#like. i’m alive and i have my own tree in my own house.

[grlquartz]

y’all my new christmas tree is so pretty. it’s the nostalgic vintage classically colorful tree of my dreams. i am so so pleased with how it turned out <333

[heavenbarnes]

okay hear me out— softness and gentle topics aside, how would older bf!simon go about discussing his mom & Tommy? would it ever occur? Would it be a vulnerable and gentle discussion with sins laid on the table or would it be like pulling teeth— panic attack arises and the words are spewing.

at first I’d have headcanoned it that maybe we innocently question the clinginess but I’m not so sure anymore; feels like that would just be second nature for the two.

i’ve never ventured into this topic because it’s literally so devastating that i almost considered writing it out of canon for him- but it’s time 🫶🏼 (massive tw for family loss)

the day older bf!simon tells you about his family, it’s at breakfast.

he’d made the food and you’d made the coffee, both expertly passing each other in your kitchen until you’d settled at the table.

when he told you, you had toast hanging out your mouth.

“pardon?”

“i had a family”

you weren’t really talking about anything in particular, so you made quick mental work of skimming over your conversation until you found where this was coming from.

sunny outside, nice day, should go to the farmers market, get groceries, it’ll be crowded, family day-

i had a family

had.

oh.

your heart had start to speed up in your chest and part of you was scared simon’s military precision hearing would be able to tell.

judging by the look on his face, distant, quiet- he couldn’t hear the thrumming against your sternum.

you were thankful, it meant he kept speaking.

“my mum and my brother, tommy- he had a missus too and a kid”

had.

oh god.

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze drifted out the window and onto the birds that were floating over the fruit tree in the backyard.

you couldn’t say there was much of you to look at, a hardline of your mouth and eyes that were willing themselves not to water.

“they weren’t in a good way- but i helped them get better”

the corners of your lips quirked reflexively but it fell away just as quickly, unable to escape the voice in the back of your head that kept saying the same thing.

had.

why is every thing in the past tense?

probably for the same reason this is the first time you’re hearing this story. when is the right time to get to this part?

the moment he cuts the rope, lets you down from where he’s had you hanging- you wish you could react in any other way.

instead, your mouth hangs open while your hand does its best to cover it.

the toast goes cold, so does the coffee.

the tears break through of their own accord.

and he still won’t look at you.

“oh, simon”

your mind races in a way you’ve never felt before, thoughts you’d never had before rising to the surface.

first, you want to hurt someone, anyone- whoever you can blame for doing this to simon.

(you quickly realise he’s probably already done that)

second, you want to take him by the shoulders and tell him that this was never his fault.

that there was nothing he did or could’ve done to deserve this.

and you’re sure that there’s layers to his job and things he’s done and seen that’d make him think that cannot be true.

but you don’t care- there is no human alive that could ever deserve what you’ve just been told.

you don’t care.

you love him.

third, you start to make sense of some of simon’s behaviours.

the way he calls your name when you’re at the other end of the house, just to know where you are.

the way you can turn around at any given moment and find him closer than your shadow.

the way he calls you on deployment only to hear you tell him you love him and you’re still home waiting.

the way he cannot exist without a hand on you, without knowing where you are, without knowing you’re still his.

and there you go again, wanting to hurt whoever put him in this position.

grateful to be able to love him how he needs but angry- blind rage in knowing what he went through to get to this point.

it’s why you’re out of your seat and wrapping your arms around his shoulders the minute you hear even a sniff.

you let him ruin your shirt with tears as strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so close into him you wouldn’t be at all surprised if the particles shifted just enough for you to become one.

as if you weren’t already.

you’d never, never ever, questioned simon’s ever present need to be close. you’d come to accept it, enjoy it, miss it when he was gone.

it was never overbearing, never out of line, always right when you needed it.

reminding you that he was there.

that he loved you.

that he needed you.

just as much as you needed him.

and god, did he need to be needed.

did he need you to pass him the pickle jar (even when you could open it just fine)

did he need you to make him take the rubbish out (when you could do it yourself)

did he need you to call him when the car was making a funny sound (when you knew it was the fan belt)

did you need him to pull you into his lap at the end of a long day and rest his lips against the crown of your head as he rubbed slow circles into your back.

like you were doing for him now.

“simon, i just need you to know- i’m not going anywhere”

you made it to the farmer’s market, eventually. it was crowded, meaning simon’s arm never let your waist.

not that you mind.

not that you ever mind.

[sodavizz]

— Christmas Won't Be The Same Without You.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Pairing: Daisuke x GN! Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff again :3

Wc: 1.3k+

Author's Note: Tadaa!! It's almost Christmas time baby! I'm super duper excited as it is already half of November!! Are you all ready to celebrate it, cause I sure am!

The snow was falling softly outside, coating the world in a blanket of white. The small town where Daisuke had grown up was quiet, the streets lined with festive lights and decorations. Inside his parents' house, however, there was nothing quiet about it. The living room was alive with the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air, and the soft crackle of a fire burning in the hearth. It was the perfect Christmas setting, and you were sharing it with Daisuke.

“Can you believe it?” Daisuke said, his voice full of excitement as he stood beside you in the entryway. His eyes sparkled with that familiar joy you adored. “Christmas at my parents’ house. I'm sure they're just as excited you are to meeting each other!”

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through you as he took your hand, pulling you into the house. “I’m really happy to be here with you, Daisuke. This place feels so… cozy.”

His grin widened. “It’s definitely cozy. And my mom’s cooking is legendary, so get ready for some serious holiday feasting. You might not even have room for dessert by the end of the night.”

You laughed, feeling your stomach growl at the thought of what awaited. You’d heard a lot about Daisuke’s mom’s cooking, but this would be your first time tasting it. You could already smell the roast turkey and baked goods wafting from the kitchen.

The house was warm, full of life, and adorned with decorations that felt like they had been carefully placed with love. Christmas stockings hung from the mantle above the fireplace, each one bearing a name stitched in gold thread, and a grand tree stood in the corner, its branches weighed down with ornaments, tinsel, and fairy lights. The atmosphere was peaceful but bustling, with Daisuke’s parents—his mother in a festive red apron and his father pulling drinks from the fridge—filling the space with energy and laughter.

Daisuke led you to the living room where his family was already gathered. His parents, always warm and welcoming, greeted you with open arms.

“Ah, there you are, so you're the one my son keeps going on and on about!” His mother beamed as he mumbled something to her, seeming embarrassed she would expose him about that. She then stepped forward to give you a hug. “We’ve been waiting for you both. Everything’s ready for dinner, but we can always add more if you’re hungry before the big meal!”

“You must be starving after the drive!” his father added with a grin, holding out a glass of eggnog. “Don’t be shy, help yourself.”

You chuckled and accepted the drink, glancing over at Daisuke, who was practically glowing in his own way, standing close by with a proud smile.

“You must be excited to have us here,” you teased.

He nodded eagerly. “Are you kidding? I’ve been counting down the days to Christmas here with you and my family. I think I’ve spent almost every Christmas here since I was a kid, and this time it’s even better because you’re with me.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. There was something about being here, in the warmth of his family’s home, surrounded by love, that made everything feel like it was falling into place.

“I’m really happy to be here, too,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “It feels so... right.”

Daisuke grinned and reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning to his parents. “I think it’s time for us to get the party started! We still need to do the Secret Santa exchange, and I’m pretty sure everyone’s excited for that.”

His mom laughed. “Oh yes, we can’t forget about that! We all got something special this year, so I hope everyone’s ready for a little holiday fun.”

Dinner was a true feast. The table was piled high with everything you could imagine—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, roasted vegetables, and an assortment of freshly baked rolls. In the center, a large cranberry sauce dish sat alongside platters of sweet potatoes and baked brussels sprouts. Daisuke’s mom had clearly outdone herself, and as you dug into your meal, you could tell that everyone was savoring each bite.

Between mouthfuls, you shared stories with Daisuke’s family, laughing and chatting about everything from your childhood traditions to more recent adventures. Daisuke’s dad was particularly fond of telling embarrassing stories about Daisuke when he was little, which had everyone in stitches. Daisuke, for his part, seemed unbothered by it all, even joining in with some of his own stories about his mischievous younger days.

But it wasn’t just the food or the laughter that made this night feel special—it was the way Daisuke kept glancing at you with that soft, affectionate look in his eyes, the way his hand would subtly brush against yours under the table, or how he’d pull you close during moments when no one was looking, as if to remind you that this was your time together.

--

After dinner, Daisuke insisted on taking you outside to see the backyard, which, as it turned out, had a stunning view of the town covered in snow. The Christmas lights from nearby houses reflected off the snow, creating a soft, magical glow that made the night feel like something out of a holiday movie.

“Come here,” Daisuke said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the porch. “This is one of my favorite parts of Christmas—just looking out over the snow. My family used to come out here every Christmas Eve when I was younger and just… enjoy the peace.”

You stood with him, watching the snow fall gently, the cool air brushing against your skin. His presence beside you, his warmth, was enough to make everything feel even more magical.

“I never imagined I’d get to spend Christmas like this,” you murmured, leaning into him. “It’s been perfect.”

Daisuke smiled down at you, his fingers threading through yours as he pulled you a little closer. “I’ve been looking forward to this for so long, just to share it all with you. Christmas is better when you’re with the people you love, and that’s all I want for us.”

You leaned up to kiss him, the moment soft, gentle, and full of meaning. When you pulled away, Daisuke’s face was alight with happiness, his eyes sparkling.

“Merry Christmas, the most beautiful person I've ever seen,” he said softly.

You chuckled at his compliment as you stared deeply into his eyes in an, oh such affectionate way.

“Merry Christmas, Handsome,” you whispered back.

Later, as the evening drew on, everyone gathered around the tree for the Secret Santa exchange. You’d gotten Daisuke’s mom, and after some playful teasing, she opened the gift you’d picked out—a beautiful hand-knitted scarf, which she immediately wrapped around her neck with a delighted laugh. Then, Daisuke gave you your gift, a small box wrapped with care. When you opened it, you found a delicate silver bracelet with a charm that read together, a reminder of how far you’d come and how much you meant to each other.

You blinked back tears as you hugged him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “I love it, Daisuke. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, his voice full of affection as he kissed your forehead. “This is just the beginning of our holiday together. I want to make this Christmas the best one yet.”

