person in my life. But I can't jus’ ignore fact that..." He paused, his sentence hanging in the air. Your mind raced with possibilities, trying to decipher what he was trying to say. You could feel the tension in the air, and your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I know how you feel about me," he said, "I know you want more."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. He knew. He had been aware this whole time, and he had said nothing. Your mind raced, a million thoughts and emotions swirling within you.

"I want to be honest with you," he continued, "And I don't want to hurt you. But I can't give you what you want. I can't give you that kind of love. It’s not something I can do."

Your heart ached at his words, the weight of them hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had hoped, deep down, that maybe he would reciprocate your feelings. But now, the reality was crushing your heart into pieces.

Jason's expression was one of guilt and remorse. "It hurts me too," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "Seeing you wanting something from me that I can't give. It's like a constant knife in my chest, knowing that I can't make you happy the way you deserve." You held his hand “It’s okay,” you forced a smile “It’s okay if you don’t. My friendship with you, it's very important.”

Jason's grip on your hand tightened slightly. "You say that, but I know it's not true," he said, "I see the way you look at me doll, the way you longingly touch my hand or lean in closer. It's not just friendship for you, and deep down, we both know it."

Your heart clenched at his words. He was right, you couldn't deny it. But you didn't want to push him away or make him feel guilty for something he couldn't control. So, you just smiled again. "It's really okay," you repeated, trying to sound more convincing this time. "We'll... we'll make it work, right? Just us, as friends."

He knew that you were putting on a brave front for him, trying to downplay your own feelings in order to salvage the friendship. He wanted to say more, to try to explain the reasons behind his inability to reciprocate your feelings. But he knew that it would only make matters worse. So, he just squeezed your hand tighter, "Sure doll," he said softly. "Just us, as friends."

You softly chuckled “Doll,” you repeated “You never stopped calling me that.” Jason forced a smile, his heart aching at the familiarity of the nickname. It was one of the many reminders of your closeness, a testament to the deep bond you shared.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," he said. The irony of the nickname suddenly weighed heavily on him. Doll was a term of endearment, a term that typically invoked feelings of love. And yet here he was, the person who had never been able to feel those things for you, calling ypu ‘doll.’

"I probably should stop callin’ you that," he said quietly. "No," you said quickly, not wanting to cause more pain than either of you were already experiencing. "I like it. It's... comforting, coming from you."

"If you're sure," he said quietly. You smiled softly, trying to reassure him that it was genuinely alright. "Yeah, I'm sure," you said, your voice full of genuine affection. "It's our thing, right? Don't overthink it."

He wanted to believe that things could continue as they were between the two of you, that he could still hold onto the one person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. "Okay, doll," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "If that's what you want. We'll keep it our thing."

When you come back home, you quietly weep. You don't know what you’re crying for.

"I don’t think I could love him more..." you whispered to yourself between sobs. The depth of your feelings for him was overwhelming, but the fact that he didn't feel the same way left you feeling empty and defeated.

Your mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts. Part of you wanted to keep the relationship as it was, grateful for the intimacy and companionship you shared. Another part of you wrestled with the frustration and pain of a one-sided love. Each tear that fell felt like a small piece of your heart breaking, but you couldn't bring yourself to walk away. Despite the pain, Jason meant the world to you, and the thought of losing him was unbearable.

[mmountseb]

Your Shirt

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex

Notes: haven’t wrote one in so long and decided to finally give it a go hope you like it

Your Shirt - Mason Mount fluff

As Mason lays beside Y/N in his bed, his heart swelled with a potent mixture of desire and pride as he gazed upon her wearing nothing but his England shirt, with his name proudly displayed on her back.

As much as she was from a different country she still felt the need to wear his country shirt with his name on her back

The fabric draped over her curves in a tantalizing display, accentuating her beauty and igniting a fierce sense of possessiveness within him.

He wanted her in a way they hadn’t been intimate yet

With each glance at her, Mason felt a surge of desire well up inside him, knowing that she had chosen to wear his shirt, a symbol of their connection and intimacy.

The sight of her wearing it filled him with a sense of validation and belonging, as if she had willingly wrapped herself in his identity, embracing all that he was.

It was the deeper, more profound sense of intimacy and trust that it represented.

In that moment, as they lay together in the quiet intimacy of their shared space, Mason felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the woman beside him, for her unwavering support and love.

As he reached out to trace the letters of his name on her back, Mason couldn't help but feel a surge of desire course through him, the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips sparking a fire within him that burned with a fierce intensity.

Their bodies pressed together in the quiet intimacy of their shared space, as much as he was supposed to be paying attention to the film she had picked he couldn’t help himself but letting his mind wander to how would it feel to have her ride him while wearing his name on her back

His mind was travelling to forbidden territory, fueled by the intoxicating sight of her wearing nothing but his England shirt.

With each gentle movement she made, the fabric of the shirt shifted against her skin, accentuating her curves and igniting a primal desire within him.

As he watched her, a vivid image began to form in his mind—a fantasy of Y/N pleasuring him while still wearing his shirt.

The thought alone sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine, his body responding instinctively to the imagined sensation of her hands roaming his skin beneath the fabric.

Lost in the intensity of his desire, Mason couldn't help but hug her from behind while hiding his face on the curve of her neck and pulling her even closer enough to let her know that he was turned on

Y/N's innocent apology cut through Mason’s reverie, snapping him back to the present moment with a jolt.

He blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the realization of where his thoughts had taken him.

Y/N: "I'm sorry, Mase. I didn't mean to... you know, make you feel... turned on."

Her words were tentative, laced with a hint of uncertainty as she glanced at him, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush.

Mason: "No babe it's not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for."

His voice came out a little too hastily, a touch of awkwardness coloring his tone as he tried to reassure her.

Mason: "I mean, it's just... you look really good in my shirt, and... well, I couldn't help but let my mind wander a bit."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at his candid admission, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she processed his words.

Y/N: "Oh, um... thank you. I guess I didn't realize the effect it would have on you." She said turning around to face him on his embrace

Mason: "Yeah, well... you have that effect on me, Y/N. You always have."

His words came out softer than he had intended, tinged with a vulnerability he hadn't planned on revealing.

But as he looked into Y/N's eyes, he knew that he couldn't hide the truth from her—that she had always held a power over him, a power that transcended words and boundaries.

Y/N's smile widened at his admission, a warmth spreading through her at the depth of his feelings

She felt bravely enough to bite her lips and take her hands to his hair.

Not before taking his hands further down on her body earning a gently tugging on her soft but cheek

Y/N: "You have that effect on me too”

In that moment, as they shared a knowing glance, Mason felt a sense of connection and understanding wash over him

He felt the need to pull her even closer even if it wasn’t physically possible anymore

As their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding and vulnerability, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension. In a surge of longing and desire, Mason leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from Y/N's.

With a whispered exhale, Y/N closed the remaining distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion between them.

Their mouths moved together with a fervent hunger, each touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through their veins.

His hands found their way to Y/N's waist, under the shirt, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, their bodies melding together in a primal dance of desire.

Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him, her heart racing with the intensity of their connection.

Their kiss was filled with an urgency born of longing and need, each touch a silent plea for more.

They lost themselves in the heat of the moment, the world falling away as they surrendered to the raw, unbridled passion that consumed them.

In that fleeting moment, as their lips met in a fervent embrace. There was no turning back anymore now

Lost in the intensity of the moment, they surrendered to the fire that burned between them, their kisses growing more urgent and desperate with each passing second.

Time seemed to stand still as they melted into each other, consumed by the raw passion that ignited their souls

Mason reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's face as he searched her eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation after pulling away from the kiss

Mason: "Are you okay? I didn't mean to... I mean, I hope I didn't..."

Y/N silenced him with a soft kiss, her lips meeting his in a tender embrace that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

Y/N: "I'm more than okay, Mase. I've never felt more alive than I do in this moment."

Mason felt a surge of relief wash over him at her words, his fears and doubts melting away in the warmth of her embrace.

Mason: "Good. Because I... I don't want to stop kissing you. Ever."

Their laughter mingled with the soft sounds of their shared breaths, filling the air with a sense of joy and contentment that seemed to transcend time and space.

Y/N: "Then don't. Kiss me again."

And with that simple invitation, Mason leaned in, capturing Y/N's lips in another electrifying kiss

[moowmoon]

LITTLE LOVE NOTES

— aaron hotchner x fem!reader

— summary: it was after a long day of paperwork that aaron discovered his love for little love notes.

— c/w: i think none?

— w/c: 649

— a/n: hi, again! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there are any mistakes!

As soon as Aaron opened the door to his house, he felt the tiredness weighing on his shoulders after a long day of dealing with paperwork from previous cases. Silence enveloped him, bringing a sense of peace that he rarely had time to appreciate. He sighed, loosening his tie, and bent down to untie his shoes. It was then that something small and colorful in the closet, near where he kept his coat, caught his eye.

Curious, he carefully picked up the small folded piece of paper. As he opened it, a smile broke out unexpectedly as he read the familiar handwriting: “To my weary hero, a well-deserved rest awaits you”. He laughed lightly, feeling warm inside. Driven by curiosity, he began to look around, wondering if there were others scattered around the house — a little game of hidden affection for him to discover.

Aaron, now intrigued, walked down the corridor towards the kitchen, curiosity playing on his face. Next to the coffee maker, where they had spent many moments together, he found another note attached with a heart-shaped magnet to the refrigerator door. The message, written in the same affectionate handwriting, read: “Who needs coffee when I'm already addicted to you?”. He laughed softly, feeling the fatigue of the day dissipate as the warmth of the message settled in his chest.

He then headed for the bathroom, driven by the impulse to see where else that trail of affection would take him. When he opened the mirror in the closet, there was another note, simple and delicate: “Even in routine, every moment with you is an adventure”. The note made him pause for a moment, looking at his own reflection and thinking about how, despite the exhausting routine, these small gestures brought him immense comfort.

Finally, back in his room and after his shower, Aaron approached the bed, leaning over to adjust the pillow. And there, hidden underneath, he found the next note. As he picked it up, the phrase made his heart warm even more intensely: “May this be the place where your dreams always come home”.

Aaron sighed, lying down with the note in hand, his smile still present as he felt the weight of the day dissolve completely. He touched the note gently as if it were a fragile piece of a puzzle created just for him. With each message, he could remember every detail about her: the way she smiled, the little jokes, the attentive look she noticed when Aaron was tired. It was as if, even in her physical absence, she was looking after him in every corner of the house, filling the empty spaces with love.

When he finally lay down, pulling the blanket over himself, he felt the comfort of the bed embrace his tired body. As he sank his face into the pillow, something soft and familiar touched his hand. He groped around until he found another folded piece of paper, carefully left there, like the last touch of a silent ritual of affection.

As he opened the note, his eyes caught the simple but deeply sincere words: “I'm here for you, always”.

He closed his eyes, holding the note against his chest. It was as if he could feel her warm presence in the soft shadows that filled the room, in the peaceful silence that settled around him. They weren't just words; they were promises that echoed off the walls, in the subtle perfume that filled the air, in every corner that now seemed to welcome him with open arms.

With a long sigh, he finally relaxed, the weight of the previous days falling away in the midst of this silent gesture of love. He fell asleep with the certainty that, at the end of any day, no matter how difficult, there would always be a safe place, where love would wait patiently for him, firm and unwavering.

[irisintheafterglow]

the first time you tell opla!zoro that you love him, you're not sober either. (part one here!)

"i just-i just don't know what to do," you sniffle, another wave of emotions leaking through your tired eyes and onto your tear-stained shirt. "i'm so in love with him it makes me physically ill, nami."

"mhmm, i can tell," she replies absentmindedly, taking another sip from her drink in the musty light of the bar.

"nami," you plead, wasted out of your mind with your cheek pressed against the dirty table.

"sweetheart," she replies with the same melodrama, unable to hide the amusement in her voice.

"i'm so sad." your voice breaks on the last word and you make a loud hiccup-like noise that has the other guests of the bar eyeing you warily. you couldn't guess how long it'd been since you dragged nami from her hammock to go drink your sorrows away. to her credit, she stayed with you until her patience was thinner than a paper cut.

"i know you are," she says slowly after you'd gone over the same topic about four times in the last five minutes. "look, i feel like you should just tell him. he already told you his feelings."

"see, but that's the thing." she shoots you a skeptical look and you sigh back at her. "what if he's lying? or if he didn't actually mean it?"

"why would he lie about something so significant as that?"

"i don't know, maybe he thought i was someone else-"

"from what you've very thoroughly informed me, he expressed his feelings for you, and only you," she reminds you, tilting her glass toward you for emphasis. her gaze flicks up behind you and she raises her eyebrows briefly, like whoever was approaching was another tool for her entertainment. "tell him. it's now or never."

"what the hell do you-"

"you're out of your mind if you think it's okay to get them drunk before a mission." his voice immediately sobers you, white-hot shame coursing through your veins as you sit up and try to make yourself look presentable. thankfully, he's glaring daggers into nami, who merely shrugs and offers something about being here for a good time, not a long time. "c'mon, i'm taking you back to the ship," he mutters, lifting you from your seat and letting you grab his unfairly strong bicep for stability.

"why'd you come get me?" your steps wobble slightly on the cobblestone, but zoro's determination to keep you upright is unwavering. "i could have gone home with nami."

"i got worried about where you were. thought something happened."

"nothing happened except alcohol and feelings," you drawl absentmindedly, the airy feeling in your mind becoming fuzzier the longer you're with him.

"ah, two of my favorite things."

"liar, you only talk about your feelings when you're drunk." blinking slowly to recenter yourself, you cut him off before he can counter your accusation. "like, the other night. when you told me you loved me." the words slip out unplanned and his body becomes deathly still next to you, his arm so tense you could mine it with a pickaxe.

"i said...what?"

"that you loved me and that it was a secret," you say plainly, glancing at him to find his face a nearly imperceptible shade of pink. "what's with the blush?"

"it's nothing," he says quietly. sober you would have left the conversation at that, respecting his need for privacy and security about his private feelings.

drunk you, however, has no such manners.

"look at you, all red and shit." his ears become an even deeper shade of pink and you can't help laughing at his poor attempt to hide his embarrassment. "you wouldn't be so flushed if it was actually nothing, so what is it?"

"it's nothing," he restates. "it doesn't matter."

"it matters to me. you matter to me." his face feels like it's been set on fire and every place your body is making contact with his feels like an electric current. did you have any idea what your words were doing to him, he wondered. sure, what you said made his brain go foggy like the island coastline in the morning, but what you made him feel was so much worse. you made him feel so lovesick, it pained him.

"the sentiment is reciprocated," he murmurs low enough that you can barely hear him. even while you're dancing around in the streetlights, you've never looked so beautiful to him.

"can i tell you a secret?" he swallows thickly, unsure of how to continue navigating this situation. he settles for nodding, every movement restrained to keep from kissing you until the only oxygen in his lungs has gone through yours first. "you can't tell anyone, though."

"i'm a great secret keeper."

"no, you're not," you reply instantly and his mouth gapes indignantly. "you told me your biggest secret and you don't even remember it."

"fine. i won't tell anyone what you tell me, then. i don't know about anyone else," he promises. after what seemed like an eternity, he finally helps you into your hammock, taking great care to make sure you don't fall out. "if i do tell someone, you can kick me in the balls."

"enticing offer," you laugh and his mouth quirks in a half-smile that you only saw once in a blue moon.