As the evening wound down, the two of you snuck off to a quiet corner of the living room, away from the laughter and chatter, to enjoy each other’s company in peace. With the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights surrounding you, Daisuke wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“This is all I ever wanted,” he whispered, his voice full of love. “To be with you, here, now.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his family, the love between you, and the gentle snowfall outside, you knew he was right. It didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together.

“Merry Christmas, Daisuke,” you whispered, kissing him again.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, smiling softly, his heart as full as yours.

[totaly-obsessed]

Rory

Leah Williamson x reader

-> A teenage squabble over a plant turns into a heartwarming symbol of family as two best friends prepare to embark on the journey of motherhood together.

-> Happy (a little late) Birthday @alotofpockets!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“What the fuck is that?”

“Leah Williamson, Language! Or I will call Amanda!” Your mum’s voice was shrill as she scolded a thirteen-year-old Leah for her cursing. Leah just had a smug smirk on her face, she got her potty mouth from her mum, who always acted outraged when her eldest swore in front of other people.

“That is my favorite plant, Lee! My sister gave it to me.”

Your best friend didn’t even have the audacity to look guilty or lie. “Well that’s fucking hideous thing, I’ll tell you that.”

“Leah!” Oh shit. She just got first-named.

“W- Well you can’t tell me that’s a pretty plant! What is it even called? Tree Tumbo?

Now that she saw the tears brimming your eyes she knew she had fucked up. Her hand that had flown, trying to defend herself slowly sank.

“No, it’s called Dracaena. But I named it Rory, short for Aurora.”

Just last week Leah and you had talked about names for future children, or rather your future children. The blonde was already sure that she liked girls, so kids were out of sight for now. Aurora was a name that stuck with her though, and you had promised to name your first kid Aurora if your husband would agree.

“Oh… Darling, I’m so so-”

“I think you should go home now.” Your teary eyes nearly killed the teen, but with one last kiss on your forehead, she left the room, saying goodbye to your very confused mother.

—

“No way.”

“Yes, Leah! I am not leaving her behind!”

The blonde defender tried to barricade the door and deny you access, but with just a gentle nudge she moved, even picking up the heavy plant for you.

“I can’t believe you’re taking that fucking thing with you.”

After that eventful first day of having Rory, Leah had properly apologized with chocolate, flowers, and a hand-knitted little sweater for a plant pot. She obviously didn't make it herself. God, that would have been a disaster. Her Granny, Berny, had made it for her.

“Well she’s my daughter and as long as I am alive I will take her with me. Either deal with it or go.”

Leah was stunned standing in the hallways “OH! You wouldn’t dare, darling! What would you do without me? Who carries the grocery bags for you?”

“You haven’t carried anything yet!”

The two of you had just signed your first senior contract with Arsenal for a year - and to live closer to the facilities you were moving into a house with Emma Mitchell and Emma Byrne. Both of them were experienced players and filled with excitement they had agreed to take two young talents in.

But seeing you call a plant your daughter, and Leah hating it with such passion surely was a sight to see and just a teaser for the coming year.

—

“You can’t be serious?”

Leah had been busy over the day, doing media stuff. So with having the new house all to yourself, you brought Rory back in, much to your girlfriend's demise.

She had just re-signed her arsenal contract for the foreseeable future while you had signed with the London City Lionesses last year, working part-time as a librarian at your closest school - a dream of yours.

After multiple failed relationships with men, you had come to the realization that the real thing was right in front of you, in the form of your best friend.

Now you had moved out of the old, small apartment into your very own first home, and Leah apparently liked to ignore the time plans you had made. So now you stood there, Rory still in your hands as your girlfriend got out of the car.

“I thought we talked about this Darling!”

Quickly she had walked over, taking the now huge plant out of your hands, and carried it into the house.

“Where do you want it then?”

She already knew that you couldn’t leave Rory behind, you had looked so sad when you promised her not to take the Dracaena with you.

“Next to the couch please!”

“Of course darling…”

—

The nerves picked at you as you made a little sign with ‘big sister’ on it. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to Leah that you are pregnant, the road here was long after all. But you would never know.

Rory would officially be a big sister in the making, in just a few more months, and then a little baby would share the place with your loved plant.

After leaning the sign next to the ultrasound and the pregnancy test you sat back down at the dining table, now you just needed to wait until your wife was home.

It was as if you were in a trance, looking at your book but not actually taking anything in from it when the blonde entered your home.

“I’m home darling!” Her first act of service once entering was greeting you with a kiss - but she was a little taken aback by your nervous expression. You had been home the entire day, what could have happened?

“I’m gonna shower, my love. I’ll leave the door open for ya!”

Hastily you stood up, pulling Leah back by her arm, ignoring the cocky smirk on her beautiful face. “Can you water Rory please?”

Her nose scrunched up in confusion. You, letting her near your beloved plant? unheard of, but she’d take it any day if it would make you happy.

“Yeah! Sure!"

Your wife nearly skipped through the living room, a half-full watering can in one hand, a müsli riegel in the other. 

“How much does she need?”

No answer.

“Darling, What’s up? You’ve been we- Oh.”

She saw it.

the watering can and food forgotten she picked up the hints you had positioned, looking at the positive test and the picture.

“It worked! We’re gonna be mothers!”

[ma1dita]

I think I’d be sort of interesting if, for like an alternate ending where Luke is alive and doesn’t betray camp, Luke when he’s older decides to visit his mother but with diyonius reader

the house on a hill

a ‘partners in crime’ alternate universe installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

alternate universe masterpost

words: 663

summary: alternate universe - driving up to mom’s for the weekend & some sweet domesticity - luke castellan x dionysus!reader 

a/n: this was a cute lil way to clear my head! send more luke x trouble asks??

(posted 1/28/23 unbetad)

written in reference to this blurb

—

Your head bumps against the car window as you jolt awake.

“About time that you woke up, babe,” Luke grins, his eyes still on the road. Blinking slowly, you look around at the trees blurring together as you stare out the window, recognizing where you are. The two of you were driving up from your apartment in Brooklyn, finally going to see his mom for the weekend. With graduation steadily approaching in the next few months, there was a lot to think about.

“How long was I out?” you groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The sun is setting now, and a blue “Welcome to Connecticut! We’re Full of Surprises!” sign whizzes past the passenger window.

“Just an hour, but I got a little lonely,” Luke hums, rubbing circles on your thigh while his other hand is on the wheel. You lace your fingers with his own, watching him yawn. You can tell he needs this, and with all the time your dad drags you back to Montauk for ‘consults’, it’d be nice to get a dose of normal for once.

“Poor baby.”

Laughter spills out of you like a melody as you crack open the still-cold redbull in the cupholder, and he can’t help but admire your side profile as you take big sips. He’s so in love with you, and this weekend will be perfect. It has to be.

“Mmm, want some?”

Your boyfriend takes a sip, smiling when he hears you singing along to a Taylor Swift song. As you hold up an imaginary microphone for him to warble into, the distance to his childhood home gets smaller and smaller, until you spot the white picket fence of the property and squeal in excitement.

“Hurry up, I wanna see your mom!” you giggle, stomping your feet onto the car floor as he drives up the grassy path and honks loudly.

“Hey, I thought I was your favorite Castellan, trouble…” Luke says and his voice trails off when he sees his mom peeking through the kitchen window, waving at you.

“Whatever you say, angelface.”

You almost hop out of the car and run up the steps to hug her, gentle hands pulling you into a feeling of comfort only mothers can give.

“Hi Ms. Castellan!”

“Oh honey, I told you May is fine, or Mom. You’re already my favorite kid!” she grins, her smile exactly like her son’s, and the both of you turn to hear Luke grumbling as he pops the trunk to get your bags.

“Hi mommy,” Luke chuckles, bumping your hip to push you into the house as he kisses May’s cheek, “Stop being so obvious, you’re gonna spoil my surprise!” His hands fumble with the bags as he props a knee up to readjust his hold on your backpack and May’s hands reach out to help him.

“No, it’s okay, I got it, I got it…”

May catches the ring box that falls out of Luke’s back pocket, holding it to her chest with a knowing smile.

“You’re always gonna need some help, whether you admit it or not, my love.” She tucks the box into the pocket of his flannel shirt, patting it before she pinches his cheek.

“Luckily, you have a woman like her. Bless her heart for what you’ll put her through,” May says laughing at his scrunched-up expression.

“Guess I’m just scared she’ll say no.”

Luke sighs, looking at her like she holds the answers to the world.

“She’ll be crazy if she says no,” she reasons, and they both listen to you setting the table in the dining room.

“No, she’ll be crazy if she says yes. That’s why I want to marry her,” he snorts, bringing the bags in through the doorway.

“Um, mom? I think the cookies are burning!” you call out, sounding panicked.

The weight of the box in his pocket feels heavy, but his heart has never felt so light and sure of what’s to come. 

—

(pictures are not representative of reader's appearance and gender, simply added visuals for funsies)

luke taglist (struck out won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @targaryenluvs @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @b0ok-lover

[lessi-lover]

all is fair in love with you II a.russo x reader

summary: alessia comes with you for christmas. ★ all is fair in love with you II a.russo x reader

in the gentle embrace of the morning sky, the sun casted an unusual warm, golden, light through your large bedroom window. the window, adorned with soft, rustic curtains, slightly ajar, allowing the peaceful glow of the morning to filter through. framed photographs decorated the walls, each capturing a memory in time, all shared with your favourite blonde.

the same blonde lay peacefully in bed, with her hair spread out across your cream sheets. her face, half - buried into her pillow, only allowing calm, rhythmic breaths to leave her parted lips. a softly painted, hand draped itself across your waist, light pink nails slightly digging into your hips.

after a tough, but rewarding game against tottenham, all you wanted to do was allow your body to be welcomed by your lover’s comforting embrace, to feel the joyfulness of the holidays. you had quiet conversations discussing your plans for christmas, and enjoyed the unusual peacefulness you both felt.

her thumb gently traced patterns on your bare thigh, which was tucked tightly between her own pair of legs, a soothing gesture that would be able to ground you both in the moment.