"so, the secret?"

"oh, right," you whisper sleepily. "the secret is that i love you too. i love you so much that i want to throw up."

"i think that might be the alcohol, doll," he murmurs, his fingers gently brushing your cheek. "sober you and sober me need to have a long talk in the morning."

"we said that last time but didn't do shit about it."

"well, i think it's time i did something about it." your eyebrows furrow, completely forgetting anything you'd just talked about. it's okay, he figures. he'll show you how much you mean to him when you're both ready.

"did something about what?"

"how much i love you, too."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[admiringlove]

falling stars. the sixth part of @angstober is here! i really loved writing this one, ugh. anyways, happy reading <3 masterlist of the event can be found here.

being immortal was both a blessing and a curse.

zhongli had always been the god of contracts. it was the essence of his existence, a purpose etched into the very marrow of his being. he wasn’t always the composed, reserved man who carried the weight of centuries with quiet dignity, his gaze heavy with the nostalgia of eras long past. no, once, he had been sharp and unyielding—a man who lived and breathed duty. his loyalty to liyue was unshakable. liyue came first. always.

duty was his creed, his unwavering religion. the god of stone and earth, as immovable as the mountains he shaped. whenever his focus wavered, that mantra echoed in his mind: liyue comes first. duty comes first. it was an unrelenting rhythm that kept his soul in check.

but then, somehow, you happened.

you were the anomaly, the gentle rain that smoothed his jagged edges. he never quite understood how you slipped past the walls he’d spent millennia building. the god of contracts, once as steadfast as the stone he commanded, found himself softened—worn down not by time but by your presence. you were like the tide, subtle yet persistent, shaping him with a patience he didn’t know could exist. his rigid mountains melted into quiet hills, his soul drenched in the warmth of your laughter, the soft glow of fireworks, and a nostalgia he had never allowed himself to feel.

and now, for the first time, zhongli questioned where duty ended and where you began. you weren’t just a fleeting moment in his never-ending timeline. no, you were something far greater. you held his entire existence in your hands, like magic woven into your fingertips. you weren’t just his past—you were his present, his future, everything all at once.

and he hates that he’s slowly forgetting you. hates that he's still here, living, while it’s been eons since he last heard your voice, since the scent of you clung to his memory.

your scent. it was the first to fade, slipping through his grasp as the years stretched on. he remembers fragments—how you always smelled of the river, like the waters of qingce village clung to you. you loved the water, always said it felt like home. he’d once joked that you should have been born in fontaine, where the tides ruled, but you loved him long before you knew who he truly was.

you loved your god, and your devotion to rex lapis was so pure, so sacred, that it unsettled even him. most revered him with fear, with trembling awe, but you—no, you loved him as effortlessly as breathing. it's how he'd found you, standing before his statue, lighting incense in the stillness of prayer. he approached as zhongli, hands behind his back, watching as you offered your quiet supplications.

"did you know he's the eldest of the seven?" he murmured, his gaze lifting to the likeness of himself carved in stone. there was something serene in your posture, a calmness that baffled him. most would pray with reverence or dread, but you. you smiled softly as you waved the incense in the air, placing it at the statue’s base.

"everyone knows he's the eldest," you replied, casting him a sideways glance, "but most people don’t realize that barbatos is the second eldest."

zhongli blinked, a flicker of surprise playing at his lips. it was true—his old friend, the carefree anemo god, was the second oldest, though few knew this because of barbatos’ lighthearted demeanor.

"you seem well-versed in the ways of the gods," he remarked, curiosity piqued as he watched you. you chuckled, the sound light and warm. "my father’s a priest. i suppose that’s why. but i think rex lapis is different from the others."

zhongli’s interest deepened. he tilted his head. "how so?"

"you’ll laugh if i tell you," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips before you looked back at the statue, "but i think he’s a romantic. being the eldest must come with so much responsibility. i imagine he’s tired, weary from the weight of it all. from all of us."

zhongli frowned, something in your words striking a strange chord within him. "but that is his duty, is it not?" he asked, his brow furrowing, unsettled by the way your insight crawled beneath his skin.

you simply shook your head, smiling to yourself. "duty and purpose don’t always align, you know. rex lapis is a magnificent god, strong and wise. but i like to think he’s also present in the small moments, like an old friend. sometimes, i talk to him about my day."

zhongli’s gaze sharpened, a mix of amusement and suspicion in his eyes. "do you now?" he asked, voice low. "then perhaps he’s listening."

"if only," you laughed softly, the sound like wind brushing through leaves. "gods are mysterious creatures. i doubt they have the time to listen to a priest’s child ramble on about their mundane life."

if only you had known how closely he listened, how deeply your words had taken root within him, like seeds planted in the fertile soil of his heart. you were like water—gentle yet unyielding—flowing into the spaces between his thoughts, shaping him without him even realizing. after that day, you became something he could never quite shake, lingering like the soft glow of a lantern after dark—an ever-present warmth, like coming home after centuries spent wandering.

he finds you again, unexpectedly, sitting alone by the harbor in liyue city. there’s a heaviness to your expression, your brow furrowed as your eyes gaze out at the endless stretch of the sea, as if seeking solace in its waves. the wind tugs at your hair, carrying the salt of the ocean in the air, and you sigh—a quiet, resigned sound that makes something tighten in his chest. he watches you for a moment longer before making his way toward you.

"it’s you," he murmurs, his voice soft as the breeze, "from qingce village."

your head lifts slowly, and at first, your gaze holds no recognition, dulled by the weight of your troubles. but then, your eyes widen, lighting up with sudden relief. "you! by rex lapis, am i glad to see you."

his amber eyes, with their distinct diamond-shaped pupils, flicker in surprise. he hadn’t expected that reaction. you press on, your words tumbling out with a mixture of frustration and desperation. "this city is impossible. my father sent me here to assist a doctor with medicinal herbs, but i’m completely lost. and not one statue of morax inside the city! not one! where am i supposed to go every morning to pray?"

a small chuckle escapes him, low and warm, and he tilts his head slightly. "that is true. the nearest statue is just beyond the city’s borders, but it can be a dangerous journey. perhaps... you could join me for tea each morning instead. madame ping brews the finest oolong, and we often sit together in the high grounds before i start my day. you might even find your doctor there."

"really?" your face lights up, like the skies of liyue igniting during lantern rite, a spark of hope rekindled in your eyes. "you’d do that for me? include me in your routine, even though you barely know me?"

he smiles softly, settling onto the bench beside you. "you’re fond of rex lapis, aren’t you? so is madame ping. and so am i. i believe you’d make for good company."

"that’s... incredibly kind of you," you murmur, fingers loosening their tight grip on the straps of your bag, a hint of vulnerability slipping into your voice. "i never got your name, though."

he turns to face you, his gaze steady, the sunlight catching the red liner beneath his amber eyes, making them glow with a soft, almost ethereal light. "zhongli," he replies, watching you carefully, as though gauging your reaction.

you take in a slow breath, your eyes widening slightly as you look at him, something shifting in the air between you, fragile and significant all at once. "you know," you say, your voice a little softer now, "zhongli, you have a very familiar face."

he chuckles, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through the quiet of the harbor. "do i, now?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

and so, the friendship between you and, unbeknownst to you, rex lapis began. you spoke of him in the way a devout follower might speak of their deity, yet with a warmth, a familiarity, that zhongli couldn’t quite grasp. it was as if, in your heart, rex lapis was not a distant god ruling from on high, but a cherished friend; someone you could confide in without fear. and that comforted him in a way nothing else had. for once, someone revered him not out of awe or terror, but out of love. someone placed rex lapis on a pedestal for reasons beyond his power, beyond his duty. simply because they cared for him, deeply, genuinely.

perhaps that was why fate had woven your paths together. to teach him that he was more than his role, more than the weight of his eternal duty. to remind him that his purpose did not need to be solely bound to protecting liyue until the end of time. there could be more—there was more.

"i don’t think i can love anyone as much as i love the god of geo," you once confessed, after finally mastering the confusing streets of liyue harbor. the two of you were descending the stone steps after your usual morning tea with auntie ping—though now, you had grown fond enough of her to call her that. zhongli’s brow raised at your words, his steps slowing to match your pace, for you were always a little slower, always taking your time. "what do you mean by that?"

"i don’t know," you sighed, your gaze flickering to the distant horizon, "i have this... strange relationship with rex lapis. i love him. i idolize him. i think of him as an old friend, someone i can share my burdens with. but i also feel that... if someone were to love me, it would be hard for me to return the same intensity. i think it would pale in comparison to the way i love him." your voice trailed off, quieter, more uncertain. "it’s strange. like i said, a strange feeling to have. i don’t even know why i’m telling you this."

zhongli’s eyes softened as he watched you, his lips curving into a gentle, knowing smile. "i believe the word you’re searching for is sacred," he said quietly.

you blinked, surprised by his response, and for a brief moment, you narrowed your eyes at him as if trying to figure something out. because that familiar feeling tugged at you again—like a jigsaw falling into place, though you couldn’t quite see the whole picture yet. the way he smiled at you, the way he seemed to understand. it made your heart skip, just a little.

and, without realizing it, you began to favor a certain funeral parlor consultant over the god you once idolized.

he made you smile wider than you ever had, more than you ever did for rex lapis. zhongli had quietly woven himself into the fabric of your life, so seamlessly that it left you baffled, wondering when it all began. your days started to revolve around him—sometimes even your nights. he would tell you stories of liyue’s ancient history as if he had witnessed every moment himself, painting vivid pictures of a time long past. it left you in awe, admiring him more with every tale, until the realization struck like a wave crashing against the shore.

you had come to love zhongli more than rex lapis.

the thought gripped you with quiet terror. the way his eyes would crinkle with a knowing smile, the way his soft chuckles echoed in the silence after you mentioned your god—it all made your heart stumble, beat after beat. he was hiding something, you knew it. and it wasn’t just you who noticed. even auntie ping, with her ageless wisdom, seemed in on the secret. zhongli had once called her an old friend, but just how old, you couldn’t quite tell.

"how did you meet auntie ping?" you asked one evening, crossing the bridge near the funeral parlor, heading towards dinner. he paused, a flicker of hesitation passing through his amber eyes. "i don’t quite remember anymore," he said quietly, "we’ve simply been friends for a very long time. there was another once, but... she’s gone now. her name was guizhong."

"was she beautiful?" the question left your lips before you could stop yourself. "was she clever?"

his soft laugh carried through the evening air. "immensely," he said, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "we miss her, every now and then."

"did she..." your voice faltered as you stopped in your tracks. "did she pass away?"

he nodded, a touch of sadness lingering in his expression before he resumed walking. you remained rooted in place, pieces of a larger puzzle scattering through your mind. but it was as if your thoughts grew foggy whenever you were near him—like familiarity slipping through your fingers, just beyond reach. zhongli glanced back at you, tilting his head ever so slightly. "aren’t you coming?"

you murmured a soft “yes” and quickened your steps to catch up, brushing away the weight of your thoughts. "how did morax befriend cloud retainer?" you asked, steering the conversation back to familiar ground. he seemed to know so much more about your god than even your father, things lost to time.

and with every answer he gave, you found yourself more bewildered than before.

your curiosity always brought a quiet joy to zhongli, a chance for him to indulge in your questions, your wonder. at first, he thought nothing of it, simply an opportunity to share the knowledge he had gathered over centuries. but slowly, he found himself captivated, drawn to you in ways that puzzled even him. he started accompanying you outside the city, watching you in silence as you lit incense and knelt before the statue of rex lapis. but today, something was different. your expression had shifted, lips set in a thin, guilty line. like a river running cold, your posture stiffened as if weighed by an unspoken burden.

"is something troubling you?" his voice was gentle, though there was a faint edge of concern as he watched you stare up at the stone likeness of the god. you blinked, shaken from your daze, shaking your head with a quiet denial. but zhongli had known you long enough to see through the facade. "you’re different today. while you pray."

your throat tightened, words tangling within you. how could you admit that the man beside you, the one you’d come to know for mere months, had taken up more space in your heart than the god you had worshipped all your life? it was a storm within you, like water crashing through the valleys of your soul, eroding the bedrock of belief you had built.

"i can’t tell you," you murmured, turning your back to him. "this is between me and rex lapis."

"am i not your friend?" his voice was soft, almost too soft. "am i not as close to you as rex lapis is?"

he faltered then, realizing the weight of his words. what had he just revealed? he hoped the slip of his tongue wouldn’t shatter the delicate line he had walked all this time. you were clever—more clever than anyone he’d known—but perhaps your heart would refuse to see the truth.

yet why had he even said it? he was rex lapis, wasn’t he? so why did it matter that zhongli, the mortal, had become more important to you than the god? why did he feel envy, for his own self?

"you are not him," you whispered, a note of disturbance in your voice. "you are mortal. he is my god."

"he is your friend," zhongli replied quietly, searching your face, "and so am i. if something troubles you, something that disturbs your prayer, why not tell me? i don’t want to see you unhappy like this."

"i can’t," you insisted, your shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. "why don’t you understand-"

"but why not?"

"because i’m in love with you!" the words bursted from you, raw and trembling in the space between you both. your voice did not crack with tears, but the defeat in your eyes spoke of an agony deeper than tears could show. "and you’ve taken up more space in my life than my god. and that... that breaks me."

the confession hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as if the world itself had stilled in the wake of your words.

"oh," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "i am sorry."

he watched as your face twisted in thought, a realization settling behind your eyes, something heavy and final. "i know," you murmured, turning away, your voice distant. "we should head back into the city before it gets dark."

"wait, i must tell you-"

"no, zhongli." you shook your head, your defeat palpable. "i know you don’t feel the same. it’s alright. i shouldn’t feel this way either. i’m supposed to love him more."

"but i do feel the same," he said, his voice suddenly firm, cutting through your words with a softness that startled you. "i feel the same, so why shouldn’t you?"

your mind went blank. his words left you utterly speechless, like the world had tipped sideways. you blinked up at him, confusion written across your furrowed brows, eyes glassy as you struggled to make sense of what he had just said. it felt almost sacrilegious. zhongli stepped closer, his hand finding your shoulder with the familiarity of an old friend. "it is why i want to spend every moment of my life with you. why i want you to stay by my side until my last breath. is that not fair?"

you stared at him, blinking rapidly, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. how could this be real? how could the man who had become your constant, your guide, feel the same way you did? he spoke again, his voice steady and warm, as though wrapping you in a promise. "if you love morax so much, then let’s draw a contract between us. that you will love me with the same intensity as you love him. and in return, i’ll help you love him more. i will tell you stories about him, i will show you more of liyue harbor, i will take you to the temples, and pray alongside you until your last breath—if that is what keeps you content."

his words washed over you like a tide, a promise carved from stone and time. you felt the weight of it, the gravity of his offer. this man, this mortal, who had unknowingly become the center of your world, was offering himself wholly to you—not in opposition to the god you revered, but alongside him, like two halves of the same whole. it was a contract, a binding of hearts, one that felt as sacred as the prayers you had once whispered at the foot of the statue.

and so another chapter of zhongli’s infinitely long life began. but you were not infinite—you were fleeting, a moment in time that would fade. you aged like the finest wines of mondstadt, while he remained the same: tall, revered, handsome. your hair greyed, lines formed at the corners of your eyes, and soon, you grew older than auntie ping. and then, just like that, you were gone.

the scent of you vanished with the passing breeze, the smell of the rivers from qingce village where you grew up, the fragrance of old history books you lovingly stored, cleaned, and kept in your home. all of it—gone.

but zhongli remembers. he remembers every lantern rite spent by your side, watching the fireworks burst in the sky, but always, always watching you instead. the way your eyes lit up in awe at the colors that painted the night sky—he treasures it more than any celebration. and even after you were gone, liyue continued to bustle, unchanged. and zhongli stayed the same.

he lived on, because immortality was both a blessing and a curse. every year, he would stand on the high grounds, watching the fireworks bloom in the heavens with a weight in his chest that only grew heavier with time. and every year, he thought of you—your boundless curiosity, your devotion that never wavered.

he remembers the day he found your letter, tucked away like a relic, jagged edges and all. the curiosity that once led you to him now led him to unfold that paper with trembling hands. your words were simple, but they cut deep.

you had told him to live a long life—how ironic. as if he could do anything but. to eat well, as if you were still there, cooking for him each morning and night. to drink tea with ping, because you knew the weight of his loneliness. and you told him you loved him, as if he didn't already know, as if he couldn’t feel it in the way you breathed life into everything around you.

and then, what struck him most, what lingered in the back of his mind even after centuries passed, was how you signed it.

"thank you for everything, rex lapis. i leave you with love."

it was the last thing he had from you, and yet it was more than enough to keep your memory alive—because in the end, you had known. you had always known.

in his long life, he had done countless great things, and shall do countless more still. as they say: the waters change course, but the mountains move not.

so zhongli continues to live. carrying your love with him like an echo in his heart, as eternal as he was.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[wystiix]

"love is sour grapes"

❥ pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader ❥ synopsis: It's a rainy night and you're snoozing. Arlecchino just watches over you while thinking about your time together, and how far you both had come. ❥ cw: n/a ❥ additional tags: second pov perspective, reader is not traveler ❥ word count: 804 ❥ notes: hi hi so like ya i haven't played her story quest, but i wanted to write this dedicated to my bae (vel)!! i hope this isn't too inaccurate.. erm yeah. i was cooking this shit at 2am in the morning so take what you get. ❥ taglist: @honkai-freak (for u bbg) @mikashisus @tragedy-of-commons

According to the books, love is an intense feeling of deep affection. It is often portrayed as a positive feeling, from the butterflies fluttering in your stomach to the overall warmth that spreads throughout your entire being.

It can elevate you to the heights of bliss. At the same time, it can cut deeply enough to leave scars.

Arlecchino has experienced the latter. Her heart, if it still could be called that, had long been hardened like stone. What is love, if not a knife carefully pressed to her heart? She had avoided it for so long. The thought, the concept itself—it never dawned upon her.

Yet, here she was.

You slept soundly, snuggling in the sheets as you took off to the land of nod. Arlecchino simply observed you on the other side of the bed, watching your chest rise and fall to the sound of pouring rain outside. 

How would one describe such a complex feeling? Why did she feel all tingly whenever she thought of you?

She leaned in and brushed a few strands of your hair to the side, showing your peaceful, sleeping face. A slight prickle met her fingers and a warmth seeped through her chest as a result. There it was again.

It was almost hard to fathom—and pathetic—that people would go to any lengths for the sake of their beloved. However, now she understood. Now that you were here, she’d willingly hurl herself into a pit of barbed wires if you desired.

The faint warmth of your body coaxed her closer, unable to pull her gaze away from yours. Her eyes traced over your sleeping form, memorising the shape of your face that she so adored. She felt so… alive. Alive in a way that almost scared her.

What does it truly mean to deserve love? Is it something that must be earned like a hard-earned gift, or does it simply come to you?

Honestly, she wasn't sure herself. She didn't know why you had chosen… her out of all the people in Teyvat. Arlecchino didn't have to work for your love, no? She had already earned it according to you.

Deserving. That word left a bitter taste in her mouth. What did she do to deserve this peace, this unwavering affection? What did she do to deserve you at all? Nothing, she thought. And yet, you still chose her. Despite the amount of blood stains she had and the rough calluses on her hands, you still intertwined your fingers with hers, bringing them to your lips and pressing a tender kiss on each one.

Is love a blessing or a burden?

It was like a sour grape, once thought too sharp to swallow. Though, the grape turned out to be much sweeter than expected the more she chewed.

Perhaps, she'd be willing to bite the pain as well.

She scooted closer to you, her breath warm against your skin as she gently brushed her fingertips across your face. You stirred in your sleep, instinctively reaching out for her warmth, and she let you find her.

Silence enveloped the dark room as Arlecchino lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The rain pattering against the window mirrored the steady beat of your heart, grounding her in the present at this very moment. She stroked your hair lovingly, relishing the softness of it.

Soft, like fragile threads of silk. Her mind raced. That leaves her to ponder: what if she hurt you? What if the same hands of a Harbinger that had caused so much pain to others couldn’t hold you as gently as they should?

“I don’t deserve you.”

You didn’t seem to hear her. She felt you shift slightly once again, a soft mumble escaping your lips as your hand blindly reached out and curled around her fingers. Her fingers grazed your cheek again, gentler than the first touch as if she feared you’d slip away if she wasn’t careful. She pressed a fleeting kiss on your hair.

Arlecchino wanted to say so many things to you. How thankful she really was for someone to walk into her life.

She swallowed hard.

“Even then, I'm quite content it was you, I…” she paused, processing her thoughts.

The words were foreign on her tongue. She'd never spoken them before. However, the truth radiated from within.

“I love you.” 

The words slipped out, softer than she intended, but they felt right. They didn't have a bitter, sour aftertaste to it. It rolled off her tongue so, so easily. She wasn’t sure if you heard. If you didn’t… perhaps that was for the best.

She didn't deserve you. She never would.

But with the way you held onto her like an anchor, she knew one thing for certain—she would never let go of the one she cherished ever again.

[mothwingwritings]

Cherished Gift

F!Reader X Zayne (Love And Deepspace)

Look, I know this is coming out of left field but I did not want to let my husband Zayne Love and Deepspace’s birthday pass by without at least trying to write/post something. I hustled to get this out, it’s truly probably the quickest I have written something lol. It’s little and a bit rushed, but I hope you all enjoy!!! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZAYNE! It’s all about you today, my Virgo king! <3

Warnings: NSFW, Mentions of sex and sexual themes so 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!! Other than that, it’s all just fluff and love my darlings! <3 There is very little editing, though.

Witnessing an uncomposed Zayne was a very rare sight. His default state was to be the stoic and stern doctor, exhibiting a frosty countenance and no-nonsense demeanor that would make anyone in his presence want to instantly be on their best behavior. It was such a natural state for him that it often aggravated you, as you felt that his outward presentation kept so many people from getting to know the true Zayne, and what a loving, giving, warm person he actually was. 

But currently, that grim doctor was nowhere to be found. In his place was a blissed out, disheveled mess, half clothed and panting as he lounged in his plush recliner. Sweat made his hair stick to his flushed forehead, his red tinted cheeks making him look almost cherubic were it not for the fire that smoldered in his emerald eyes, and throbbing dick still buried deep inside of you.

Even in his post coitus haze, his eyes never once left your form. He drank you in with as much interest now as he had while you were writhing and bouncing on his cock, maybe even more so now that he wasn’t completely lost in the thralls of pleasure. Though you were pleased with your work, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by his unwavering attention, especially considering that Zayne wasn’t the only one left in such a sloppy state.

The lingerie set you had purchased especially for his birthday celebration had long since been discarded (it was incredible really, just how quickly the skimpy fabric gave way to his feverish hands), and your makeup and hair that you had fretted over for hours  was now nothing more than a smeared mess and chaotic tangle. Part of you wanted to dismount him right away and run to the restroom to freshen up, take a moment to remove the saliva and bits of cum that still lingered around your lips from your first go around with him. But you couldn’t find yourself pulling away from him, and minor embarrassment aside, Zayne did not appear to care how filthy you looked. His eyes still held on to you with such wanton reverence that you couldn’t help but blush, drinking in your unkempt appearance with a warmth that made your heart melt.

After several moments of silence that were broken only by the rasps of your choppy breathing, you felt him start to soften inside of you. The hands you had planted firmly on his chest noticing his heart beat steady, the electric energy buzzing in the air during your love making diminishing into a pleasant aura of peace.

Slowly, you climbed off him, his hands reluctantly falling from your waist as you did so. With a wave of your hand you motioned him to scoot over, which once done, you nestled beside him, burrowing yourself into the crook of his arm. He wrapped the limb around you tightly, keeping you pressed firmly to his side as he planted a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

Once you had settled in, you spoke up. “So,” a playful lilt tinged your voice as you looked up at the man holding you so lovingly, “How would you rank your birthday thus far? It at least has to be better than working, right?”

He answered with a pleased hum, “This is the best birthday I have ever had. I’ve been completely spoiled.” His hand traveled to your head, lazily massaging his fingers against your scalp, “But you may have created a monster. Now I am going to start expecting this treatment every birthday.”

 You giggled, “Lucky for you, this is only the tip of the iceberg! I’ll spoil you rotten for every one of your birthdays if you let me~”

It was Zayne’s turn to laugh, a small smile creeping across his lips, “Are you just trying to get me indebted to you?” He scrubbed your head, giving you another chaste kiss, “Because there is no need, you won’t ever have to bribe me for my affection. Everything I have I give to you freely. Your presence alone is enough of a treat, and your love is a gift I will forever cherish.”

“Zayne,” snuggling your face closer to his chest, you hoped to hide the deep crimson brought on by his earnest admission, “… I could spend hours talking and never be able to explain how much you mean to me. Words shy in comparison to the depths of my feelings, but… I love you. I will always love you, Zayne.”

With your heart felt confession lingering in the air, you spent the next several minutes glued to each other’s side in a comfortable silence. As you watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, your eyes began to grow heavy, the exertion of the day’s prior activities finally catching up to you. While you were swiftly being carried off to dream land, you felt Zayne  moving beside you. The lack of warmth made you crack your eyes, your sleepy gaze watching as he repositioned himself atop you.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, “I was going to take you to bed so you could sleep more comfortably.”

You rubbed your eyes, shaking your head a bit. “No, it’s OK. I am glad you woke me up. I don’t want to spend the rest of your birthday sleeping, I want to spend it with you.”

He smiled at the innocent delivery of your words, “Well if a nap is out of the question, why don’t we start getting cleaned up for dinner?”

You gave a nod of approval, sitting up to stretch your weary body. Arching your back and extending your arms, the cool air on your exposed skin caused you to shiver slightly, goosebumps forming across your chest and arms at the sensation. Feeling a bit more spry now that you were loosened up, you started to shimmy your way off the seat, but Zayne’s body blocked your path, barring you from moving any further. “Zayne…?”

Fire was coming back to his eyes as he watched you move, answering your inquiry with a kiss to your lips. What started out as a peck soon grew in ferocity, hungry lips moving against yours with a passion you were desperate to match.

“Zayne,” you breathed in between his relentless assault, “I thought you said we were going to get cleaned up? I’m kind of gross right now, and we have a reservation, so we have to get ready to leave soon.”

“We have time,” he cut you off gently, planting a kiss to the tip of your nose, “and you are brilliant, even all mussed up. In fact, I find you exceptionally lovely right now knowing that I was the one that brought you to such a state.”

Your body flushed as he continued his attack, skilled hands trailing the length of your body, caressing you so gingerly you couldn’t help but careen your body towards him, seeking out more. “So beautiful,” he whispered against your neck, “Every part of you is breathtaking, (Name). Let me enjoy you.”

“But it’s your birthday, not mine …” Your voice trailed off as he nipped at your breast, biting down just hard enough to leave a lasting mark. You whimpered as he then kissed the tender flesh, your reaction causing a small, mischievous smile to form on his face.

“I know,” his soft voice murmured against your chest as he continued trailing his lips down your body, “Which is precisely why I know you won’t deny me my favorite gift of all, correct? The best way to make me feel good is to let me make you feel good in return.”

You smiled sheepishly at him, moving your hands to gently cup his face, “Well, I guess I can’t deny the birthday boy on his special day, can I?” You sighed, tracing your thumb gently across the apple of his cheek, “I love you.”

He turned his head, leaving a kiss on your palm, “I love you, too.”

[pigeonpeach]

Genshin bachelorettes and bachelors proposing!

Characters: Jean, Diluc, Eula, Itto, Kuki Shinobu, Kujo Sara, Navia, Clorinde, Arlecchino

Cw: fem reader, fluff mostly, some suggestive themes.

Arataki Itto

Oh this was a hard decision. Not that he didn’t want to spend his life with you but if now was the right time to propose. He isn’t exactly the most well off. His gang camps out in the wilderness and he knows your parent’s expect him to improve. And he wants to. With Shinobu’s help he starts to get a education much to your surprise. Slowly working himself up to have more than a basic reading level. When he can land a more steady income then he’ll propose. He wants to get you the best ring in all of Tevyat. Unfortunately he can’t afford that. But Shinobu advises him to aim for more affordable but still pretty rings.

As for the proposal itself. He’s definitely going for either the big party with friends or if he’s spent most of his mora on the ring already he’ll just ask you on a quiet little walk with just you present. But knowing Itto, you probably would’ve found the ring before all that.

Itto may not be the best in terms of providing money, but he’d never slack off elsewhere. His granny raised no coward! If you’re the breadwinner he’ll gladly take up the house chores. He is a bit dumb yes but he is the most loyal and devoted man you could meet. With unwavering support and loyalty. Never will he let you face anything alone.

Eula Lawerence

Marriage is a bit complicated for her. She has renounced her family yes, she is disowned yes. But the subject of last names is what gets her. Truth be told… her last name is a small price to pay for you. She knows the other option isn’t ideal. If you take her name it’ll ruin your reputation.

But.. she’s certain its you she wants. Its you she wants to come home to. Its you she wants to sleep next to every night. And its you she wants to grow old with and feed birds with. She decides to discuss it with you.

Her proposal is less romantic and more straightforward. She knows this is a serious discussion and doesn’t want any miscommunication or misunderstandings. She wants to know if you would take her last name or have her take yours. The decision is yours sure but eitherway she wants only you to be her bride. No one else. No matter how many letters her family sends.

Diluc Ragnvindr

Oh he’s shy! Diluc’s been thinking for so long. How the naked ring finger on your hands seems to irritate him. How he perks up, red and flustered like a schoolgirl when one of his business partners accidentally calls you Mrs Ragnvindr. Said business partner later told him he should consider getting a ring soon. With that he starts planning.

A romantic little date alone at the winery. He takes you out for a picnic near the lake. There is a great deal of preparation taken into this. The entire slime and hilichurl population nearby is turned to zero. Adelinde planting many flowers along the path he’s planning and in the spot he’s picked out. You can be certain Diluc has left nothing to chance here other than your answer. He prepares the finest suit and the finest dress for you. Afterwards there will be a engagement party.

Kuki Shinobu

She too is also more straight forward and less romantic. One night you two were cuddling as she just randomly asked if you want to marry her. Bit jarring sure but hey at least she asked in a semi romantic context.

She handles all the coordination. You two work like a team to save money for a court house wedding with a killer after party. Needless to say the Arataki Gang is heavily involved in throwing the best celebration ever for Kuki Shinobu.