“only if you’re ready to meet my family, lessi. they can be quite overwhelming.” your voice muffled by the blonde’s neck. during your 'cuddle session', your girlfriend had brought up the idea of potentially meeting the rest of your family for christmas. she had already met your parents couple months ago and the introduction couldn’t have gone smoother.

the blonde lifted her head from between your shoulder blades, her eyes filled with love and affection. “i’m willing to face the storm of mccabe siblings if it means i get to keep you,” alessia replied, arms wrapping tightly around you. a cheeky smile adorned her face, small dimples forming on the girl’s cheeks.

“absolutely love, and i promise i will tell them to keep the interrogating to a minimum,” you added, hoping to ease the girl of any worries. you had been dating for almost a year now, and making this step felt like a natural progression for your relationship.

“then saturday night sounds perfect, amore mio,” kissing your cheek, she gazed out the window.

the fading sunlight danced on her features, highlighting each perfection of her face, and you found yourself lost in captivation by her beauty.

~

"darling, are you sure i don’t need to go buy anything, and this outfit is appropriate?” the blonde asked, gesturing to what she was wearing. you had offered to help her get ready, knowing she was quite nervous about meeting your family.

“yes, i promise you don’t need to bring anything. and you look perfect, lessi, you always do,” you reassured her, a soft smile on your lips. you let the girl fuss over herself in the mirror one last time, the judgement in her own eyes, enough to make you cry.

“ready to go?” you asked the blonde, again she gave herself another look in the mirror and nodded, taking a deep breath. “okay, i can do this,” she said shakily. taking your hand, her confidence growing with your support.

~

the living room was alive with the sounds of a long - separated family finally together again. the house decorated with red, green and white tinsel, your christmas tree displayed proudly by the fire. the air thick with the smell of home- cooked food, and the walls echoed with laughter.

“hello, everyone!” you called out to your family, with a beaming smile, as the two of you entered through the front door, her hand firmly intertwined with yours. the living room erupted with cheerful greetings.

your family members were quick to welcome the both of you with open arms, instantly making the blonde feel like a part of the family. “how are ya!” your sister ella, was first one to reach you, excitedly engulfing you in a long awaited hug, nearly lifting you off the ground.

then came your youngest sister lauryn, and perhaps the one you missed the most. she crashed into you both, wrapping her arms around the both of you, before extending the invite alessia, pulling her into the embrace.

letting go, your sisters immediately started to create conversation with the blonde. her brows furrowed, both your sister's accents somehow stronger than the irish woman she saw daily, making it difficult for her to understand. questions about where you too met and how she dealt with you were dished out.

your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, as your siblings told your most embarrassing moments to your girlfriend. about to cut into the exchange and save the poor girl, you were abruptly swept up in another embrace, by another set of arms wrapping around you, this time belonging to your mother.

cupping your face, your mom let a few tears slip, in which you wiped away with a small chuckle. "far too long, darling," your mother whispered, holding you so tightly in her grasp, as if you would slip away if she let go.

you hadn't been home in almost a whole year now, your thigh injury meaning you missed the ireland camps, and were forced to stay in london to recover. "i know, but i'm here now, that's what matters," you reassured her, rubbing her back up and down.

then suddenly, her watery eyes shifted to the left of you, arms immediately letting go. curious, you turned to see what had captured her attention. as if a moment in time paused, you saw your mom extending her arms out to alessia, enveloping her in a warm hug. you watched as your mom and girlfriend chatted, your mom making cheesy jokes that she can call her 'mom', and alessia doing her best to keep up with her rambling.

after exhaustingly greeting each of your family members you were finally able to speak to your girlfriend. although not without a few sly comments from your siblings, about the "fashionably late couple", courtesy of your well complimented outfits, - which the blonde would profusely deny she chose.

my father's entrance from the kitchen was perfectly timed, strutting around in his 'dad apron', he announced that dinner was ready. the heavy scent of food was now flowing freely through the house, everybody sitting down, excited to finally eat.

throughout dinner, alessia charmed everyone with her wit and kindness. your family was captivated by her presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride seeing how well she connected with them, effortlessly joining conversations. the blonde once shy, began opening up more, cracking jokes and adding the playful banter between your siblings.

"can't forget the time when y/n tried to bake a cake and it ended up looking like a deflated football?" your sister, katie pipes up. laughter erupting amongst your family. "never letting that one go. it's in the mccabe hall of fame now," your older brother added. laughter breaking out through the dining room.

"was it at least edible?" alessia asked, with a playful glint in her eye. "hey! it was, it tasted… well, it tasted interesting, i'll have you know." you responded before any of your siblings could, feigning offense to the comments about your cooking skills.

"interesting is one way to put it. i think even dad had second thoughts." your youngest sister said teasingly. the table bursts into laughter, even louder this time. "i think we've found a new judge for our family cooking contests!" your mother exclaims. alessia laughs, looking more relaxed than she had felt in a long time. "just wait until you hear about the time y/n tried to fix the sink on her own, and flooded the kitchen!"

alessia's eyes widen in amusement, turning to you with her eyebrows raised. "i'm being ganged up on! that didn't happen!" you threw your arms up, trying to think of any excuse to save yourself. "oh that reminds me!" your mother changed the topic, everyone confused as she swiftly left the dining room looking for something.

a moment later your mother returned, but this time with 12 wrapped gifts in her hands. "presents!" she exclaimed, your siblings faces lighting up and their mother's clear excitement. handing each gift, you waited patiently for your turn.

your mother handed you a wrapped gift box, a deep blue wrapping with a golden coloured bow lay in front of you, attached the gold ribbon read a small handwritten tag with your name on it. next to you alessia's eyes glistened, face lit up in anticipation. until, the blonde was given her own gift. "and one for our newest family member," you mother said, her voice laced with warmth. the comment making the blonde's eyes twinkle, a large grin plastered on her face.

"well don’t just stare at em, open them!" wrapping paper flew, a series of cheers chorused as each sibling opened their gift. each gift contained a christmas styled sweater, customised for the sibling.

for alessia, her sweater was a classic, elegant design, in a soft heather maroon colour. it featured a ribbed pattern, and a vibrant red turtleneck, perfect for chilly nights in london.

opening your own gift, you were given a similar sweater to the blonde. a chic, oversized sweater, with a trendy off the shoulder cut, although yours was a slightly richer red, more of a deep burgundy, both sweaters again complimenting each other.

a wave of cozy, oversized sweaters were lifted up in hands across the table, a mix of black, blue, greens, reds and pink sweaters clouded your view, each sibling as happy with their gift as the last. your mom stood at the end of the table, and you could only describe her facial expressions as truly at peace, her children finally together in time for christmas.

giggling with the blonde, you felt so at ease. she really was the one for you. ahead of you, both your parents stood, looking so proud and content. your father's arm was wrapped around your mother, holding her close, eyes glistening. they shared a knowing glance, their gazes both loving and approving. an unspoken message laying in their eyes, a silent affirmation that seemed to say, "she's perfect for you."

as the night went on, you found yourself falling even more in love with alessia, appreciating the way she effortlessly fit into your family and made everyone feel at ease. it was a night you would always cherish, the beginning of many more gatherings to come. you had never felt your family bond feel so strong.

after all, this was what christmas was about.

~

Liked by leahwilliamsonn, @y/m/n_ and 93,048 others

alessiarusso99 beautiful way to end a really positive 2023, with my girls and thank you mom for the sweater, the girls loved <3

view all 728 comments

y/n_y/l/n understatement of the season. that sweater is incredible. 💗

victoriapelova ❤️❤️

leahwilliamsonn I want my own one @y/n_y/l/n

y/n_y/l/n @y/m/n_ leah wants one as well

bethmead_ i think we all deserve a sweater for christmas? 🧐

katie_mccabe11 😍

lottewubbenmoy love you, sis ❤️

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15 hours ago

[mockerycrow]

You’re Alive (Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist - gazfest 2023 @glitterypirateduck

PROMPTS: “One-shot” + “Safe House” + “Let Me See You”

SUMMARY: After receiving a facial scar, you have been jumpy—Kyle is here to show you that’s it’s all okay.

A/N: Honestly, I’m not the happiest with this but I decided to stop being picky with it!! So I hope my contribution to gazfest is satisfactory <3

[WARNINGS: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, moderate descriptions of gore, allusion to PTSD.]

Your leg kept bouncing like whatever gnawing feeling in your gut wasn’t going to stop unless your leg was going a million miles per minute. The clock on the wall ticked every second oh so quietly, and it was overall silent aside from the ticking and your body squeaking. You felt like a live wire attached to a brick of dynamite, ready to explode at any given time—ready to kill whoever holds the brick. Despite it being an hour or two since you and Kyle arrived at the safehouse, you remain at the only window in the entire building. In your arms rests your rifle with your safety switched to “semi” for semi-automatic, like you’re expecting someone to come barreling in through the door, or come through the tree line.

Kyle doesn’t blame you for the way you have been acting, honestly. He knows you’ve been different since you got your facial scar a few months back—you were required to go through a psychological evaluation to be deemed fit for duty, and it’s moments like this where Kyle—guiltily—wonders how you passed “with flying colors”, so the doctor said. He doesn’t understand how the Captain hasn’t see your behavior either, or if he has, he hasn’t done anything about it. Kyle means well about all of this, too. He’s worried about you. He’s seen the way your eyes scan every room, the way you’re too ready to raise your weapon to kill, the way you snarl at anyone who is casually holding a knife outside of combat.. There’s so many signs pointing to something, a deeper problem, that he is wondering how the psychologist still has a job.

You’ve begun to wear a mask that obscures your face from your nose down.

You offered to take first watch—he notes that you’re like Ghost in that regard, you can’t calm down after a highly intense situation, so you gotta do what you gotta do, right? But the way you’re so.. jumpy, you keep jolting and looking at Kyle every time he shifts, making a slight noise?—that’s concerning. He’s used to Ghost’s incredible alertness, the way he doesn’t like his back faced to the door of the rooms he enters, Kyle is used to when Ghost sits in the far corner so he can see every inch of the room—but he was terrified when you began to do it, too. You’ve always been vigilant, sure, but you’re.. Something is very wrong.