Kujo Sara

For so long Sara believed she was undeserving of love. That her only place in this world was serving the shogun and keeping the peace. But you gave her something other than the shogun to report to. Her home felt more welcoming with you in it. You didn’t change much yet she felt more at ease. She lets you preen her wings, picking out old or damaged feathers to let new ones grow. But unlike the family who took her in you keep her feathers. You say it’s because you can’t throw away something that was apart of her. She secretly likes seeing you collect them. Maybe you’ll even have accessories made out of them and then that sends her to the conclusion that she needs to marry you. Her position is dangerous yes. But she can’t imagine a life without you.

She very much leans to the traditional methods. Asking your parents for their approval. Setting a nice dinner to ask you during.

The ceremony is quite special, she’s a nervous wreck as she worries about anything that could go wrong. But as long as she has you, she won’t have much. To worry about anymore.

Jean Gunnhildr

Oh she’s been planning this for awhile. She’s had the ring ready but she’s been too nervous. The romantic set up she prepares end up not being perfect enough for her so she plays it off. Until you end up proposing yourself, of course she agrees but she’s embarrassed she took too long.

A traditional and beautiful wedding. She ends up letting you plan most of it as she’s already busy but she’s more than eager to help. Its a biggggg event. The acting grandmaster getting married is treated almost like a festival. The people of Mondstadt send you their well wishes and plenty of gifts. To your surprise alot of businesses offered lower price’s because of Jean. She is well beloved by the nation so no doubt is no one going to overprice it. Catering, flowers, decorations, you used the extra money saved to tip the servers well. The Mondstadt Chapel being the location, it was like half of Mondstadt attended. And those who didn’t receive a invite would wait outside. Lord Barbatos seemed to pleased with your union, with clear skies and only a tickling wind. It’s intimidating walking down the isle to see half of Mondstadt looking at you. But when you see just how smitten Jean looks. How she wipes tears as she tries to maintain composure. You don’t feel as scared knowing just how happy she is. She can hardly keep her hands off of you either.

Your honeymoon is in a nice cottage far from the city as you two go together. Lisa left in charge, knights making sure to maintain the perimeter. Its perfect.

Navia

Her proposal will infact be a crazy set up. Sending you on a goose chase to meet with her, each location being a significant place in your relationship. The restaurant you had your first date at, the alley you had your first kiss in, etc etc. the clues hidden closely. Passerby’s participating by helping out or giving you clues as well. And when you finally find her its in Poission, with the flowers blossoming and the wind in your hair. The guards place a pillow on the ground before she gets on one knee, a ring displayed. The ring her father gave her mother. She wants you to have it. To be hers forever and for all eternity.

The wedding is no less complicated. Creative decorations, dozens of desserts, etc. the macaroons decorated to look like either yours or her face. The cake is beautiful. Youve never felt so pretty as when she takes your hand and showers you in praises that would have you marry again if you could. Just the look in her eyes alone has you under a spell. Pure and raw devotion. A lone tear as she knows she’ll never be alone again. Four seats are left empty. Two for her parents. Two for Melus and Silver. But she knows they’re cheering from the grave as she pulls you in for another kiss and another dance. Navia has been through so much heartbreak. You can tell she’s pained at the fact she cannot do her own father daughter dance, not with her dad or Melus. So you make extra sure to be close. But you… all dressed in white… its a great distraction for her. Reassuring her that she’ll never be alone again.

Clorinde

She is a sappy but subtle person. She goes through the effort of the surprise. Making sure you would say yes though. She prepares only the best, a reservation in a private table, the best foods for you to stuff yourself with. She smiles slightly wiping your face herself. The ring is hidden in a cake, with the box sitting ontop. Protected from the icing. You recognize it immediately.

She’d likely prefer a more small wedding. If you want something big then she’ll compromise but for the most part it is mostly close friends and relatives. Clorinde goes through the typical groom and bride stuff where she avoids seeing you in your dress. Walking in to your dressing room, blindfolded to give you a kiss to reassure you everything is fine. She has the finest of everything picked out. No accidents allowed. Her sword is also still hidden on her person at all times just in case. By the end of the reception your lipsticks have blended into one color as she just got too excited.

Arlecchino

She is a romantic at heart yes, but she’s also extremely business minded. She will make her intentions of marriage clear to you. Presenting the pros of it. She’s relieved when you agree but she decided to stage a proper proposal randomly. She wants to surprise you but not too much. There’s some red herrings for you for a little bit. False headings. Until Lyney and Lynette perform a private little magic show in which she magically appears to slip the ring on your finger. Of course the children are absolutely delighted!

The wedding happens in two parts. There’s the business one. With her harbinger colleagues and others. You got to meet the Tsarsita who bestows you with her blessing, a nerve wracking ordeal indeed. You spend the entire day at Arlecchino’s side trying to dodge the confusing questions the harbingers ask. They feel oh so scary but fear not, for she will not stand to watch her beloved wife be intimidated. If they get out of line she will not hesitate to put them back in their place.

The second one is for the orphanage. All of her children called to attend in the biggest ceremony. A large celebration filled with warmth and joy for you. Your family and friends can come to this one and only this one. It’s something you actually were more than fine with considering her colleagues. The children are so very happy to see their father so happy too. Her hand never leaves your side. You dance until your feet are sore. Unfortunately you teo don’t get to have a honeymoon but the kids will make sure you have no chores for a week straight while you and your husband wife relax.

[minhosbitterriver]

💻 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol and they’re your fanboys.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 12.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ You guys should know that I am a firm believer that these boys would be so dorky if they weren't idols — well, dorkier than they already are, honestly. This piece was requested by a lovely Anon! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! Please enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N is an idol, the members of Enhypen are your fanboys finally getting you to acknowledge their existence one way or another, it's all just very cute honestly, Jungwon and Riki don't meet you in person but they still lose their minds over it, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

All of the members are found below the cut!

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

Heeseung sat at the edge of his bed, the dim light casting a gentle glow upon his contemplative figure. His fingers, delicate yet reverent, traced the edges of the well-worn scrapbook that lay open before him. This cherished volume, a tapestry of memories meticulously compiled over the years, held within its pages a mosaic of his unwavering admiration. It brimmed with a kaleidoscope of photographs, clippings, and handwritten notes, each piece meticulously documenting the journey of his favorite idol—none other than you.

He recalled the precise moment when his world had been irrevocably altered. It was on the eve of your debut, and there, amid the swirling anticipation and the haze of his youthful excitement, your voice had first reached his ears. It was a sound both ethereal and powerful, a melody that wove itself into the very fabric of his being. From that instant, Heeseung was ensnared by the magnetism of your presence. He had watched, spellbound, as you evolved from a burgeoning talent into a celebrated artist, each phase of your journey captured and immortalized within the pages of his scrapbook.

Tonight was imbued with a sense of magic and anticipation that seemed almost palpable. Heeseung, a dreamer in the truest sense, had finally managed to secure a coveted ticket to your fan meeting—a wish he had harbored fervently since the inception of his admiration for you. The moment was the culmination of countless hopes and whispered promises to himself.

As he navigated his way through the bustling streets toward the venue, his heart danced with a symphony of excitement and nervous energy. Each step felt like a step toward a long-awaited destiny, a convergence of past dreams and present reality. The evening air was crisp, carrying with it the faint murmur of fellow fans, their voices mingling in a harmonious chorus of shared anticipation.

Clutching his treasured scrapbook tightly, as though it were a talisman of his devotion, Heeseung took a steadying breath. The pages within were a testament to his journey alongside yours, a journey now culminating in this singular, momentous occasion. He joined the serpentine line of eager fans, each person a reflection of his own fervent longing, all awaiting the cherished moment when they would come face-to-face with you.

The room vibrated with a palpable energy, a living, breathing entity fueled by the collective enthusiasm of the gathered fans. Conversations swirled like a vibrant tapestry of shared experiences and heartfelt recollections, each voice contributing to the rich symphony of admiration that filled the air.

In this dynamic atmosphere, Heeseung, a seasoned devotee whose affection for you had long been unwavering, naturally assumed the role of storyteller. His presence was a comforting beacon for the newer fans, a guide through the labyrinth of your artistic journey. With an air of gentle authority, he began weaving tales of your early days, his voice imbued with a warmth that spoke of deep, personal connection.

He unfolded his beloved scrapbook with reverent care, revealing its pages one by one. Each page was a canvas of nostalgia, adorned with a mosaic of photos capturing the essence of your first performance, the raw, unguarded moments during concerts, and the newspaper clippings that chronicled your ascent to stardom. The images told a story of transformation and triumph, each snapshot a frozen moment of time that illustrated your remarkable rise. As Heeseung shared these treasures, his eyes sparkled with the joy of reminiscing, his words painting a vivid portrait of your evolution that captivated the newer fans, drawing them into the rich tapestry of your shared history.

When the moment arrived for Heeseung to finally meet you, his heart pounded with a fervent rhythm, echoing the excitement that surged through his veins. As he stepped forward, the world seemed to narrow down to the singular focus of your radiant presence.

You looked up from behind the table, your eyes brightening with a warm, welcoming smile that seemed to illuminate the room. The recognition in your gaze was immediate and profound, as your eyes fell upon the familiar scrapbook cradled in his hands. The tender acknowledgment in your expression conveyed an unspoken connection, bridging the gap between your storied past and this intimate, cherished encounter.

"Hello," Heeseung began, his voice carrying a steady confidence that belied the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. The words emerged with a sincere warmth, as if each syllable was carefully crafted to convey the depth of his feelings.

"I’m Heeseung," he continued, offering a small, genuine smile. "I’ve been a devoted fan since your very debut." His gaze lingered on you, revealing in his eyes the unwavering admiration and respect that had grown with each passing year.

Your eyes traveled over the scrapbook, a look of genuine awe and recognition crossing your face. The corners of your mouth lifted in an appreciative smile as you took the cherished book from Heeseung’s hands.

"Wow, Heeseung, this is truly incredible," you remarked, your voice infused with admiration. You began to gently turn the pages, each delicate motion revealing the meticulously curated moments of your journey. "You've captured every detail with such care," you continued, your fingers brushing over the images and notes. The sincerity in your tone spoke volumes, reflecting not only your gratitude but also the profound impact of his devotion.

Heeseung nodded, a proud and heartfelt smile unfolding across his face. The expression was a testament to his deep appreciation and respect for you, his admiration evident in every line of his features.

"You’ve been an immense source of inspiration to me," he began, his voice rich with emotion. "Witnessing your growth and the way you've triumphed over challenges has been a beacon of hope during my own difficult times. I wanted to ensure that other fans could share in that journey as well." His words carried the weight of genuine gratitude, reflecting the profound impact your perseverance and success had on his life.

You lifted your gaze from the scrapbook, your eyes meeting his with a depth of sincerity that spoke volumes. The warmth in your expression was a gentle reflection of the gratitude swelling within you.

"Thank you, Heeseung," you said softly, your voice imbued with heartfelt emotion. "Your support means more to me than words can express. It's dedicated fans like you who make all the effort and hard work truly worthwhile." The weight of your words hung in the air, a testament to the profound connection between an artist and the cherished individuals who help sustain their passion.

As you delicately signed your name on the scrapbook, Heeseung felt a surge of gratitude and profound fulfillment wash over him. The ink of your signature seemed to crystallize the moment, transforming his dreams into a tangible reality.

Meeting you and hearing those heartfelt words had surpassed even his most cherished aspirations. The realization that his steadfast support had made a meaningful impact on your journey was a treasure he would hold close to his heart. It was a moment of deep resonance, one that would linger with him as a cherished memory, a testament to the power of unwavering devotion and connection.

As Heeseung exited the venue, a radiant smile stretched across his face, one that seemed to capture the essence of his joy. The thrill of the evening lingered like a warm embrace, and he found himself buoyed by a sense of deep contentment.

He knew that his commitment to supporting you would remain steadfast, unwavering through every trial and triumph. The thought of sharing your story with new fans and enriching his cherished scrapbook with fresh memories filled him with a profound sense of purpose. The acknowledgment of his dedication had bestowed upon him a moment of rare significance—one that he would hold dear, a luminous beacon of inspiration to treasure for a lifetime.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

Jay fidgeted with his earbuds, delicately positioning them as he allowed your music to wash over him, a soothing cascade of sound that enveloped his senses. The anticipation in the cool night air was palpable, a faint electric hum that seemed to dance through the crowd gathered outside the concert venue. Each note, each lyric was a comforting balm as he stood in line, his excitement palpable and nearly tangible.

He had waited for this night with bated breath, the days leading up to it marked with eager anticipation and a fervent excitement that had grown since he first secured his ticket. The prospect of witnessing your live performance was a thrill that had consumed him for months. Jay was not the kind of fan to lose himself in fervent adoration; rather, he embraced a more laid-back dedication. His passion manifested in the quiet diligence of streaming your songs and videos, ensuring that your place atop the charts remained steadfast.

His dedication went beyond mere listening; it extended to the art of maximizing streaming efforts. Jay found a certain joy in sharing his knowledge, guiding fellow fans on how to elevate their own streaming practices. For him, each play and each view was a small, yet significant tribute to your artistry, a testament to the role he played in the symphony of your success.

The anticipation in the crowd was almost electric, a current that seemed to weave through the throngs of eager fans, sparking whispers and hushed conversations. Jay, however, exuded an aura of tranquility, his outward calm a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that rippled around him. Beneath his serene exterior, his excitement simmered, a deep well of anticipation that kept him composed.

As the doors to the concert venue finally swung open, it was as if a collective breath was held, only to be released in a surge of movement. Jay stepped forward with purposeful strides, navigating the sea of enthusiastic fans until he reached his seat. It was perfectly positioned, offering an unobstructed view of the stage where the night’s magic would soon unfold.

The atmosphere inside was a palpable buzz of exhilaration, a harmonious blend of voices and laughter that filled the space with a symphony of excitement. Fans exchanged gleeful glances and shared snippets of their own anticipation, their voices blending into a crescendo of collective joy. The air was thick with the promise of the performance to come, and Jay, nestled in his prime spot, allowed himself to bask in the electric ambiance, savoring the moment before the music began.

As the lights in the arena dimmed, a hushed reverence fell over the crowd, a moment suspended in breathless anticipation. The first ethereal notes of your opening song began to ripple through the space, a delicate wave of sound that immediately swept Jay into its embrace. The thrill of excitement surged through him like a living pulse, a vibrant crescendo that was both exhilarating and profound.

Experiencing you live was a revelation, an intoxicating contrast to the solitary pleasure of streaming your videos at home. The raw energy of the performance, the sheer magnetism of your presence on stage, transformed the music into a living, breathing entity that resonated deep within him. Jay was no longer just a spectator; he was an integral part of the spectacle.

He became fully immersed in the experience, his voice blending seamlessly with the chorus of fellow fans, each note of the song drawing him further into the enchanting world you created. His lightstick, a beacon of glowing color, moved rhythmically in tandem with the sea of lights around him, a pulsating testament to the collective euphoria that enveloped the arena. The moment was a symphony of sight and sound, a vivid tapestry of emotions that made every second of the performance a cherished memory in the making.

Halfway through the concert, the rhythm of the performance paused, giving way to a moment of intimate connection between you and your audience. As you took a breath and glanced out across the sea of faces, your eyes shimmered with a depth of gratitude that seemed to light up the entire arena. The energy of the crowd seemed to pulse in response, a living, breathing testament to the bond you had forged with your fans.

You spoke to them with heartfelt sincerity, your voice imbued with warmth as you thanked everyone for their unwavering support. Each word you uttered was like a gentle caress, weaving through the crowd and touching each individual. Jay, standing amidst the throng, felt a profound swell of pride well up within him. It was a quiet but powerful emotion, knowing that his contributions, however modest, had played a role in this vibrant celebration of your success.

The moment was a delicate dance of appreciation and connection, a fleeting yet timeless exchange that made Jay's heart swell with a deep sense of fulfillment. In that instant, amidst the shared joy and collective euphoria, he felt an unspoken bond with you and the thousands of other fans who had gathered to share in the magic of the night.

As the concert approached its final moments, the air thickened with anticipation. You began to perform Jay’s favorite song, the one that had become the soundtrack to his own personal journey. As the first notes floated into the air, Jay closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the music. Each melody and lyric seemed to envelop him like a familiar embrace, resonating with the countless hours he had dedicated to streaming this very track.

The music wove through him, a rich tapestry of sound that stirred deep within his soul. It was as though every chord and rhythm had been crafted specifically for him, echoing the joy and dedication he had invested in following your career. The experience was transcendent, a moment of perfect harmony where time seemed to stand still.

When the song reached its crescendo and the final notes gently faded into silence, the crowd erupted in a fervent burst of applause, a collective roar of appreciation that reverberated through the arena. Jay's hands instinctively joined the chorus of clapping, his heart swelling with a profound sense of fulfillment and connection. In that shared moment of jubilation, surrounded by the vibrant energy of fellow fans, Jay felt an overwhelming surge of happiness, a bittersweet reminder of the magical night he had been fortunate to experience.

As the final encore drew to a close and the last notes of the evening faded into the night, the concert hall began to empty, a gradual exodus of reluctant fans leaving behind the echoes of an unforgettable performance. Jay, however, chose to linger, his steps slow and deliberate as he remained in his seat, unwilling to let the magic of the night slip away just yet. The atmosphere, still tinged with the residual glow of stage lights and the faint scent of excitement, seemed to pulse with a gentle reverence.

He took a deep breath, allowing the serenity of the moment to wash over him. For Jay, the night had been more than just an event; it was the culmination of countless hours of support, a testament to his unwavering dedication from afar. Seeing you live had transformed his abstract admiration into a vivid, tangible experience, a realization of the dreams he had quietly nurtured.

The concert had been a symphony of emotions, each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of his devotion. As he looked around at the now-emptying hall, the memories of the evening replayed in his mind like a cherished melody. Jay savored the lingering warmth of the night, a profound satisfaction settling in his heart as he reflected on the incredible journey that had brought him to this perfect, fleeting moment of connection.

As Jay made his way toward the exit, he cast a casual glance toward the stage door, where he noticed a small cluster of fans gathered with hopeful anticipation. Their presence was a quiet testament to the lingering magic of the night. Intrigued, he decided to join them, even though he held no grand expectations. The concert had already fulfilled him in ways he hadn’t imagined, and he was content to leave with the memories of the evening still fresh in his heart.

To his astonishment, the quiet buzz of conversation among the remaining fans was soon interrupted by a burst of excitement. You emerged from behind the stage door, a vision of warmth and grace amidst the dimly lit backdrop. Your face was illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to capture the essence of the night’s enchantment. You waved at the gathered fans, your gesture a gentle acknowledgment of their unwavering support.

The scene was bathed in a soft, lingering light as you made your way towards the crowd, and Jay's heart skipped a beat. Seeing you in person, so close and so genuine, added a new layer of magic to the evening. The brief encounter, filled with your sincere appreciation and the shared joy of the fans, became a cherished epilogue to the night’s spectacular performance.

Jay's heart fluttered with a sudden surge of excitement as you made your way toward the group, each step drawing you closer in a cascade of anticipation. Your approach was deliberate and gracious, as you took the time to engage with each fan, your presence a radiant blend of warmth and genuine appreciation.

When you finally reached him, the moment seemed to stretch into a beautiful eternity. Jay fought to maintain his composure, though his nerves danced with barely contained enthusiasm. He managed a calm, albeit slightly tremulous, smile as he introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jay,” he said, his voice steady but infused with an unmistakable hint of awe. “I’m—uh, I’m always streaming your songs and videos. Tonight was incredible.”

His words, though simple, were a heartfelt tribute to the night’s splendor. The sincerity in his tone mirrored the admiration he had carried for so long, and in that fleeting exchange, the distance between fan and artist dissolved into a shared moment of connection and reverence.

You beamed with a radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the space around you, your eyes sparkling with genuine warmth and gratitude. “Thank you, Jay,” you said, your voice soft yet filled with heartfelt sincerity. The words flowed effortlessly, each syllable a testament to the deep appreciation you felt.

Your gaze held a tender, almost ethereal quality as you continued, “I’m truly grateful for all the support. It means so much to know that you enjoy the music and that you’re willing to contribute in such a meaningful way.” The sincerity in your tone and the genuine light in your eyes conveyed a deep, personal connection, making Jay feel as though his dedication had not only been acknowledged but cherished. In that moment, the bond between artist and fan was beautifully reaffirmed, a shared appreciation that transcended words.

Jay felt a profound surge of warmth at your words, a gentle rush of emotion that enveloped him in a cocoon of happiness. The sincerity of your appreciation struck a deep chord within him, igniting a sense of fulfillment that radiated from his core.

“I’ll keep doing it,” he said, his voice imbued with a quiet but resolute determination. “Your music is honestly the best thing to ever happen.” Each word was carefully chosen, a heartfelt declaration of the impact your artistry had made on his life. His statement was not merely a tribute but a promise, a reflection of the deep connection he felt with your work and the unwavering commitment to continue supporting it with all his heart.

You nodded with a graceful, appreciative smile, the gesture accompanied by a soft, melodic giggle that seemed to carry the warmth of the evening. The sound was a delicate, playful note that danced in the air, a reflection of the genuine gratitude you felt.

“Thank you for everything, Jay,” you said, your voice imbued with a tender sincerity. The words flowed with a natural ease, each syllable a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support. In that moment, the exchange between you was a beautiful blend of appreciation and connection, a shared understanding that transcended the boundaries of the stage and reached into the heart of the evening’s magic.

As you gracefully moved on to greet the other fans, Jay was enveloped by a deep and resonant sense of fulfillment. The concert had been a spectacular crescendo, and the brief, heartfelt interaction with you had imbued the evening with an added dimension of personal significance. It was a reaffirmation of his unwavering commitment to supporting your music, a promise of loyalty and admiration that had been solidified in the warmth of your gratitude.

As he began his journey home, a contented smile lingered on his lips. He slipped his earbuds back in, the familiar comfort of the soft cushion against his ears a prelude to the solace he sought. With a gentle tap, he played your latest song, letting the melodies cascade through him. The music, already a cherished part of his life, now carried an even deeper resonance, enriched by the vivid memories of the night. Each note seemed to echo with the joy and connection he had experienced, weaving the evening’s magic into the very fabric of the music he held so dear.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Jake's phone erupted with a relentless flurry of notifications, its screen a tapestry of flashing icons and vibrating alerts. Each buzz was a herald of the burgeoning frenzy surrounding your latest release, a wildfire of excitement that spread across the digital expanse. His fan account, a veritable beacon of devotion, crackled with activity as the news of your new work ignited the fervor of your admirers.

In the realm of social media, Jake was a maestro, orchestrating a symphony of online enthusiasm with meticulous precision. His virtual domain was a haven of vibrant promotion, where he crafted elaborate posts to celebrate your artistry and engaged in fervent discussions to elevate your presence. He was a tireless guardian of your reputation, deftly defending you against any shadow of criticism that dared to cast itself upon your name.

Hours blurred into days as Jake immersed himself in the art of digital advocacy. He meticulously arranged streaming parties that thrummed with collective excitement and mobilized legions of supporters to cast their votes in your favor. Each moment spent was a testament to his unwavering commitment, as he channeled his energy into ensuring that your achievements resonated far and wide.

One serene afternoon, as Jake meandered through his social media feed with a sense of routine calm, a new notification flickered to life on his screen. It was an announcement for an exclusive contest, offering a coveted prize: a chance for fans to meet you in person and partake in a thrilling game during an upcoming interview. The message was a sparkling beacon amidst the digital noise, and Jake's heart leapt in his chest, racing with an exhilarating burst of anticipation.

With a sense of urgency and determination, Jake plunged into action. His fingers danced across the screen as he entered the contest, his movements fueled by a fervent hope and a deep-seated desire. The stakes were high, and he could almost envision the opportunity as if it were a tangible, glittering prize just within reach.

Not content to keep this golden chance to himself, Jake set about rallying his fellow fans with a fervent zeal. He shared the contest announcement across his fan accounts, crafting messages that bristled with enthusiasm and encouragement. His call to action was a clarion cry for participation, urging others to join in and seize the chance to connect with you, as he had. The air was electric with shared excitement, each notification a testament to the collective dream of meeting you in person.

A week later, Jake's phone rang with an unfamiliar number, its jarring ring cutting through the quietude of his day. With a flutter of nervous anticipation, he answered, his hand trembling slightly as he lifted the phone to his ear. On the other end, a voice, vibrant with uncontainable enthusiasm, greeted him with words that sent a shiver of disbelief and elation down his spine: he had won the contest.

The news was a cascade of joy that surged through Jake's veins, electrifying every fiber of his being. His heart pounded in a rhythm of pure exhilaration, and he struggled to hold back the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. As he expressed his heartfelt gratitude to the caller, his mind raced with the thrilling possibilities that lay ahead.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jake rushed to share the incredible news with his online friends. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he crafted messages that crackled with infectious excitement, eager to spread the joy and invite them to revel in his triumph. The virtual space was soon abuzz with celebratory fervor, each message a ripple in the sea of shared elation, as Jake's news became a beacon of collective joy among his fellow fans.

On the day of the interview, Jake approached the studio with a heart that danced between nerves and exhilaration. Each step felt like a journey through a landscape of anticipation, the gravity of the moment settling over him like a shroud of shimmering possibility. Years of dedicated promotion and fervent support had led him to this threshold, and the weight of it all made his pulse quicken with a heady mix of excitement and trepidation.

As he entered the studio, the bustling environment greeted him with a warmth that was both soothing and energizing. The staff, their smiles genuine and eyes twinkling with camaraderie, enveloped him in a welcoming embrace. They guided him through the labyrinth of the studio, their voices imbued with the promise of an unforgettable experience.

Jake listened intently as they outlined the details of the segment, each word painting a vivid picture of what was to come. The centerpiece of the evening was a live game, an interactive moment where he would finally connect with you face-to-face. The thought of sharing this experience with you, after so many years of virtual connection, ignited a thrill within him, and he found himself eagerly anticipating the chance to step into this shared moment of excitement and connection.

As the interview commenced, Jake lingered on the sidelines, his heart thudding with the rhythmic urgency of a drum. Each beat seemed to echo the anticipation that hung palpably in the air. The studio's vibrant energy enveloped him, a whirlwind of lights and sounds that intensified his sense of expectation.

When the moment arrived and the host’s voice rang out, introducing him with a flourish, Jake drew a deep, steadying breath. With a resolve that masked his inner tumult, he stepped onto the set. The audience’s applause greeted him like a warm embrace, their clapping a chorus of encouragement that surged around him, amplifying the thrill of the moment. As he walked forward, the atmosphere crackled with an electric blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, each step bringing him closer to the realization of a long-held dream.

You turned towards him, your face illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire studio. The warmth and sincerity in your eyes made the moment feel suspended in time.

"Hi, Jake!" you greeted him with a cheerful exuberance, your voice carrying a melodic lilt that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. "It's great to meet you," you continued, your words flowing effortlessly and imbued with genuine delight. The connection in that instant was electric, as if the years of virtual admiration had culminated in this shared, unforgettable moment.

Jake's smile, though brimming with excitement, was tempered with a careful composure. He met your gaze with a mixture of awe and admiration. "Hi," he said, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. "I’m a huge fan."

Your response was immediate and heartfelt, a genuine delight shining in your eyes. "Thank you so much for your support," you replied, your voice warm and sincere. "It means a lot." The simplicity of your words was underscored by the depth of emotion conveyed, and Jake felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy. In that exchange, the connection between fan and idol transcended the boundaries of screen and stage, becoming a shared moment of authentic appreciation.

The host's voice rang out, rich with enthusiasm as they outlined the rules of the game. It was a lively trivia challenge centered around your illustrious career, a test of knowledge designed to celebrate your achievements. Jake felt a surge of confidence, his pulse quickening with the thrill of the impending challenge. He had immersed himself in every detail of your journey, his knowledge deep and comprehensive.

As the game commenced, Jake's well-honed expertise began to shine through. Each answer he provided was delivered with the assurance of someone who had followed your career with unwavering devotion. Your laughter, bright and infectious, filled the air as you cheered him on. The joy and admiration in your eyes were unmistakable, and it was clear that his dedication and passion had left a lasting impression on you.

As the game drew to a close, Jake emerged victorious by a commanding margin, his triumph a testament to his fervent admiration and meticulous knowledge. The host’s voice rang out with genuine congratulations, the applause from the audience swelling like a wave of collective appreciation.

You stepped forward with a smile that radiated warmth and gratitude. In your hands, you held a signed album, its cover gleaming under the studio lights. As you presented it to Jake, your words flowed with heartfelt sincerity. "You're amazing, Jake," you said, your tone infused with genuine admiration. "Thank you for everything you do." The album, a tangible symbol of your appreciation, was a fitting end to a moment that celebrated both his dedication and your mutual connection.

Jake was overcome by a swell of emotion, his voice trembling slightly with sincerity. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his words imbued with a heartfelt promise. "I'll keep supporting you no matter what." The depth of his commitment was clear, a testament to his unwavering admiration.

As the interview concluded, a brief window of private time opened up between you. The studio, now quieter and more intimate, felt like a cocoon of shared experience. You turned to him with a radiant smile, your eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "I had a lot of fun playing with you, Jake," you said, your voice warm and infused with a touch of playful admiration. "I’m so impressed you beat me." Your words, spoken with genuine appreciation, underscored the camaraderie and connection that had blossomed between you during the game.

Jake’s laughter bubbled up with a sense of deep satisfaction, his heart swelling with fulfillment. "I may or may not run an account or two dedicated to you," he confessed, his voice tinged with playful secrecy. "You’re just such an inspiration for me." His cheeks flushed with a warm blush, a vivid testament to the joy and pride he felt in that moment.

Your smile broadened, radiating a glow of genuine warmth and appreciation. “I really appreciate you, Jake. So much,” you replied, your words like a soothing balm to his eager heart. The sincerity in your voice resonated deeply, making the moment even more memorable.

As Jake exited the studio, his heart brimmed with a sense of completeness. Meeting you had surpassed even his loftiest dreams, and the encounter had only fueled his devotion. With a renewed fervor, he prepared to champion your cause with even greater zeal. On his journey home, he crafted a heartfelt message for his fan accounts, pouring out his gratitude and enthusiasm. He shared the transformative experience with his fellow fans, encouraging them to support you with the same passion and dedication that had driven him all along.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Sunghoon adjusted his jacket one last time, meticulously smoothing the fabric as he scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. The jacket, a masterpiece of sleek black with intricate embroidery, was a testament to your signature style from a recent performance that had left a lasting impression on him. Each stitch seemed to echo the haunting melodies of your music, weaving a connection between fashion and art that he found mesmerizing.