Kyle watches from his spot on the ragged, torn couch that had to be taken from the curb in a nearby neighborhood. His own rifle is propped up against the couch, his pistol resting on the coffee table in front of himself. He watches the way your eyes flicker across the skyline, the puffy eyebags you have almost seem like they’re worsening by the moment. Kyle is also exhausted—you two have been traveling from safehouse to safehouse for about a week, trying to meet up with the rest of the task force.. With no support, of course.

He calls your name, and he makes a mental note of how your finger twitches closer to the trigger than before. “You need to rest.” He grunts out, pushing himself off of the couch. Kyle turns and grabs his rifle, holding the hefty weapon to his chest as he naturally copies your perfectly practiced pose. He looks up and looks at you—and you haven’t moved a muscle. “Hey, y’hear me?” Kyle voice is laced with concern as he takes his steps towards you, and he makes the mistake of tapping your shoulder—because suddenly he’s facing the silencer of your semi-automatic rifle. Cold panic shoots through his veins and his gut, his muscles going rigid as if he’s a deer in headlights. His eyes search for yours, locking eyes; and you’re out of it. He knew something was wrong.

“Oi,” Kyle speaks with the softest tone he can manage with a gun nearly pressing into the bridge of his nose. “Oi, it’s me. Gaz, mate. It’s Kyle.” Your eyes search his face desperately, and he’s silently begging for you to speak. The tension in his stomach is twisting and turning, threatening to snap—you show no signs of any recognization of him, someone who you have trusted for years by this point, someone who was the one to get your guts inside of your abdomen after an ambush, the one who held your face together after the attack—

Kyle does things before he thinks about it sometimes, and it seems to happen a lot more often with you than anyone else, so he’s silently cursing himself out when he slowly raises a hand to your cheek—his heart pounding against his rib cage, like it’s screeching to escape and run away. He has a rifle pressing against his nose, nearly right between his eyes, and what does he do? Kyle holds your covered cheek, his gloved hand cradling it just like how he did when he found you. Your eyebrow muscles punch inwards for a moment, your eyelids fluttering from the touch.

He watches the way your eyes scan his face, the way you’re trying to decipher whether he’s friend or foe—and he sees it when you know it’s him. Your eyes widen every so slightly and your rifle trembles in your grasp, lowering it and you flip the safety back on. “Gaz, I..” You croak for a moment, taking a small step back. Kyle let’s out a breath he didn’t he was holding, along with all of that tension holding up in body. He reaches for you again as you pinch the bridge of your nose, one of his hands swiftly taking the rifle from you, the other gently cradling your cheek again. “Shh, it’s alright,” He murmurs, his stomach tightening with anxiety. Your eyes fall closed for a moment as Kyle lets your rifle drop to the ground next to where both of you stand.

“It’s alright.” Kyle repeats, his other hand coming up to cradle your other cheek. You ever so slightly flinch in his touch, but you don’t pull away. Your hands come up to cover his own, a choked noise leaving your throat. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.” His lips are next to your ear now, voice dripping like honey into your eardrums, trickling down your spine with a warmth only he’s been able to provide for you. You can borderline feel his heat from beneath his gloves, seeping into your skin from on top of your mask, too. It grounds you enough for you to take a wonderfully oxygen filled breath.

“There y’go, yeah..” Kyle praises you softly, the air from between his lips brushing against your ear and causing you get goosebumps. You inhale once again, slower and deeper—and you get the comforting scent of Kyle, mixed in with the sweat and dirt. Nonetheless, it’s something you find extreme comfort in. As Kyle brings you down from your panicked feelings, he’s swaying you ever so slightly. After you let out a soft shuddering breath, he pulls away from your ear. “Let me see you,” He whispers, causing your eyes to shoot open, scanning his face with panic. You begin to shake your head but his hands remain in place. Kyle’s hands don’t move to remove your mask, as he’s always been good with your boundaries—but his eyes are pleading you.

“Please.” You lock eye contact with him as you debate this; you haven’t showed your face willingly since you were in the hospital, right? You began to cover your face as soon as you could without medical repercussions. You keep scanning his eyes, his muscles in his face, and then it hits you—Kyle doesn’t beg you of anything—the last time he saw your face, was when it was split in two, when he was holding your face in place. You know the attack fucked with him, too. Your barracks were next to his, and after the attack, you were hyper-vigilant. You woke up from every noise, and every night—you heard him stumble out of his room, always at night. Panicked.

You take a slow, deep breath—and you nod. You close your eyes, trying to give yourself some comfort. You feel his fingers hook into the soft material of your mask, and he pulls it down to under your chin. You don’t open your eyes just yet, but you can’t help the small flinch when you feel his gloved thumb trace part of your pink scar that’s deep in your lip. Your heart is hammering in your throat as his finger continues to slowly follow the scar’s path, from your bottom lip trailing to your nose, rearing a gory right, a deeper part of the scar scaling through your right cheek, and taking a harsh upwards turn, just narrowly missing your eye, but cutting deep into your eyebrow.

“There you are.” He whispers, his voice barely steady. Your eyes flutter open and you look at Kyle, and your eyebrows raise ever so slightly at the sight of tears brimming in his own eyes, pure relief all over his expression. “Thought I lost you forever, huh?” Kyle tries to laugh, but his voice cracks, causing a rare laugh to be pulled out of your chest. You reach up and your breath hitches as you wipe away a tear that had begun to slide down his cheek. “I’m.. I’m okay, Kyle.” You respond and he shakes his head, sniffling for a moment, his eyes tracing every part of your face, like you’ll disappear again. “You aren’t,” He confirms. “And that’s alright. You’re alive, and here with me, that’s enough for now.”

[flemingsfreckles]

Be a Good Teammate pt. 4

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 first!

Preview: You and Jessie have dinner at her new place.

Warnings: it’s angsty yall, buckle up (just for a bit), swearing, very brief mention of sex (no descriptions, nothing like that, but it gets mentioned)

WC: 5.5k

A/N: I think this is the end of this series. I never intend to make it more than 1 part honestly, but you all enjoyed it enough so here we are at Part 4. This also ended up more angsty than I had planned so, whoops :)

It was nearing 5pm when your Uber pulled up in front of the address Jessie had sent you. You thanked the driver and hopped out. You hadn’t thought much of the address, not noticing that there wasn’t an apartment number or a unit letter attached to the end of it, so you were surprised to find yourself standing in front of a house instead of an apartment complex as you had expected.

It was a small little blue house, wood fencing all around, a good sized front yard, a few trees, it was exactly what you would expect Jessie to pick out. 

You pulled your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to let her know you had arrived. You had gotten back to the hotel, quickly thrown on a Nike sweatshirt and a fitted pair of gray joggers.

“Hi.” You look up to see Jessie walking through the doorway and down the steps toward the fence gate. You put your phone back in your pocket, not needing to let her know you were here anymore. She reached the gate, unlatched it and held it open for you to come inside. You notice that she quickly looks you up and down as you walk through into her front yard. You can’t help but do the same to her.

Jessie’s hair was down, still slightly wet from her postgame shower, she was wearing a lavender colored long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She looked cozy, as if she was ready to cuddle up on the couch for the evening like she had mentioned wanting to do.

“You bought a house?” Your curiosity gets the best of you and you can’t help but ask. 

“Yeah, I did. I lived with Janine and her fiancé for the first few weeks while I looked at places, and then I had to leave for the gold cup and I just couldn’t find any apartment that felt like home. I started looking at houses instead once I got back. This was actually the first one I saw and I really liked it. It’s not too big, which works since it’s just me right now but has some room if I need it in the future.” Your brain wanders to the thought of Jessie having her own kids in the future, you knew she wanted them and you had seen how good she was with kids over the years. 

“Plus I figured even if I’m only here for a couple years, I can keep the house. It’s only been a few weeks but I love the area. I'd consider coming back here to settle when soccer is over.” She opened the front door, stepping back to let you walk in first. 

You slip off your shoes, placing them on the mat next to the door where Jessie’s shoes lay neatly in a row. Looking up you realize you're standing in her living room, there’s a large gray couch, a small table in front of it, a tv, a bookshelf that’s filled with books and art and other trinkets. 

“You can keep a plant alive now?” You tease her as you see she has a variety of green plants. In college you had watched her become what you described as a serial killer of plants.

“I’m getting better. A lot of them were housewarming gifts from my teammates so I maybe just haven't had enough time to kill them.” 

Stepping out of the entryway you walk over to her bookshelf, looking at the various titles, there’s a couple photos placed on the bookshelf, one with her parents after she had won the gold medal, one of her and her Chelsea teammates holding up a couple trophies, one of her and her siblings all wearing matching Christmas pajamas. The opening to the kitchen was just to your right, you step in its direction before turning to look at Jessie who was following closely behind you.

“Can I see the kitchen?” You don’t want to invade her privacy by inviting yourself to take a tour of her place.

As if she read your mind she gestures her hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Go ahead, I can just give you the whole tour now while we wait for the food, it should be on its way by now. I was also thinking we can watch the Angel City and Orlando game, only if you want it should be on at 7. ” She looks at the clock mounted on the wall. 

“Yeah that sounds good.” You reply as you step into the kitchen.

Her kitchen was cute, the same wood accent from the outside of the house scattered throughout. She offered you an ice pack for your nose as you stood looking at her fridge. You declined, having just taken the pain meds, it was bearable pain. 

As you continue to move through her house Jessie makes a few comments here and there about what she liked about the house so much, the wood flooring, the large windows that let in natural light, the little nook that she had set up to be a place to read. Hearing her talk about the little things, paint colors, furniture was so simple and yet it made you feel like you were back to your old friendship. The simple minded discussions, the joking around, all the tiny moments you would have with her, it hit you how much you really missed just her existence and company.

You get to two closed doors at the end of the hallway, you point at the one closest to you and look back at Jessie.

“Linen closet, nothing exciting unless you want to see towels.” You move your finger to point at the other. “My bedroom.”

“Oh,” You’re not sure what to say, the closed door seemed like an obvious sign to not go in. Jessie again, able to tell what was running through your head, speaks up.

“You can go in, I just close the door out of habit. I don’t have anything to hide.” Wanting to see her bedroom, you push open the door. It reminds you a little bit of her bedroom in your college apartment. Not much as far as decor, just a few special things on display throughout. Her bed in the center of the room, a nightstand on one side.

“Sorry it’s still a mess in here, I haven’t had a ton of time to dedicate to unpacking and I was more focused on the rooms everyone else would see.” You look around, trying to find the mess she was referring to. Her bed was made, no clothes scattered across the floor, no pile of clean laundry to be put away, no water bottles on bedsides, not even dust, just a few boxes stacked neatly in the corner, the one on top open as if she had been in the middle of unpacking when you had arrived.

“If this is what you consider a mess, we have completely different standards of mess.” You let out a laugh, Jessie doesn’t say anything, just gives you a smile and slow nod. 

You’re interrupted by her phone ringing, she picks it up and before answering the call she points around the corner. “If you want to see my bathroom, it's through the closet. I’ll be right back.” 

She walks out of the room and you hear her answer the call. You take a second look around her bedroom, looking at the couple of personal items that were scattered, photos of her and her Canada teammates, photos of her family, photos of skylines and nature that you assume she had taken. She has her array of cameras all neatly set on a shelf, displaying them. Making your way over to her closet you walk through to peek into her bathroom. It looked like a bathroom, nothing too special about it, a shower, toilet, a vanity with two sinks, her toothbrush, hairbrush, and other bathroom things just placed neatly around one side.

You turn back to go wait in her bedroom being done looking at the bathroom. You walk into her closet, taking a quick glance around, the closet had more boxes in it than unpacked clothing items. Each box was neatly labeled, varying in sizes, all stacked on top of one another. You look at what clothes she had unpacked, it was nearly all clothes for training, one pile had clothes with the maple leaf and the name Canada across them, the other a mix of red, green, some blue, with the thorn’s logo and Portland across them. Looking back toward the exit of the closet your eye catches on a box, more specifically the label of the box catches your eye.

It was a box with your name on it. Printed carefully along the side, in Jessie’s handwriting. You could feel your heart begin to race. You couldn’t move, your eyes staring, your own name looking back at you. Why did she have a box with your name on it? 

“Foods here.” You didn’t even hear Jessie coming, the sound of your blood rushing through your ears muffling outside noises. She comes around the corner, you quickly look away, not wanting her to see you and think you were snooping through her stuff. You weren’t, but you could see how it could look suspicious, but then again she was the one with a box labeled for you. She must’ve seen your sudden movement as she looks at you with a questioning look, then at where the box sat, you see the moment she knows you’ve seen the box. Her eyes widen and dart back to you. You expect her to say something, she does, just not about the box.

“It’s on the kitchen table.” Her face returns to a relaxed state, almost emotionless.

“Perfect.” Mirroring her behavior you decide maybe you’ll both just pretend that box doesn’t exist. Maybe you’ll just let it eat away at you for years, just like you had done with your feelings for the girl. You follow her out of the closet and bedroom back down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

You both make a plate, grab a water, and sit down at her kitchen table. She sits first and you’re then forced to make the choice between sitting next to her or across from her. You decide on sitting across, hoping she doesn’t judge your choice. It’s quiet for the first few minutes, just the sound of silverware. Jessie keeps her eyes down, looking very interested in the plate of food sitting before her. You knew it was going to be awkward, seeing her in a non-football setting for the first time in so long, you were prepared for the small talk, asking about your family, your friends, the weather, you weren’t prepared for whatever this was. Both of you sitting here thinking about that box brought a whole different level of unexpected discomfort, it was making you itch.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t mind you having a box with another girl's name on it?” Unable to hold it in any longer, you let the question come out, you quickly kick yourself for asking that way, bringing her girlfriend into this conversation. Jessie picks up her head and puts her fork down.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” Choosing the wrong time to take a sip from your glass you choke slightly causing a coughing fit. Jessie just looks at you as you try to calm down. Once you stop coughing she continues muttering the words, “and she actually did mind. A lot.”

Your brain is spinning, you heard her keep talking but your mind kept repeating the words she had spoken “not my girlfriend anymore”.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you split.”  You now feel guilty for bringing up the girl.

“Of course you didn’t, you stopped talking to me, you didn’t get to have the privilege of knowing that we split.” Her tone of voice was shifting, becoming annoyed. Wanting to ask more but also not wanting to pry on a relationship you barely knew about.

“Why didn’t you just get rid of the stuff? If that would’ve made her happy?”

“I don’t know.” She pauses looking down at her hands. “I mean I do, it’s,” she sighs. “To be fair it wasn’t just the box, she had always been a little suspicious of our relationship, I told her the truth, that there’s never been anything between us, we didn’t have a history. And she believed me, I think, at least at the start. But then when you stopped talking to me, she’d catch me watching your games, checking up on you, looking at old photos of us, and she eventually found some clothing of yours that I had put away, along with the notes we used to write each other, the birthday cards, the Polaroids, everything. I wasn’t intentionally hiding but it was out of sight out of mind for me. I didn’t need the constant reminder that I had been dumped by my best friend. She again made the assumption that we had dated, or at least had slept together. She read the letters claiming friends to talk to each other in that manner. That was just the start of the mess.”

Nodding along to her story, you try to show her you’re paying attention, and you were, it was just hard when your mind was drifting to a hundred different thoughts. 

 “And then the rumors started about my transfer. I hadn’t told her about it, I hadn't even mentioned the idea of leaving London. I wasn’t even sure it was going to go through, it was a lot of money for Portland and I was waiting on visas and medical and all that bureaucracy and we got into an argument about it. She accused me of moving for the wrong reasons, she brought up you.” Jessie pauses for a minute as if to collect her thoughts before she continues.

“ I then said some things about you I shouldn’t have said to her and then it was over with her shortly after.” The volume of her voice drops as she rushed her words at the end of her sentence.

“You could’ve just thrown it all out at the start, if that would’ve fixed things with her, I wouldn’t have known.” Your statement is true, you didn’t even know she had kept all those things you wouldn’t have known if she had gotten rid of them.

“It wasn’t that easy, I know we weren’t talking, and like I said we weren’t even friends, but fuck I missed you so much. You were my best friend for nearly 5 years, only to get dropped without a reason and I was mad at you, sure but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of that box of stuff.”

“There was a reason, I hope you know that.”

“Well you didn't give me a reason, if you just would’ve told me I could’ve fixed it or apologized or something. Instead I just had to sit and run through every decision I had ever made questioning where I went wrong with you, what I did to hurt you.” You can see tears welding in her eyes as she continues to stare at you, despite the tears, her eyes are cold and make you feel tiny under her gaze.

You stayed sitting, staring back at her, having no clue on what to say to her, stuck between wanting to apologize and also wanting to yell back at her. You silence allows her to continue.

“I would’ve done anything to have you back in my life, all you had to do was ask, but it felt like you wanted nothing to do with me. And that fucking hurt.” Her fist comes down hard on the table, it startles you, making you sit back away from where you had been leaning against the table. You cross your arms as you sit back and bow your head to stare down.

“I couldn’t ask.” It comes out quiet, from your mouth almost as if it was an accident.

“What?”

“I couldn’t ask you to fix it, it wouldn’t have been fair.” Speaking louder you bring your head back up to look at her.

Now it’s her turn to say nothing. She looks from you to where her hands sat on the table. She just waits, giving you the space to give her more information. You know you owe her the explanation, what you don’t expect is the word vomit that comes out once you start.

“I couldn’t ask you to break up with her, I couldn’t tell you I was jealous of her, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you those things, you seemed so happy with her, it wouldn’t have been fair. I had my chance for 4 years before she existed to tell you and I didn’t, but I also couldn’t stand seeing you so happy with her, it tore me apart, I wanted you to be happy and you were. It just sucked that you were happy with someone else. It sucked trying to be a supportive friend, I hated having to hear about your dates, and hearing about your first kiss, and I really hated having to hear all about the first time you two fucked.” The last word coming off with extra emphasis, the memory of her call to you after their night together briefly plays in your mind, only making you more upset.

“I hated it Jessie, but I sat through it for as long as I could because I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to be a good friend to you. I wanted to still be your best friend but I couldn’t and all I wanted was for her to no longer exist. I started to think horrible things about her and your relationship and that’s when I knew I needed to take a step back for my own health. I was no longer being a good friend to you. So I stepped back.” Your voice was loud, you were slightly out of breath barely stopping between words as you yelled across toward her, you’re not sure why you were yelling, you weren’t trying to yell at her. It wasn’t her fault she had found someone to make her happy that wasn’t you. But the past year of frustration had built and built and unfortunately this was the time the wall broke, and here you were practically shouting at Jessie across her own kitchen table.

Jessie doesn’t say anything. She stands up from the table, the sound of her chair scraping the floor was the only noise in an otherwise silent room. Grabbing her own empty plate and then extending her hand she offers to take yours. You pass it to her. She walks them over to the sink, putting them down, running the water over them. You stand up, not wanting to feel like a terrible house guest, you start packing the leftovers back up. You open the fridge door and place them inside. The water shuts off and Jessie puts the plates on a mat to dry. She walks past you, not saying anything as she moves into the living room. You hear the noise of the couch, assuming she has sat down you take a few steps toward the other room. 

She’s sitting on the couch, bent over with her head in her hands. Her thumb is rubbing against her temple and she’s bouncing her knees. Leaning against the doorway you stay quiet, you feel bad for yelling at her, seeing her overwhelmed like this because of you, tugged on your heart. You wanted to rush to her side and hug her but you also knew that would probably be the worst thing you could do. You stayed put, leaned against the wall just watching her. She lets out a large breath and then sits up. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t,” you shake your head, not sure what she’s asking. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you look like you want to, so what? Just say it. Don’t be a coward again.” Her words are harsh, insulting you in a way she hadn’t ever before. To be fair to her you realized you had also never yelled at her before either.

“I’m not a coward.”

“Hiding your feelings for 6 whole years, 5 of those years when we were best friends feels a little cowardly, but that’s just my opinion.” You hadn’t seen Jessie like this often, especially towards you, she was almost being mean, not caring what she said to you or how she was saying it. 

“Fine, what did you say about me to her? Before you broke up, you said that you said stuff to her about me that you shouldn’t have. What did you say?” You can’t help but ask, the question of what she had said had been sitting in your brain since she mentioned it.

When Jessie doesn’t respond right away you push her. “Don’t be a coward.” You mock her tone from earlier using her own words. She rolls her eyes at you.