He had spent weeks scouring boutiques and online shops, determined to find a jacket that mirrored yours with precise accuracy. The search had been relentless, driven by a deep admiration for both your music and your fashion sense. To Sunghoon, this jacket was more than just an article of clothing; it was a symbol of his dedication and a tribute to the artistry he so deeply respected.

As he fastened the buttons, memories of countless nights spent streaming your songs and watching your performances flooded his mind. The rhythms and lyrics had become a part of him, ingrained in his soul after hours of listening on repeat. Each beat, each note, resonated within him until he could replay them perfectly in his head, as if your voice had become his own inner soundtrack.

The mirror reflected not just his image, but also the transformation he had undergone. In that moment, he wasn’t just Sunghoon; he was a reflection of the music and style that had inspired him, a living homage to the artist he revered. With a final, confident glance, he stepped out of his apartment, ready to carry the essence of your art into the world.

Today was a day unlike any other, a day that held the promise of a dream coming true. Sunghoon clutched the precious ticket to your fan meeting, the golden key to an encounter he had longed for. This rare opportunity to meet you in person set his heart racing with a thrilling blend of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As he made his way to the venue, each step felt charged with electricity. The cityscape blurred around him, the usual hum of life fading into the background as his mind focused solely on the upcoming moment. The fan meeting was more than an event; it was a chance to connect with the artist who had profoundly influenced his world.

In preparation for this special occasion, Sunghoon had meticulously crafted his appearance, choosing an outfit that echoed your style while reflecting his own dedication. Every detail, from the crisp lines of his tailored jacket to the subtle accessories, was selected with the hope of catching your eye. He had spent countless hours perfecting his look, ensuring that it embodied the essence of your artistic vision.

As he approached the venue, the reality of the moment began to sink in. The crowd of fans gathered outside shared his enthusiasm, their voices a chorus of shared admiration. But for Sunghoon, this experience was intensely personal. He felt a connection to you through your music and fashion, and today, he hoped to express that bond in person.

With each passing moment, the anticipation built, his heart pounding in rhythm with the excitement that filled the air. Sunghoon took a deep breath, ready to step into a world where his dreams and reality would collide, where the admiration he held in his heart would finally find its voice.

The venue buzzed with anticipation, a symphony of eager murmurs and shared excitement filling the air. Fans poured into the room, their faces alight with anticipation and joy. Sunghoon navigated through the sea of people, finally finding his seat amidst the throng. He glanced around, recognizing a few familiar faces from social media, their expressions mirroring his own eager anticipation. Yet, despite the familiar faces, his focus remained unwaveringly on the stage, where you would soon make your grand entrance.

The room seemed to pulse with collective energy, the excitement almost tangible as fans shared stories, laughter, and their mutual admiration for you. Sunghoon's heart beat in time with the buzz of the crowd, a rhythm that underscored his own fervent anticipation. He adjusted his jacket, a symbol of his dedication, feeling the fabric against his skin as a reminder of the momentous occasion.

As the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. Every eye was trained on the stage, every breath held in unison. Then, the curtains parted, and you walked out, a vision of grace and warmth. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sound rising like a tidal wave, enveloping the room in a cascade of adoration.

Sunghoon felt his heart race, the thrill of the moment washing over him. He watched intently as you greeted the audience, your smile radiant and welcoming. The way you moved, the way you carried yourself, it was as if the essence of your music and persona had materialized before his eyes. Every gesture, every word, seemed to resonate deeply with the audience, binding them together in a shared moment of pure connection.

In that instant, as you stood on the stage, Sunghoon felt a profound sense of awe. This was the culmination of his admiration and dedication, a fleeting yet unforgettable moment where the distance between fan and artist dissolved, leaving only the magic of shared experience.

The fan meeting commenced with a lively Q&A session, the air brimming with curiosity and excitement as fans eagerly posed their questions. The room buzzed with the hum of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter and applause. Following the Q&A, the atmosphere shifted into a more playful tone with interactive games, drawing the crowd even closer together in their shared joy.

As the event unfolded, Sunghoon's anticipation grew with each passing moment. The rhythm of activities seemed to accelerate, and before he knew it, his turn to meet you arrived, catching him off guard with its swiftness. Rising from his seat, he felt a wave of nervous energy course through him, his hands growing slightly clammy as he approached the stage.

With each step closer, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of excitement and nerves intertwining. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, determined to make the most of this fleeting, yet precious moment. As he ascended the steps to the stage, the world around him seemed to blur, his focus narrowing solely on you.

When he finally stood before you, a breathless anticipation hung in the air. Your eyes lifted to meet his, and a spark of recognition danced within them. The moment your gaze settled on his jacket, your eyes lit up, a warm and genuine smile spreading across your face. The intricate embroidery and sleek design had not gone unnoticed, and the recognition in your eyes sent a thrill through Sunghoon.

The connection was instantaneous, a silent acknowledgment of his dedication and admiration. For Sunghoon, that single moment of recognition felt like a dream realized, a testament to the countless hours spent immersing himself in your music and style. The clammy hands and racing heart were now a backdrop to the profound sense of fulfillment and joy that filled him as he stood before you, basking in the shared glow of a moment that transcended the ordinary.

"Hi, I'm Sunghoon," he introduced himself, his voice carrying a blend of shyness and sincerity. A gentle smile played on his lips as he spoke, the culmination of his admiration and anticipation distilled into this single moment. "I've been a fan for a long time."

Your smile widened, radiating warmth and genuine delight as you leaned in, your eyes twinkling with interest. The closeness allowed you to take in the details of his meticulously chosen jacket. "Wow, Sunghoon," you exclaimed, admiration evident in your tone. "You look so handsome in that jacket! It looks exactly like the one I wore."

Your words were a balm to his nerves, each syllable like a note in a melody he had longed to hear. The recognition and praise in your eyes made his heart swell with a mixture of pride and elation. The jacket, which had become a symbol of his dedication, now served as a bridge between you, connecting his admiration to your artistry in a tangible way.

In that moment, the bustling room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in a shared bubble of recognition and mutual appreciation. Sunghoon felt a surge of confidence, his earlier nervousness dissipating in the face of your kind words and warm demeanor. The shy smile on his lips grew, reflecting the joy that now filled his heart.

The exchange, though brief, was imbued with a depth of meaning that words alone could scarcely convey. It was a moment of connection, where fan and artist transcended their roles and met as individuals, each acknowledging the other's presence in a world where art and admiration intertwined.

Sunghoon felt a surge of pride swell within him, his earlier nervousness now replaced by a deep sense of connection. “Thank you. Your style is such an inspiration to me. And your music… I listen to it all the time,” he confessed, his voice brimming with genuine admiration.

You chuckled softly, a sound that resonated with warmth and sincerity. “I’m glad you enjoy it. Just make sure to take breaks so you don’t get sick of it, okay?” The gentle teasing in your tone was both comforting and endearing, bridging the gap between artist and admirer.

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. In that moment, he felt truly seen and understood. “I’ll try. It’s just that your music and style mean so much to me,” he said, his words carrying the weight of countless hours spent immersed in your art.

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder, a gesture of both kindness and acknowledgment. “I appreciate your dedication, Sunghoon. It really means a lot,” you said, your voice imbued with sincerity. The touch was light yet grounding, a tangible connection that left a lasting impression on his heart.

The exchange lingered in the air, a delicate interplay of words and emotions that transcended the ordinary. Sunghoon felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and fulfillment, knowing that his admiration had not only been recognized but also reciprocated. In this brief, beautifully profound moment, the lines between fan and artist blurred, leaving only the pure, unspoken understanding that art, in all its forms, had the power to connect souls.

As you took the photograph and began signing it, Sunghoon felt his nerves gradually settle, the initial flutter of anxiety giving way to a profound sense of calm. The interaction was unfolding in a way that felt far more personal and genuine than he had ever dared to imagine. Each stroke of your pen seemed to bridge the gap between your world and his, transforming a simple autograph into a cherished memory.

When you handed the photo back to him, your smile was radiant and reassuring. “Keep being awesome, Sunghoon,” you said warmly, your voice a soothing balm that enveloped him in a sense of belonging. “And keep sharing your outfits. I love seeing how fans interpret my style.”

The words resonated deeply within him, each syllable a testament to the bond that art and admiration had woven between you. Sunghoon’s heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy, knowing that his dedication and efforts had not only been acknowledged but celebrated. The photograph in his hands was now a symbol of this extraordinary moment, a tangible reminder of the connection that had blossomed between artist and fan.

In that fleeting yet profound exchange, Sunghoon felt seen, appreciated, and understood. Your encouragement was more than just a compliment; it was an affirmation of his own creative expression and a beacon of inspiration that would continue to guide him. As he looked into your eyes, he saw not just an idol, but a kindred spirit who valued and nurtured the shared love of art and fashion.

The room around them seemed to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as the significance of the moment crystallized in his heart. Sunghoon knew that this encounter would remain etched in his memory, a beacon of light and inspiration that he would carry with him always. The photo, now imbued with your words and warmth, became a cherished memento of an experience that transcended the ordinary, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

Sunghoon’s heart soared as he expressed his gratitude to you, his voice carrying the heartfelt sincerity of the moment. With a lingering glance back at the stage, he made his way down, feeling as though he were floating on a cloud. The rest of the fan meeting passed in a blur, a whirlwind of activities and emotions, yet the memory of your kind words and warm smile remained vivid and bright, etched into his mind like a cherished painting.

Leaving the venue, the night air felt crisp and refreshing, a perfect counterpoint to the warmth that still radiated within him. Sunghoon knew that his dedication had paid off in ways he had never imagined. The acknowledgment and connection he had felt were more profound than any fan could hope for, a true testament to the bond between artist and admirer.

That evening, with his heart still brimming with excitement, Sunghoon carefully composed a post for his social media. He shared a picture of his meticulously crafted outfit, capturing the essence of the jacket that had sparked your recognition. In his post, he recounted the experience, describing the magic of the fan meeting and encouraging other fans to keep supporting you with the same passion and dedication.

As he scrolled through the responses, he felt a renewed sense of connection, not only to your music and style but to you as a person. The fan meeting had given him a deeper appreciation for everything you did, a glimpse into the heart and soul behind the art he so admired. The comments from fellow fans created a tapestry of shared love and admiration, weaving a community bound by a mutual appreciation for your artistry.

Later, as he prepared for bed, Sunghoon queued up your latest song, a soft smile spreading across his face as the familiar melody filled the room. Each note seemed to shimmer with new meaning, each lyric resonating with the experiences of the day. Meeting you had infused everything with a fresh sense of wonder and excitement, rekindling his enthusiasm and deepening his connection to your work.

With the music playing softly in the background, he closed his eyes, feeling a profound sense of contentment. He knew he would never truly tire of your songs; each listen was a journey, a renewal of his unwavering dedication. As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with anticipation and curiosity, eager to see what you would create next. The fan meeting had not only been a moment of personal fulfillment but also a promise of continued inspiration and support, a testament to the enduring power of art and connection.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

Seonwoo sat at his desk, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest as he fixated on the countdown timer ticking away on his computer screen. Each passing second brought him closer to a moment he had long fantasized about: a fan call with you, his cherished idol. The anticipation was almost palpable, making the air in his room feel electric with excitement and nervous energy.

His room was a vivid testament to his unwavering devotion. The walls were adorned with an array of your posters, each one capturing a different facet of your career and beauty. Shelves brimming with signed and limited edition merchandise showcased his dedication; every item was a precious relic, carefully preserved and displayed. Even his computer bore evidence of his admiration, filled with meticulously organized folders of your photos, videos, and achievements. Each file represented countless hours spent curating a digital shrine to the person who inspired him most.

As the seconds dwindled, Seonwoo took a deep breath, his eyes wandering over the familiar, comforting chaos of his sanctuary. The posters seemed to smile down at him, offering silent encouragement. The room, once a mere collection of his interests, now felt like a sacred space where his dreams were about to intertwine with reality. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement almost too much to contain, but his spirit soared with the thought that in just a few moments, he would finally get to speak to you, the idol who had unknowingly shaped so much of his world.

When the timer finally struck zero, the screen shimmered to life, and there you were, as if emerging from a dream. Seonwoo's breath hitched in his throat, an almost palpable sensation of wonder coursing through him. Your face, illuminated by a soft, ethereal glow, appeared on the screen, your features radiating warmth and charm.

The sight of you—so vividly present in his world—was almost too incredible to fathom. Your smile, a gentle curve of happiness, seemed to bridge the gap between reality and his wildest fantasies. For a moment, Seonwoo was lost in the magic of it all, struggling to grasp that the person who had inspired his dreams was now smiling directly at him from the other side of the screen.

"Hi, Seonwoo!" you greeted him, your voice ringing with a vibrant cheerfulness that seemed to brighten the room. Your words, imbued with genuine warmth, carried a melodic lilt that made Seonwoo’s heart skip a beat. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you," you continued, your smile expanding to showcase a glimmer of sincerity that made the moment feel all the more magical.

Your presence, though mediated by the screen, was imbued with an inviting aura. The way you spoke, with a natural grace and enthusiasm, created an intimate connection that transcended the digital divide. For Seonwoo, it was as if the space between them had vanished, leaving only the heartfelt exchange and the thrill of meeting the person who had been a beacon of inspiration in his life.

Seonwoo took a deep breath, the weight of his nerves pressing heavily on his chest. He forced a smile, trying to steady the fluttering excitement within him. "Hi!" he managed, his voice a mix of awe and nervousness. "I can hardly believe this is actually happening."

His words tumbled out, tinged with a sincerity that matched the intensity of his feelings. "I'm such a huge fan," he continued, his gaze locked on you, as if trying to memorize every detail of the moment. The sheer enormity of the experience overwhelmed him, but the thrill of finally speaking with you, the person he had admired from afar, was an unforgettable rush that made every anxious flutter worth it.

Your smile broadened, becoming a radiant expression of genuine gratitude. "Thank you!" you said, your voice rich with warmth and sincerity. "I truly appreciate your support."

Your eyes sparkled with a sincere interest as you continued, "How are you doing?" The question was delivered with a gentle kindness that made Seonwoo feel as if your concern extended beyond the confines of the screen. The ease in your tone and the genuine curiosity in your gaze created an atmosphere of intimacy, making the moment feel remarkably personal and heartfelt.

"I'm great now," Seonwoo replied, his voice growing steadier as he began to relax. The initial tremor in his tone gave way to a more composed delivery, his excitement still palpable but softened by a newfound calm. 

"I've immersed myself in every detail of your career and your achievements," he continued, a trace of awe lingering in his words. "I’ve followed you since your debut, watching your journey unfold with a sense of wonder." The depth of his admiration was evident in his gaze, as if each memory of your milestones had woven itself into the fabric of his own life.

"Wow, that's truly amazing!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with heartfelt surprise. A look of genuine emotion softened your features, revealing just how deeply your fan’s dedication resonated with you. Your eyes shone with appreciation, as if the weight of Seonwoo’s unwavering support had touched something profoundly personal within you.

"Your dedication means so much to me," you continued, your tone brimming with warmth and gratitude. With a bright, curious glint in your eye, you leaned slightly forward, eager to engage. "So, what's your favorite song from my newest album?" The question was posed with an earnest interest, inviting Seonwoo to share in the joy of your latest work, and further deepening the bond between you.

Seonwoo's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, his expression lighting up as he spoke. "That's a tough choice," he admitted, his voice reflecting the depth of his admiration. "But if I had to choose, I think my favorite would have to be 'Eternal Echoes.'"

He paused for a moment, choosing his words with care, as if savoring the memories the song evoked. "The lyrics are so profoundly meaningful, each line woven with a resonance that touches the soul," he continued, his tone filled with reverence. "And the melody—it’s simply beautiful. It captivated me completely and struck a chord deep within, making it a song that I find myself returning to time and again."

You nodded with a radiant smile, your eyes alight with genuine pleasure. "I’m so glad to hear that you like 'Eternal Echoes,'" you said, your voice softening with a touch of nostalgia. "It’s actually one of my favorites as well."

A hint of emotion colored your tone as you continued, "I poured a lot of my heart into that song." Your words carried a sense of deep personal connection, as if sharing a piece of your soul through the melody and lyrics. The sincerity in your voice conveyed the dedication and passion you had invested, making the moment feel all the more intimate and special.

Seonwoo cast a thoughtful glance around his room, the vibrant tapestry of his admiration for you spread out before him. Each corner of the space held a cherished piece of memorabilia, a testament to his devotion. He carefully selected a signed album from a neatly organized shelf, its cover shimmering softly in the ambient light.

With a mixture of reverence and excitement, he held it up, his eyes gleaming with pride. "This," he said, his voice tinged with affection, "is one of my most prized possessions." He paused, his gaze lingering on the autograph, a tangible connection to the moment of joy when he had received it. "I was absolutely over the moon when I got your autograph. It felt like a dream come true."

You smiled warmly, a soft glow of genuine affection illuminating your features. "I’m truly glad that it means so much to you," you said, your voice imbued with heartfelt sincerity. The warmth of your smile seemed to envelop the space between you, bridging the gap with an emotional connection.

"It’s fans like you," you continued, your eyes reflecting deep appreciation, "who make everything worthwhile." Your words were a tender acknowledgment, as if you were sharing a secret about the profound impact that loyal supporters have on your journey. The sincerity in your tone and the genuine sparkle in your gaze conveyed just how much you valued the support, making the moment feel exceptionally personal and meaningful.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, like a gentle stream weaving through a lush, verdant landscape. Seonwoo, his initial nervousness now a distant memory, eagerly asked about your creative process, the spark of inspiration behind your work, and the favorite moments that had defined your career.

You listened with genuine interest, your eyes reflecting the depth of your engagement. Each question was met with thoughtful consideration, your answers weaving a tapestry of insights and stories. You spoke of the quiet moments when inspiration struck, the late nights spent perfecting lyrics, and the joyous occasions that had marked your journey. Your voice carried a melodic rhythm, drawing Seonwoo further into the enchanting world of your artistry.

As Seonwoo hung on to every word, his admiration grew even deeper. The exchange was more than just a conversation; it was a heartfelt connection. You expressed your gratitude for his unwavering support, acknowledging how fans like him fueled your passion and drive. The sincerity in your tone made each expression of thanks feel like a precious gift, further cementing the bond between artist and admirer.

As the call neared its end, Seonwoo felt a bittersweet blend of happiness and sadness wash over him. The joy of having spoken to you, his idol, was tempered by the wistful realization that this cherished moment was drawing to a close. His heart swelled with gratitude for the precious opportunity, yet he couldn't help but wish for just a bit more time.

"Thank you so much for this," Seonwoo said, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "It means the world to me."

Your smile softened, imbued with a gentle warmth that seemed to reach through the screen. "Thank you, Seonwoo," you replied, your words sincere and heartfelt. "Your support and dedication are truly inspiring. Keep being awesome, and I'll keep doing my best for fans like you."

The sentiment lingered in the air, wrapping Seonwoo in a comforting embrace. As the screen dimmed and the call ended, he was left with a lasting impression of your kindness and authenticity, a memory he would treasure forever.

The screen slowly faded to black, and Seonwoo leaned back in his chair, a profound sense of fulfillment washing over him. The virtual meeting with you, even through a screen, had surpassed all his hopes and dreams. He felt a warm glow of contentment, knowing that his dedication had been recognized and appreciated. This acknowledgment fueled his passion, igniting a desire to continue supporting you in every way possible.

With his heart still brimming with emotion, Seonwoo turned to his fan accounts, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. He composed a heartfelt message, pouring out his gratitude and excitement. He shared the experience in vivid detail, recounting the precious moments and expressing his appreciation for the opportunity. The response from fellow fans was immediate and enthusiastic, their shared joy amplifying his own.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

Jungwon sat anxiously in his living room, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the arm of the couch. The soft glow of the television cast flickering shadows on the walls, heightening the anticipation that pulsed through him. Tonight was the night. His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves as he kept his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for the moment that could change everything.

The variety show, known for its lively and unpredictable content, was airing tonight's episode, and you were the guest star. For weeks, Jungwon had poured his heart and soul into creating the perfect video, meticulously crafting a fun and unique challenge for you to perform. He had spent countless hours brainstorming, filming, and editing, ensuring every detail was flawless. This wasn't just any video; it was a labor of love, a tribute to his admiration for you.

As one of your biggest fans, Jungwon knew every nuance of your career, every highlight and milestone. He admired your talent, your charisma, and the way you brought joy to your audience. This was his chance to connect with you in a way that went beyond the screen, to share a piece of himself and maybe, just maybe, catch your attention.

The minutes felt like hours as he waited, each passing second intensifying the knot of anticipation in his stomach. He imagined your reaction, the possibility of seeing you smile or laugh because of something he had created. The thought filled him with a warmth that chased away some of the nerves, replacing them with a hopeful excitement.

Finally, the moment arrived. The host announced the next segment, and Jungwon's video began to play. His breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart racing with a blend of fear and exhilaration. This was it—the culmination of his efforts, his passion, and his dreams.

The show began with a burst of vibrant colors and lively music, the kind that set hearts racing with excitement. Jungwon's pulse quickened, each beat echoing the rhythm of the show's energetic theme. As the charismatic host took the stage, Jungwon's grip on the remote tightened, his knuckles turning white.

The host's voice, warm and enthusiastic, filled the room as he introduced the much-anticipated segment where fans could send in challenges for their favorite idols. This was the moment Jungwon had been waiting for, the culmination of weeks of effort and countless hours of perfecting his video. The possibility of his challenge being featured on the show was a dream he had nurtured with care and dedication.

Jungwon's eyes were glued to the screen, his breath coming in shallow, anxious bursts. The room seemed to shrink around him, narrowing his focus to the television as the first fan-submitted video played. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a palpable tension that thrummed through his veins. He could feel the weight of the moment, the delicate balance between hope and uncertainty.

As each video played, Jungwon's heart raced faster, a tumultuous mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, each one a step closer to the possibility of seeing his creation on the screen.

Finally, the host announced the next submission, and the screen flickered to life with a familiar scene. Jungwon's heart leaped into his throat as he recognized his own video, the one he had crafted with such care and passion. A wave of emotions crashed over him—relief, joy, and a renewed sense of anticipation. This was his moment, a chance to connect with his idol in a way he had always dreamed of.

"And now, we have a special challenge sent in by a dedicated fan named Jungwon," the host announced with a flourish, his voice resonating with enthusiasm. Jungwon's heart leaped at the sound of his name, a jolt of exhilaration electrifying his entire being. The moment he had been dreaming of was finally unfolding before his eyes.

The screen transitioned smoothly to his video, the familiar sight filling the room with a vibrant energy. Jungwon watched as his own face appeared on the screen, a mixture of excitement and nervousness visible in his eyes. He began to explain the challenge he had painstakingly crafted: a fun and quirky dance routine, a fusion of creativity and admiration. 

In the video, Jungwon's passion was palpable. His voice, steady yet brimming with enthusiasm, described the dance he had choreographed himself. He had meticulously blended some of your signature moves, the ones that had always captivated him, with innovative new steps he hoped you would enjoy. Each move was chosen with care, designed to showcase your unique style while adding a fresh twist that was distinctly his own.

The camera captured his fluid movements as he demonstrated the routine, each step a testament to his dedication and love for your art. He twirled and leaped with a grace that belied the hours of practice and refinement that had gone into perfecting the choreography. The music pulsed through the speakers, its rhythm aligning with the beat of his heart as he danced with abandon.

Jungwon's hope was that this dance, a heartfelt tribute to you, would not only bring a smile to your face but also forge a connection that transcended the screen. He had poured his soul into every movement, every transition, infusing the routine with his admiration and respect for your talent. As the video played on, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and anticipation, knowing that his creation was now in your hands.

As the video began to play, Jungwon's gaze was locked on your reaction. Every subtle change in your expression was a new chapter in the unfolding narrative of his dreams. You leaned forward, eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement that sent a thrill down his spine. "This looks interesting," you said, your smile radiant and infectious. The warmth in your voice was like a melody, and Jungwon's heart swelled with joy.

The camera captured your every move as you rose gracefully from your seat, your demeanor radiating excitement. You positioned yourself with an air of readiness, your body poised to dance. Jungwon could hardly contain his breath, his excitement mounting with each passing second. The anticipation was palpable, a living, breathing entity that filled the room.

As the music began, you mirrored the moves from his video, your movements a blend of elegance and playful energy. Laughter bubbled from your lips as you navigated the steps, your joy evident in every misstep and triumph. The way you tried to get the steps right, each attempt imbued with determination and delight, made the moment even more enchanting.

The audience erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm a resounding chorus that filled the studio. The host, ever supportive, joined in the encouragement, his voice adding to the lively atmosphere. Jungwon felt a surge of pride swell within him, a tidal wave of emotions that washed over him with an almost overwhelming force. 

He watched as you immersed yourself in the dance, your laughter and smiles a testament to the connection he had hoped to forge. Each move you made, every joyous exclamation, was a validation of his efforts and dreams. In that moment, Jungwon's world seemed to align perfectly, his passion and dedication shining through in the shared experience of his carefully crafted dance routine.

"This is really fun! Jungwon, you did a fantastic job with this choreography," you exclaimed, your voice slightly breathless but filled with genuine admiration. A rosy flush colored your cheeks, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you caught your breath. "I absolutely love it!"

Your words echoed in Jungwon's mind, each syllable a note in a symphony of validation and joy. He could feel his heart swell with pride, the sheer ecstasy of hearing you praise his work enveloping him like a warm embrace. The admiration in your eyes was a shimmering reflection of the effort and passion he had poured into creating the dance routine.

The host, beaming with delight, turned to address the audience. "Looks like Jungwon has a promising future in choreography!" he declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Thank you for sending in such a creative and entertaining challenge."

The applause that followed was thunderous, a wave of appreciation that seemed to lift Jungwon's spirits even higher. He could hardly believe that his creation had not only reached you but had also brought you joy and laughter. The host's words, echoing the sentiment of the moment, felt like a prophecy, a glimpse into a future where his passion for dance could lead to something extraordinary.

Jungwon's mind raced with possibilities, his imagination painting vivid pictures of what could come next. The dream he had nurtured in the quiet moments of practice and creation was now blossoming into reality, each cheer and clap a testament to his talent and hard work. The connection he felt in that instant, not just with you but with everyone who had witnessed the dance, was a beautiful tapestry woven from threads of admiration, creativity, and shared joy.

Jungwon couldn't contain his joy. The sight of you enjoying his challenge and hearing your praise felt like a dream come true. His heart swelled with an indescribable elation, and he quickly grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling with excitement. He posted a clip of the segment on his fan accounts, eager to share this incredible moment with his fellow fans. The response was immediate and overwhelming, a cascade of congratulatory messages and expressions of delight flooding his notifications.

The comments were a chorus of shared joy and admiration. Friends and fans alike marveled at the creativity of his challenge and celebrated the fact that it had been featured on the show. Jungwon felt a profound sense of connection, a bond strengthened by the collective excitement of the fandom. Each notification was a reminder that he was not alone in his admiration for you; he was part of a vibrant community that shared his passion.

As the show continued, his phone buzzed incessantly with messages from friends and fellow fans. The outpouring of support and shared enthusiasm was heartwarming, filling him with a deep sense of pride. Not only had his challenge been showcased, but it had also brought joy to you, making the moment all the more special. The realization that his creation had made an impact on you was a source of immense satisfaction and fulfillment.

Later that night, Jungwon found himself replaying the segment over and over. Each viewing brought a fresh wave of happiness, the smile on his face growing wider with every replay. The experience had exceeded his wildest hopes, igniting a newfound sense of inspiration within him. He felt a burning desire to continue creating, to keep pushing the boundaries of his passion and supporting you in any way he could.

The memory of watching you perform his challenge was a highlight of his journey as a fan, a luminous moment that he knew he would treasure forever. It was a testament to the power of dedication, creativity, and the unbreakable bond between an artist and their admirers. As he drifted off to sleep that night, the smile never left his face, and his heart was full of dreams for what the future might hold.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

Riki sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, the soft glow of his phone illuminating his eager face. His fingers trembled slightly as he clutched the device, heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and excitement. Just moments ago, a notification had appeared on the screen: you had reacted to the dance cover he had posted on TikTok. The realization felt almost surreal.

For weeks, Riki had dedicated countless hours to perfecting the choreography to one of your latest songs. Each movement had been carefully honed, every step imbued with his boundless energy and unwavering passion. The process had been a labor of love, a testament to his admiration for you and your artistry. 

Now, in the quiet sanctity of his room, he found himself confronted with the astonishing truth: his idol had seen his work. The walls around him seemed to pulse with the same rhythm that had driven his practice, as if sharing in his triumph. The air was thick with the echoes of his dedication, a tangible reminder of the countless nights spent rehearsing, perfecting, and dreaming.

As he sat there, the magnitude of the moment washed over him. It was as if the universe had conspired to align his efforts with a dream come true, a beacon of recognition shining brightly in his life. The world outside might have remained unchanged, but within the confines of his room, everything felt different—charged with possibility and the promise of what could be.

With a swift, almost reverent motion, he opened the app, his fingers dancing with a blend of urgency and anticipation. He navigated to your profile, each tap of the screen a deliberate step towards the moment he had been waiting for. There it was—a duet video that had emerged from the digital ether, a striking juxtaposition of his dance cover alongside your reaction.

As he tapped on the video, his heart quickened, a rhythmic drumbeat echoing his mounting excitement. The screen came alive with the vivid, familiar tableau of his own room, now transformed into a stage of personal significance. The opening notes of the song filled the space, the melody unfurling like a delicate ribbon, weaving through the air as he began the intricate routine he had labored over.

The choreography that had once been a solitary endeavor now pulsated with new life, accompanied by the visual testament of your response. Each movement he had practiced with meticulous care unfolded in harmony with your reactions, creating a seamless blend of artistry and acknowledgment. The scene was a breathtaking testament to his dedication, captured in the intimate setting of his room yet resonating with the grand significance of a dream realized.

As the video unfolded, you emerged on the split screen, your gaze fixed with a blend of concentration and admiration. The moment your eyes fell upon the opening moves, they widened in astonishment, and a radiant smile blossomed across your face. "Wow, Riki, you’re really good!" you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with genuine enthusiasm as you clapped your hands in appreciation.

Riki's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. He watched, spellbound, as you attempted to mirror his moves, your own energetic efforts weaving through the choreography. The sincerity of your reaction was palpable, your infectious energy casting a warm glow over the video. As you struggled to keep pace with some of the more intricate steps, your laughter rang out, a melodious testament to your enjoyment.