“She accused me of moving to try and be closer to you, she said I wanted to rekindle our relationship. And by that point I couldn’t take her nagging about you anymore and so I was honest with her. I told her the reason I had kept all of your stuff, the reason I checked up on you, the reason I would look at old photos of us, even though you didn’t care about me anymore. I had to tell her my memories of you were comforting for me.” She looks you in the eyes for a second before looking down at her hands.

“Those memories felt like home, that you felt like home. And I then had to tell her that was something I had never felt with her.”

You’re not sure how to respond, trying to process all of Jessie’s words before saying anything back to her. You move off the wall and sit down on the couch, putting some distance between where you both sat.

“Naturally, admitting having feelings for someone else to your current partner doesn’t go over well so that was the end of that.” She mumbles as you sit down.

“You have feelings for me?” Maybe you had heard her wrong, doubting that this conversation was actually happening. She slowly blinks at you.

“Did they check you for a concussion after the hit?” Her question only confuses you more. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god.” Jessie throws her hands up. “Yes, I have feelings for you. That’s what I just said, I just didn’t really know that they were those kinds of feelings until you stopped talking to me and I realized how important you were and that it felt like I was missing a part of me that no one besides you could fill. And then I had her, and that was fine for a little bit, but she wasn’t you.”

You have half a thought to call her out, call her a coward the way she had to you for hiding her own feelings, but decide against it. 

The silence takes over the room, you’re not sure what to say to her. What do you say to someone you’ve been secretly in love with for 5 years when they finally admit they want you back? Where do you even start to make up for the time you both wasted? Where do you go from this conversation? 

Thankfully you don’t have to figure it out at that moment as both your phone and Jessie’s vibrate and light up, both of you reviving the notification that the Angel City and Orlando game was set to start. 

Jessie looks up from reading the notification, “Do you still want to watch the game? I understand if you don’t, I probably wouldn’t want to stay around someone who called me a coward.” 

“I want to stay, if that’s okay. You can yell at me and call me whatever, but just being around you has really made me realize how much I’ve missed your company. So, I’d like to stay if you’ll let me?” 

“Of course.” She reaches for the remote on her coffee table and points it toward the tv turning it on.

“Can I get that ice pack you offered earlier?” No longer caught up in the intense conversation you feel the pain from your nose starting to return in full force. Jessie tosses the tv remote in your direction and hops up from the couch immediately, rushing to her freezer. She comes back with an ice pack, a bag of frozen veggies, a towel, and a bottle of pain meds. 

“Do you want to just sit and hold it or lay down? I can get you a different pillow. I brought the towel in case the direct ice is too cold. And if you want these.” She gives the bottle of medicine a shake. “I also wasn’t sure if the ice pack would sit nicely on your face so I got this.” She holds out the package of frozen vegetables to you. 

“Yeah that’ll actually probably work best.” You take it from her hand. “Thanks.” You add. She placed the pain meds on the coffee table and leaves to put the other ice pack back in the freezer. You use the remote to find the game, and Jessie returns as they commentators start talking about the starting lineups for each side.

When Jessie sits down you notice she sits a lot closer to you then the two of you had been before. Your hips and thighs are only inches apart. She leans back and puts her feet up onto the table. 

You both sit in what is now a more comfortable silence, watching the game. You both make comments here and there about footwork, ball movement, passes, shots, critiquing and complementing the players. At halftime Jessie stands up, takes the now thawed bag of vegetables from you and brings it back to the freezer. She comes back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and waters.

When she sits back down, she closes the gap between the two of you. The outside of her leg now resting against the outside of yours. She places the popcorn bowl so that it rests on both of you. Jessie leans back to rest against the back of the couch and you do the same. The game starts back up again, you both focusing your attention back to the tv. 

It only takes 5 minutes into the second half for you to feel Jessie shift in her seat. She’s moving only slightly but being hyper aware that she’s pressed up against you, you can’t help but notice her movements. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel her lean her head over, placing it to rest on your shoulder, leaving her body more forcefully against yours. Your whole body tenses, not wanting to move and disturb her. 

You stay like this for a couple minutes. Deciding you couldn’t let her make all the moves you glance down to see Jessie’s hands resting on top of each of her thighs. You place your own hands in the same position, then move the one closest to her, in her direction. You move just as slow as she had until your pinky finger is hovering just over hers. You slowly let your hand fall on top of hers, she doesn’t pull away, or tell you off. Instead she flips her hand so her palm is now facing up. Eager to finish what you had started you now quickly move your hand, interlocking your fingers with hers. You wait a minute, then let the pad of your thumb gently rub against her thumb.

You stayed in that position, holding her hand, her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched the remainder of the game. Wanting more time with Jessie you desperately were hoping for an insane amount of added time, unfortunately only 3 minutes are added and the game is quick to end.

Jessie pulls her head off your shoulder, sitting up with a yawn.

“I should probably get back.” You say, realizing it was nearing 9pm and while you didn’t have a curfew, you still didn’t want to be caught coming back too late by any of your teammates knowing you’d never hear the end of it, especially since they knew you were at Jessie's.

“Right.” Jessie stands up from the couch and flips a light on. The sun had gone down as you watched the game and the two of you were in the dark without the light from the tv. She holds her hand out to you, you take it and stand up. You quickly pull out your phone and order an Uber, thankful you were in a larger city and your ride would be here in less than 5 minutes. You move toward the door, bending down to slip your shoes on before standing up facing Jessie. 

“It feels weird to say that I had a really good time tonight with all the yelling that happened, but I did. I had a really good time with you Jessie.” You smile at her.

“I had a good time too, this was nice. I’ve missed you.” She replies to you. She holds her arms out to you, offering a hug. You take a step toward her, leaning in to wrap your arms around her waist as she places hers on your shoulders. You stay hugging, longer than a normal friend’s goodbye hug would be. You both release the hold on each other but you don’t move back from her. You stay face to face, your eyes staring back at her brown ones. 

Much to your surprise Jessie is the one who makes the move. One of her hands comes up to your cheek, her fingers are warm and soft on your skin. Her eyes break contact with yours dropping to your lips quickly and then back up. She starts to lean in but stops just moments before your lips would connect.

“Is this okay?” Her voice is barely audible, quieter than a whisper. 

“Yes.” Before you have a second to think about kissing her it’s already happening. It’s a gentle kiss, her lips just placed on top of yours. She starts to pull away a second later, but you let your head chase her lips, giving her a bit more forceful of a kiss. In doing so, you bump your nose against hers causing you to pull back quickly from her, hand coming to clutch your nose.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I forgot about your nose.” Jessie’s eyes are wide as her hand comes to rest on the forearm of the hand holding your face.

“It’s okay Jess, that was my fault, I forgot too for a second.” You wipe your hand under your nose and look down at your fingers making sure you’re not bleeding again. “It’s not crooked or anything right?”

“No, but those black eyes are starting to come in.” Her eyes dart between both of yours. You both let out a small laugh and then are left in silence.

“I’d like to take you out sometime, on a proper date, if you’d want that?” You look at her hopeful she’ll want to continue whatever the two of you started.

“I do, I want that.” She smiles back at you, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Okay.” You can’t help but smile big back at her.

“Okay.” She just repeats your words.

“I should be going.” You repeat your words from earlier, you knew you had to go, you just didn’t want to.

Jessie moves her hand from your forearm up to your face to grab your chin. You think for a second she’s going to kiss you again but then she’s pushing your head away from her and to the side. She moves in and places her lips on your cheek. 

“Once your nose is healed you can have more on the lips.”  She says teasingly. The gentle gesture has you blushing more than the kisses to your lips did. She releases your face and you see her eyes look at your cheeks, the blush growing. You turn quickly facing the door, grabbing the handle and stepping out. 

“Goodnight Jessie.” 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: The way I've somehow made MYSELF hate Homelander more needs to be studied. The power of suggestion is very, very real.

Title from House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary/Warnings: Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Request from @thegildedblogger! Takes place before Chapter 1, about two or three weeks after the Boys find Her. Usual warnings, plus mentions of depression, suicide, and SA without depiction (not by Soldier Boy).

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, angst, Ben's only mentioned.

You’ve been having new nightmares. Nightmares where everything is white and cold like before, but it’s all below your feet and running with red. And there are screams. In harmony with your own, echoing over your every ragged breath, the world is fucking filled with screams. Millions of them, high and low and musical, a choir of demons calling you back down, down, down to somewhere hidden.

Somewhere that you’ll only hear the ghost of their voices, where everything will be spotless but dirty and the only eyes that watch you will be a horrible shade of blue. Where the sky won’t see you, but won’t need to see you, because you’ll never be able to hide in dirt and mud and grass again. You won’t be permitted to bleed, or cry, or scream, and everything red will be cold leather that wraps around your throat. And you can’t move or run or hide and this isn’t real but you’re not safe. It’s all in your head, but everything is burning and too-white teeth are flashing in your vision as blue eyes watch you fall alone.

You can’t breathe. Your skin is crawling and something under it is distorting and feels wrong. All of this is wrong and you aren’t safe and you can’t breathe and no. No, no, no, you can’t breathe and no-

You hear a nervous, muffled voice call your name as someone shakes your body. They’re afraid, and it’s not your fear because they’re not paralyzed, but they are so fucking worried and afraid and it’s pulling their stomach into knots and it's alive in their throat-

Your eyes shoot open as something hits you in the gut, and you scramble back as the full force of Hughie’s fear hits your body. His eyes are wide, his face pale, and he’s afraid of you. That’s the look people give feral animals—where they’re unsure if they should help or run—and you can’t even blame him. The sound that had left you as you’d woken was almost a shriek, you’re curled into a fetal position against the wall, and you can’t look good, or stable, or healthy. You haven’t showered in almost a week, you’re probably pallid and gaunt from lack of sleep and erratic eating, and there’s a thin but steady flow of smoke rising from your body.

You’d be afraid of you.

You are afraid of you.

You’re haunted by the screams of the scientists, and the ice skaters, and the ash and rubble of the forest, and you don't know what Hughie wants, but you're stuck in the forest—trapped in your own head—so you don't know how to ask.