"This is amazing!" you declared, your voice tinged with exhilaration. Your attempts to keep up with the more complicated segments were endearing, each misstep only adding to the charm of the moment. "You’ve got some serious skills," you added, the admiration in your tone leaving no doubt about the impact Riki’s performance had made.

As the video continued to play, your voice wove a tapestry of praise and encouragement, each word resonating with warmth and sincerity. Your genuine enthusiasm was evident in every comment you made, and the way you cheered him on with heartfelt fervor only heightened Riki's sense of disbelief. 

To see his idol reacting so positively, to hear you express admiration for his dance cover, was a dream realized beyond anything he had ever imagined. Each of your encouraging words was like a golden thread, stitching together the fabric of his hopes and aspirations. 

Riki felt a euphoric surge of joy and excitement, a bubbling elation that seemed to illuminate every corner of his being. It was as if every ounce of effort, every painstaking moment of practice had been acknowledged and celebrated by the very person he admired. The sense of validation that enveloped him was profound, a poignant reminder that his relentless dedication had truly borne fruit.

As the final frames of the video faded, Riki remained seated in a state of stunned reverence, his mind still reeling from the extraordinary moment. The room seemed to hold its breath as he absorbed the magnitude of what had just unfolded. It felt as though time itself had paused, allowing him to savor the profound significance of your reaction.

With a rush of excitement, he swiftly shared the duet on his own TikTok account. His fingers moved with a blend of urgency and care as he crafted a caption imbued with heartfelt gratitude, a testament to the overwhelming joy and appreciation he felt. 

Almost instantly, his phone began to buzz with a flurry of activity. Notifications erupted like a cascade of shooting stars, each one a glowing testament to the support and admiration pouring in from friends and fellow fans. Likes, comments, and messages flooded his screen, each one a vibrant expression of shared excitement and encouragement. The once-quiet room was now alive with the digital applause of those who celebrated his achievement alongside him.

Riki dedicated the remainder of the evening to a whirlwind of joy and celebration, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he replied to the influx of comments and messages. Each notification was a burst of radiant support from the community, a testament to the genuine connection he felt with those who shared his excitement. His friends joined in the festivities, their enthusiasm mirroring his own, creating an atmosphere brimming with shared triumph.

The acknowledgment from you, his idol, filled him with an exhilarating sense of accomplishment. It was as though he had reached the pinnacle of a long-cherished dream, and the warmth of your appreciation deepened his admiration. He had always marveled at your talent and dedication from afar, but now, that admiration had evolved into something profoundly personal. The recognition you offered was a bridge between his passion and your artistry, and it made him feel as if he was floating on a cloud of euphoria.

Before retiring for the night, Riki watched the duet one final time. He immersed himself in the vivid moments of your reaction, savoring the way your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and how your laughter seemed to dance along with the music. Each replay was a precious moment, a reminder of the incredible connection they had forged. This experience, etched into his memory like a cherished photograph, would be a beacon guiding his journey forward. The encounter with his idol had been a dream manifested into reality, and he eagerly anticipated the next chapter of his path, driven by the renewed vigor and passion it had ignited within him.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @d-dilemma (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @levi-09 @itjengirl @engentiny @clampclover @neos127 @jwonistic @mimisxs

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

[callsigns-haze]

Memories Fade II

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Not so long back Rhysand lost his sister. Years after Helion and Elain can raise her memories from the past to see what truly happened to Y/n. Warning: Mentions of death and drinking

*This part is full based on Y/n's memories leading up to the main incident with Rhys's mother*

Part 1 here

Y/N strolled through the moonlit gardens of the Night Court palace, her steps light and quiet against the stone path. The sounds of laughter and music from the grand ball inside drifted out into the night, but she found solace in the peace of the garden, away from the crowd.

She reached her favorite spot, a secluded bench beneath a canopy of flowering vines, and sat down, pulling a book from her pocket. The soft glow of faelight lanterns provided just enough illumination to read by. She lost herself in the pages, the world around her fading as the story took hold.

A soft rustle of leaves brought her back to the present, and she looked up just as warm hands wrapped around her from behind. A familiar laugh bubbled up from her lips.

"Eris," she chided playfully, closing her book and turning to face him. "You always know how to sneak up on me."

Eris, with his auburn hair gleaming in the moonlight and a mischievous glint in his amber eyes, smiled down at her. "It's one of my many talents," he said, his voice a low murmur. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

Y/N shrugged, leaning back against him. "I needed some air. The ball is lovely, but it's so crowded. I prefer the quiet."

Eris's expression softened as he looked at her, though there was still a hardness in his eyes, a reminder of the challenges he faced in his own court. "I understand. Sometimes, the silence speaks louder than the noise."

She reached up, touching his cheek gently. "You seem troubled."

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the palace where the ball was in full swing. "There are always troubles, Y/N. You know that as well as I do."

She nodded, knowing better than to press him for details he couldn't share. Instead, she shifted the conversation. "Rhysand is coming back home soon," she said softly. "He’s been at the Illyrian camps with Mother, but he’ll be here any day now."

Eris's eyes flickered with interest. "And how do you feel about that?"

Y/N looked away, her heart clenching with a mix of emotions. "I'm... scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eris's brow furrowed as he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "Scared? Why?"

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Things are always different when Rhys is home. He’s... changed. The time at the Illyrian camps, the training—it’s made him harder, more distant. I'm afraid of what he might have become, and how it will affect us."

Eris's expression softened, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. "Y/N, your brother loves you. No matter what changes he’s undergone, that love will remain."

She leaned her head against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of his embrace. "I hope you're right. I’ve missed him so much, but I can’t help feeling this fear, this anxiety about what he’s been through and how it’s changed him."

Eris held her close, his hands gentle on her shoulders. "It’s natural to feel this way. But you’re strong, Y/N. You’ve been trained by the best, and you have a heart that can mend any rift. Trust in that."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his. "And if he’s not the same? If he’s become someone I don’t recognize?"

Eris's gaze was steady, unwavering. "Then you help him remember who he is. You remind him of the love and bond you share. You bring him back."

She sighed, feeling a small measure of comfort in his words. Despite the harsh exterior Eris often presented to the world, with her, he was always kind and caring. "Thank you, Eris. You always know what to say."

They sat together in silence for a while, the sounds of the ball fading into the background as they enjoyed the peace of the garden. Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her, even as the fear lingered at the edges of her mind. She knew that soon her family would be reunited, and that she had someone like Eris to lean on in the meantime.

----

Y/N stood beside her father in the grand throne room of the Night Court palace, her posture rigid and composed. The room was imposing, with its high ceilings and dark, intricate designs. Her father, the High Lord, sat on his throne with an air of authority and indifference, his expression unreadable. She mirrored his demeanor, suppressing the swirl of emotions within her.

Today was the day Rhysand and their mother were returning. It had been years since she had seen them properly, not since she was four years old. The memories were hazy—snippets of laughter, warmth, and love that seemed almost like dreams now. She clenched her hands at her sides, determined to remain as cold and detached as her father had taught her.

The grand doors at the far end of the throne room swung open with a creak, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She straightened, her face a mask of calm indifference, as her mother and Rhysand entered. Her mother looked regal and composed, while Rhysand, now a young man, carried an air of strength and authority that was almost intimidating.

Y/N's father rose from his throne, his expression impassive. "Welcome home," he said, his voice echoing through the vast room.

Y/N's mother approached first, her eyes softening as they landed on her daughter. "Y/N, you've grown so much," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Y/N forced a polite smile, her words clipped. "Thank you, It's sort of how the world works, Mother."

Rhysand stepped forward next, his gaze intense as he studied her. "Y/N," he said, his voice holding a mix of surprise and something else she couldn't quite place. "It's been a long time."

She met his eyes, her own gaze hard and unyielding. "Yes, it has." She turned slightly to her father, seeking his approval. His subtle nod gave her the confidence to continue. "I hope your time at the Illyrian camps was fruitful."

Rhysand frowned slightly, clearly taken aback by her cold tone and the response of 'fruitful'. "It was... educational," he replied, his voice cautious.

Their mother glanced between them, a shadow of worry crossing her face. "We've missed you, Y/N. We thought of you often."

Y/N nodded curtly, not allowing herself to be swayed by the emotion in her mother's eyes. "Thank you. I have been well cared for here."

Her father stepped forward, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Y/N has been training diligently," he said, his voice proud. "She is well-prepared for the responsibilities she will bear."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze shifting between Y/N and their father. "I'm glad to hear that," he said slowly. "I look forward to seeing all that you've accomplished, Y/N."

Y/N inclined her head, her expression still cold. "Of course."

There was a tense silence, the weight of unspoken words and years of separation hanging heavily in the air. Y/N's heart ached with the distance she felt from her brother and mother, but she steeled herself, determined not to let her emotions show.

Their father broke the silence, his voice firm. "We have much to discuss. Let us retire to the council chamber."

As they moved to follow him, Y/N felt Rhysand's eyes on her, filled with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. She ignored it, focusing instead on maintaining her composure. She had to be strong, had to live up to her father's expectations. There was no room for weakness.

As they walked through the grand halls of the palace, Y/N couldn't help but steal a glance at Rhysand. He had changed so much, grown into someone powerful and commanding. The brother she remembered was gone, replaced by a stranger. A pang of sadness tugged at her heart, but she pushed it aside.

She would do what was expected of her. She would be the daughter her father had trained her to be. And maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to reconnect with the family she had lost.

As they entered the council chamber, the atmosphere grew even more tense. The large, ornate table in the center of the room was flanked by high-backed chairs, each one a symbol of power and authority within the Night Court. Y/N took her seat beside her father, her posture straight and formal.

Rhysand and their mother sat across from them, their expressions a mix of anticipation and unease. Y/N felt her father's presence beside her, a steadying force that helped her maintain her composure.

The High Lord cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "There is much to discuss regarding the future of our court and the roles each of you will play."

Rhysand nodded, his eyes flickering to Y/N. "I've learned much during my time at the Illyrian camps. I'm ready to take on more responsibilities."

Their father’s gaze was intense as he regarded Rhysand. "Good. Your training has been rigorous, and you will need every skill you've acquired. The Night Court requires strength and unity now more than ever."

Y/N watched the exchange, her heart pounding. She could see the determination in Rhysand’s eyes, but she also sensed a hint of uncertainty. Despite his training, he was still trying to find his place within the court and their family.

Their mother leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. "We must also remember that strength comes in many forms. Our court needs not just warriors, but also diplomats, healers, and strategists. Each of you has a role to play."

Y/N’s father nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Y/N has shown great promise in her studies and training. She has the potential to be a formidable leader."

Y/N felt a flicker of pride at her father's words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of expectation. She glanced at Rhysand, wondering what he made of their father’s praise. Would he see her as a rival, or as an ally?

Rhysand’s gaze softened as he looked at her. "I’ve missed you, Y/N. I hope we can work together to strengthen our court."

She nodded, her voice measured. "I hope so too."

The conversation turned to matters of strategy and politics, and Y/N did her best to contribute thoughtfully. She could feel Rhysand’s eyes on her occasionally, filled with a mixture of curiosity and something else she couldn’t quite identify.

After what felt like hours, the meeting concluded, and Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over her. As they rose from the table, their mother approached her, a gentle smile on her face.

"Y/N, would you walk with me in the gardens?" she asked softly.

Y/N hesitated, glancing at her father. He gave her a slight nod, and she turned back to her mother. "Of course."

They left the council chamber and walked through the halls in silence, the tension between them palpable. As they reached the gardens, Y/N felt the cool night air brush against her skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside.

Her mother paused by a blooming rosebush, her eyes sad. "I know it’s been difficult, being separated for so long."

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice cold. "It was necessary. Father needed me here and you needed Rhysand."

Her mother nodded, her expression pained. "Yes, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I’ve missed you, Y/N. More than words can say."

Y/N looked away, her heart aching. "I’ve missed you, Mother. But things are different now."

Her mother reached out, gently touching her arm. "They don’t have to be. We’re family, Y/N. We can find our way back to each other."

Y/N met her mother’s eyes, seeing the love and longing there. For a moment, she let her guard down, allowing herself to feel the depth of her own longing. "I want that too," she whispered.

Her mother smiled, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "We will, my dear. We will."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead would be difficult, but perhaps, with time and effort, they could bridge the gap that had grown between them.

-----

Rhysand walked through the familiar halls of the Night Court palace, his mind racing with thoughts of the meeting and the cold reception from Y/N. The years apart had clearly created a distance, and he was determined to bridge it, but he knew it would take time and patience.

As he rounded a corner, he was startled to see Eris rushing through the halls, his expression focused and determined. Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. What is he doing here?

"Eris!" Rhysand called out, quickening his pace to catch up.

Eris turned, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Rhysand. "Rhysand," he said, his voice hurried. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Rhysand replied, his tone curious. "Where are you off to in such a rush?"

Eris hesitated for a moment, then answered, "I’m going to meet with your father. It’s urgent."

Rhysand frowned. "Is everything all right?"

Eris nodded, though his expression was tense. "It’s under control. Just some matters that need addressing."

Before Rhysand could press further, Eris gave a quick nod and continued down the hall, disappearing around a corner. Rhysand watched him go, a mix of curiosity and concern swirling in his mind. What business did Eris have with their father?

Shaking his head, Rhysand decided to let it go for now. He had more pressing matters to attend to, like reconnecting with his sister. As he turned to head back to his quarters, a thought nagged at him. Why was Eris here, and what was so urgent?

Meanwhile, Eris rounded another corner and found Y/N waiting in a secluded alcove, hidden from prying eyes. The moonlight filtering through the tall windows cast a silvery glow on her figure, making her look almost ethereal. His face softened as he approached her, his steps quickening. He reached out, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close, wrapping one arm around her.

"Eris," she began, her voice filled with concern, "what’s going on? You said you had news."

Eris glanced around, ensuring they were alone before pulling her closer, his grip firm but comforting. "Not here," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "Come with me."

Without another word, he started walking, keeping his arm securely around her waist. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anxiety and curiosity swirling within her. She matched his pace, sensing the urgency in his movements.

"Eris, please," she tried again, her voice a whisper. "What’s happening?"

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and something she couldn’t quite place. "I’ll explain everything, but not here. Trust me."

The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly as they walked, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words. The distant sounds of the ball inside the palace were muffled, creating an almost eerie stillness around them. Shadows danced along the walls, flickering with the light from the torches, adding to the sense of impending change.

Y/N’s mind raced with possibilities, each one more troubling than the last. She glanced back once, seeing the empty corridor behind them, before focusing ahead, where Eris led her towards an uncertain future.

As they approached a narrow staircase leading to the lower levels of the palace, Eris's grip on her waist tightened. His gaze flicked around nervously, ensuring they were not being followed. The tension in the air was palpable, making Y/N’s skin prickle with unease.

They descended the staircase, their footsteps echoing in the confined space. The air grew cooler, the light dimmer as they moved further away from the main halls. Just as they reached the bottom, Eris paused, his grip tightening for a brief moment. He looked at her, his eyes conveying a silent promise.

He looked down at her, "I’ll explain everything, but we really have to go."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. She could see the resolve in his eyes, and it gave her strength. With a determined push, they crossed into the dimly lit corridor beyond, the door closing behind them with a soft click, leaving the halls silent once more.

part 3

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