You’d hoped you’d have more time after that. After how horribly the mission at the ice rink had gone, after you’d seen Homelander and the air had begun to wave around you. After everything had grown blurry and loud and a scratching, overwhelming pain had started to push out of your skin. After you’d come fully back into your body in a burnt clearing, and MM had appeared from the untouched trees and told you that you’d been about to explode, so he’d gotten you somewhere safer to do it.

You’d thought you’d get to rest after he hadn’t looked at you the whole ride back to the Boys’ Headquarters. After he’d asked, in a low voice, “What the hell happened back there?”

“I,” You’d swallowed, tapping your fingers against your palms and making sure every nail dug into your flesh. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I just, I saw Homelander, and I, I couldn’t-“

“Just Homelander?” MM had interrupted, and he’d sounded more curious than judgmental, so you’d nodded.

“Just Homelander. He,” your voice had barely been a whisper, and every breath had felt like labor. “He could’ve seen me. If I saw him, he could’ve, he might have seen me. And he, he might have tried to-“

“Okay. Got it.”

And that had been it. MM had dropped you back at the Headquarters, you’d shuffled over to your mattress, and you’d truly believed you’d have more time. To do what, before what, you’re not sure. But more time.

That obviously isn’t the case, though, because Hughie’s still watching you with a worry you’d felt deep and worming in your heart, and Butcher’s behind him with a smirk. Looking you over like he’s trying to figure out the fastest way to knock you down if you pounce, holding a hot pink tennis ball that matches the singed one on the other side of your mattress.

“Did,” you clear your throat, moving a hand to your neck in a weak attempt to pull the smoke back into your body by force. “Did you throw a tennis ball at me?”

“You weren’t gettin up with Hughie’s weak little shovin.” Butcher shrugs, placing the ball in his hand back on the desk. “Need you bright and bouncy, sunshine-“

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, your anger helping you sit up a little straighter against the wall. “Why do you need me up?”

“Mallory’s coming over,” Hughie mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “MM, he thinks we should take a proper look at your, um…” Hughie trails off, and Butcher rolls his eyes.

“Bloody hell, lad, grow some fuckin balls and tell the lady we’re gonna poke her fucked little brain.”

Your lips part with a slight shock, and the foreign feeling under your skin starts to run up and down your spine. “You’re what?”

“Takin a really good look into that fucked head of yours.” Butcher shot you a wink, and the fire starts to sit at the base of your chest, pushing up your throat. “Seein what makes you tick, and how the fuck we can stop you tickin.”

Your attention turns to Hughie, and he sighs.

“We’re just, we need some records. To know more of what happened, whatever you can share or tell us. So we know what not to do, how to keep you, uh, not on fire.”

You nod slowly, and focus on the breathing. In and out, slow and controlled, forcing the world back into a painful focus that’s only held together by a string. Keeping yourself on the earth, even if you had to fall and choke to stay there.

“I,” you take another long breath, and make yourself sound unaffected. Bored. Casual and completely fucking indifferent. “I get it. Okay.”

Hughie’s eyes widening, his face falling into a doubtful frown. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Hughie’s whole face relaxes, and his words fall out in frantic relief. “Thank God. Me and MM, we, um, we were really freaked out. After Vought on Ice. You looked,” Hughie pauses, voice dropping to a full mumble. “Not good.”

“MM and I.”

He blinks at you. “What?”

You shrug, pulling yourself up to unsteady feet. “MM and I, not me and MM. Just so you, um, just so you know.”

It doesn’t really matter, but it’s something to hold onto and think about that isn’t how you’ve freaked out the only people who seem to be able to tolerate you. And Hughie doesn’t seem that bothered—just giving an uncertain nod—even as Butcher scoffs.

“Well, you must’ve just been a laugh riot at fuckin parties-“

“I didn’t go to parties.” You mutter, taking slow, measured steps onto the cold floor and shooting Butcher a glare. “I was locked in a dungeon.”

If Butcher’s bothered by your words, he doesn’t appear it. He just gives you an unreadable look, puts his hands in his pockets, and says, “Save it for Grace, Love.”

You don’t know who Grace is, but you flip Butcher off and shuffle past Hughie to your box of clothing. Annie had gotten you some when you’d joined them, and you’ll never be more grateful for her prioritizing comfort over style. Especially given you seemed to burn through every other thing she bought you, you don’t have interest in simple, fun things like clothing anymore. You don’t have interest in most anything anymore. It’s all how can I help, and how do I make sure I never go back, and am I going to survive this?

Usually, the answer to that last one is yes. You’ll live through this, and find a small, pathetic, weak reason to keep going. A shred of hope to hang onto, to keep pushing and shredding yourself apart for, any single fucking reason to not collapse and scream and wither away.

They’re never sustainable. First it was food, but everything tastes bland and sometimes you don’t have the energy to even eat. Then it was sleep, but you never sleep. You always wake up screaming, often wrapped in fire, alone in the dark with nothing but the wide, cold office for company. Then it’s friends, or something close to friends, but fuck these people are complicated. Butcher’s an asshole that they all have their own weird dynamic with, and he treats you like vermin so you’re not exactly about to ask him to hang out with you. MM’s cool, but focused. Dedicated. No time for anything but finishing this, kind to you but weary of almost everything. Frenchie’s fascinating, but keeps trying to offer you drugs and you don’t think now is the best time to take up cocaine. Kimiko’s awesome, and she’s been teaching you how to talk to her and might be the closest to a real friend, but she seems to be preoccupied. With Frenchie, with her past, with the mission, and you’re not really something people prioritize. Annie and Hughie are sweet, but even more cautious than MM. Acting like you’re a stray cat they’ve let into their house, and they’re not really sure how to take care of you now. Annie buys you things, and Hughie offers you food or a crash course on the past three years, but that’s it. They won’t touch you.

No one will touch you.

And you understand.

You wouldn’t touch you either. If you didn’t have to splash cold water on your face or comb through your hair with your fingers, you’d keep your hands far from your body, or chop them off all together.

They’d grow back. Or you’d never get them off in the first place, because the skin would mend too fast and you’d only be torturing yourself.

You might deserve it. You do deserve it. So maybe, after this, you’ll see if you can cut off your hands. See if you can take away your limbs that only seem to be capable of destruction, see if you can claw out your eyes to never have to see blue eyes again. To spare yourself, selfishly, another memory charred birds and scorched grass and a beautiful, peaceful part of the world, razed by your lack of control. So you’ll be able to pretend that the forest is still beautiful, all green and bright, smelling like flowers and dirt and pine instead of ash, covered in light instead of shrouded in smoke.

Maybe when you’ll have no eyes, you’ll be able to exist somewhere beautiful in your head. Somewhere easy and safe, with all that sunlight and joy, but certain. It won’t be real, so it will be certain. You won’t be able to hurt anyone, when you cut off your hands and claw out your eyes—maybe you’ll carve out your heart as well, because right now every beat feels wasted and stolen—so things will be better.

But only after this is over.

Grace, as it turns out, is a thin-lipped, stone-faced woman who tells you to call her Mallory and gestures for you to sit across from her at a desk. Everyone’s here, mostly silent in the background, and you feel almost naked as you listen. Like an animal on display at the zoo, or a movie for them to watch. There’s a fluorescent light to the side of the desk that almost blinds your view of them, and you hate this. You don’t want to talk to anyone, or be anyone’s show, but you have to stay here. You have to pretend you’re fine and not made of poorly glued together pieces of paper, that you’ll be really useful to kill Homelander.

You need to be useful. And you don’t think you’ll stand being alone again.

So you plaster a small smile on your face, and give your full, slightly fuzzed attention to Grace Mallory.

She says your name, and you nod.

“I am she.”

Mallory tilts her head at you, looking almost amused in a very wolf-like way. “Of course. Why don’t we start from the beginning.”

You’ve told the story before in a million different pieces. In that shitty white van the Boys always drove, right after the graveyard, with only the brief held in captivity, medically abused and tortured, escaped. To different members of the team in vague detail, with small words of dungeon and fire and needles. As an explanation when you’d lost yourself with I can’t go back. He thinks I’m dead and if he realizes I’m not he’ll try and take me and he can’t take me. I can’t fucking go back, and I don’t know how to stop the fire and keep myself safe and I’m sorry.

And it was almost always met with pity. With a sympathetic, sad expression that told you they felt bad. That these people who had a career in dealing with fucked up shit felt bad for you, because you were just a small, weak thing that they needed to coddle. That they knew speaking to you—being near you—was as if glass had shattered over the floor and they needed to be careful to not let the glass cut them open, or force

This will be all of it, though. Almost all of it.

All that you can say aloud, without falling apart or becoming pitied in a way you don’t think you’ll be able to handle.

So you take a deep breath, and start.

“I, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but-“

“I am aware,” Mallory says, watching you carefully. “Of most of it.”

You pause, because this feels like a test, and something about Mallory tells you to tread lightly. That she’s not a woman to play games with, but also someone you can’t afford to be vulnerable with. It may be her stiff posture, or snake-like eyes, or how she holds her hands in a way that simply feels robotic, but it’s something, and you don’t feel human under her gaze. And you don’t like that. You don’t trust it.

So you need to be careful.

“Like what?” You keep yourself small and uncertain, and pretend you don’t see Mallory’s brows raise slightly at your question.

“I don’t believe it will matter if you start where I’d told you-“

“I don’t want to repeat things, waste your time.” You glance at the Boys, who are watching you and Mallory like you’re a dogfight. “We all have busy and, um, complicated lives. I just don’t want to take too much time.”

There’s a moment where you think Mallory might insist you continue, but she just looks you up and down with a glint in her eyes, and speaks in clipped words.

“You are a former Vought captive. You escaped about four months ago, and have been on the lam since. We were made aware of your existence by Queen Maeve, found you in Boston, and recruited you to our efforts. You’re a pyrokinetic with a healing factor, and you seem to have some form of PTSD in relation to Homelander that makes you…” Her eyes narrow on yours. “Unreliable in the field.”

You nod slowly, tapping your fingers on the table as you mutter, “I wasn’t a Vought captive.”

Mallory says nothing, but her gaze never softens as you continue.

“I was Homelander’s captive. I don’t even know how many people at Vought knew I existed. Obviously Maeve had an idea, and probably Edgar, but what happened to me wasn’t Vought. It was all Homelander. He kidnapped me, and kept me in a dungeon for, um,” something is stinging in your heart and stabbing in your skull—clouding everything in a desperate attempt to push memories of white and cold and pain down—but you force yourself through it. “His own uses. With my body.”

“His own uses.” Mallory repeats, and you taste metal as you bite through your cheek. “Such as?”

You swallow, forcing your attention to say sharp on Mallory. This will be an interrogation, there will be questions, and you’ll have to answer them. “Rape. At first. Then he moved me to a lab, and started experimenting on me with V. He shot me with it four times, and I got new powers each time. The first one was the healing. Others and I-“

“And others?” MM interrupts, frowning at you. “You can heal other people?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, giving him small smile you know looks pathetic. “But I have to touch them. And I, I can’t.” You turn back to Mallory. “That was the second one. Empathy. I can feel others emotions, when I touch them. And I can’t control it.”

Mallory hums, scanning over you in a way that makes you feel small. “Can you control any of it?”

That makes something shrink in your chest, feel a little weaker under your skin. “Sometimes. I can do the healing, but not the empathy. And the fire is, um, hard.”

“But that’s three.” Mallory says, and you know where this is going. You’re going to have to make a choice. “You said you had four shots.”

“The third one,” you pause, and decide to just fucking lie. Homelander doesn’t know, no one knows, and you don’t even trust Mallory with Homelander’s full intentions behind the rape. You’re not going to trust her with this. “Didn’t work. Nothing happened. It’s just three powers, and they’re pretty unrelated, so-“

“You’re the Anomaly.” MM mutters from the side, and you have to not flinch at the words. “Fuck, that does,” he looks to Mallory, and she’s still watching you. “It tracks, Grace.”

Mallory just nods, leaning over the table as she addresses you. “How long ago was this?”

“Maybe three years ago. They didn’t exactly give me a calendar, and I’m not exactly sure what day I escaped. It was around when they,” you tilt your head to Butcher and Hughie. “Were working with Solider Boy. I remember seeing that on the news, then his death like a week later-“

“He didn’t die.” Annie pipes in, and Butcher scowls, glowering at her.

“Oi, Starlight, she don’t need to know that-“

“If she’s staying, she does!” Annie snaps, holding Butcher’s glare. “It’s important, especially with Homelander’s relation to that old asshole-“

You frown. “His relation?”

“Solider Boy is Homelander’s father.” Hughie tells you, wincing slightly as Butcher’s glare turns to him. “And I, I agree with Annie. You should,” he between Mallory and Butcher. “She should know these things. They’re important, and I don’t really see the harm in her knowing, right?”

Frenchie nods. “Oui, it is not as if it will be consequential for her to know. Soldier Boy is in a deep nap, she is not, but it may be of,” he pauses, looking you over. “Aid to know what makes Homelander go-“ He makes a whistling sound, and Hughie nods.

“Exactly. I mean, with Solider Boy, it’s not like they’ll ever meet, right? Or like, talk. And if she’s going to stay-“

“We ain’t decided that yet, lad-“

“But my vote is she does!” Hughie’s voice is oddly pleading as he cuts off Butcher, and you don’t really understand why. “I think she could be useful! Just to like, heal us, right?”

“I’m with Hughie-“

Butcher rolls his eyes, cutting Annie off. “Ain’t that a shocker-“

"Well, I am!” Annie snaps, turning to Mallory. “My vote is she stays.”

Frenchie and Kimiko begin to agree, and you’re trying to focus on that instead of how they’d inadvertently revealed that they’d been considering getting rid of you instead of just poking your brain. You try to focus on how they’re trusting you with what’s likely top-secret information about Solider Boy—which you don’t really care about within itself, because what the fuck are you going to do with that knowledge—instead of how Butcher and MM seem to be unsure if you’re worth keeping around. In all fairness, MM seems more worried about your health, but Butcher seems to blatantly view you as a liability.

And you are. Everyone has somehow decided that you being smart and circumstantially helpful is worth how—with one wrong misstep or thought of Homelander—you might kill them all.

But Mallory gives in, says you can stick around to be a healer and extra set of hands, and that’s it. Butcher lost, and you’re part of this now. For good.

And that’s something. It’s a way to help. A way to not just be a body rotting in a white room or standing at a grave. It’s a way to drag yourself through blood and get everyone to an ending, even if you don’t see it. To offer the world a future where you’ll be covered in ash and nothing will matter, but everyone else will be safe.

You don’t really need to be safe, or happy. You just need to keep going until you collapse, and cut off your every limb until the world is happy, and crawl until they have a reason to bury you somewhere beautiful and alive.

End Note: Thank you to @thegildedblogger for the opportunity to make angst without being yelled at!

MM is God's Strongest Soldier, because can you imagine taking in a fire lady under the assumption she'll just help you kill Homelander, only for Her to immediately turn around and fall in love with your worst enemy? I'd cry.

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[literary-motif]

Hiiii!~ :DD I just can't believe no one has asked for this yet, but ISAAC AND PICKLE GARDENING TOGETHER!! <333 I think they would be just ADORABLE!! Maybe both of them will have a little picnic together near the lake... (I think Saku mentioned that he owned one...) Pickle making a flower crown for Isaac :33 And Isaac reminiscing about his mother!

Enjoy The Silence

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Warnings: grief

Isaac was a little nervous. He was very nervous, actually. 

There was a strikingly clear reason why he always hired a gardener. There were two reasons, buried in the ground under the little blue flowers that grew by the headstones. 

Why he had agreed to this, he did not know. The thought of having you in the garden — the garden, the one where he had lost half his heart and the majority of his years alive — made his stomach clench in painful knots. It made him anxious, threatening to pull him into the very depths of a panic attack because only the possibility of losing you to a shot fired from the trees beyond made his eyes tear up as a painful lump formed in his throat.

You had asked him for it, though. You had suggested tending to the delicate blue flowers together — with your eyes glinting in compassion, begging him to allow you this grand gesture of affection that would ease his pain like the first time you had visited their graves together. 

His blood had frozen. The firm, absolute, and forever unchanging ‘no’ stuck on his tongue as he took in your expression of gentle hope. 

I can’t live my life trapped in this house, Isaac. I can’t, no matter how much I love you. 

He swallowed thickly and conceded. 

You had been so happy, turning the whole day into a little event to ease his mind from the heaviness of tending to the flowers growing on his family’s graves. There was a picnic basket, complete with a blanket, standing by in the kitchen for when you were done. The very idea of sitting outside — waiting like sitting ducks to be shot — made him shudder. 

He dreaded this day. He hated that he did. 

“Ready?” you asked, smiling brightly at him as you pulled on gloves for gardening. You had had many occasions to demonstrate your varying skill with plants, although you supposed ridding the flowers of weeds and trimming the bush a little was different from tending to houseplants. 

He stood staring at the front door, trying to hide the shaking of his hands. 

“Isaac?”

“Do we have to?” he whispered, the vulnerability seeping into his tone wiping the smile from your face. He sounded close to tears. “Do we have to? I— I’m so scared something might— might—”

You pulled off the gloves, letting them fall to the ground. “Hey, look at me,” you said, resting a hand on his cheek. Isaac turned to face you, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of fear and, you supposed knowing him, shame as well. “We don’t have to do anything if it hurts you this much, sweetheart.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into your touch. “What if I can’t?” he croaked, tears escaping his eyes. “What if I’m never ready? What if this always happens? What if I can’t keep it together at the thought of us going outside? I— I don’t want to lose you. I can’t—”

“Isaac, look at me,” you requested, raising your other hand to his cheek as well. Your fingers played with the strands of hair at his temples, thumbs wiping away the tears trailing down his cheeks. When he slowly opened his eyes, searching your gaze with eyes full of sorrow, you continued, “It’s alright if you’re not ready. It’s okay. Overcoming trauma is hard, I get that — I know that. Healing takes a lot of time, love. The important thing is that you try, and I know you do. You’re so brave every day for me, love, and I will never leave you because of this. Alright? Never, Isaac. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, I know you are doing your best.”

“My best is not enough sometimes,” he admitted quietly, the words tasting like defeat. 

“Don’t even think that!”

“But it’s true! Look at me,” he cried, stepping away from your soft touch to bury his face in his hands. “I can’t even keep my word because I’m so scared. I— the fear feels like it’s eating me up, gnawing away and keeping me paralyzed. I’m forever stuck in this— this house because they are outside and I can’t— I can’t tear myself away and nowhere else is safe.”

Your heart shattered. “Come here,” you said, keeping your voice airily light. It cut through the spiral of his thoughts like a knife, and he crashed into your open arms as if they were his lifeline. You held onto him tightly, running your fingers through his hair in a gesture you knew helped him calm down. “Small steps, Isaac. Yeah?”

“Steps?” he asked incredulously, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve been immobile for years!”

“That’s not true, love. These things take time,” you said, listening to his breathing slowly even out. The tears stopped, although the patch of wetness on your shoulder would remain a moment longer. 

Isaac slowly raised his head, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, his voice strained. He hesitated before retrieving his phone and checking the CCTV. “Just give me a moment, yeah?”

You blinked in surprise. “A moment for what?” you asked, already knowing the answer. 

“A moment to make sure nobody is there to— to hurt us. I checked already, but I want to make sure again before we go out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Pickle.”

“I don’t want to push you, Isaac. Maybe it’s best if we put this off—”

“No! I need to do this,” he said, his tone firm despite the tremor in his voice. “I need to! I can’t stand this anymore. I need to face this. I— I don’t feel ready, but— but I want to.” His eyes roamed over the footage, analyzing every rustling of leaves, checking for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing. Isaac swallowed, closing his eyes to compose himself before plunging into his deepest fear. “You’ll stay by my side, yes?” 

Your gaze softened. “Of course,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “I promise.”

He bent down, picking up your gloves. “Alright,” he breathed, waiting for you to reappear at his side with the picnic basket and gardening tools in hand. “Alright, alright.” His hand hovered above the doorknob.

I want you to know your parents would have been proud of the man you have become, little one.

There was no big event. There was no gunshot — thank god. There was no sound out of the ordinary.

The birds continued chirping. The sun, although occasionally hidden behind a cloud, did not change color. Nothing changed at all as you both stepped outside. Isaac was weary, his eyes darting across the garden in search of something. He barely realized that he was outside at all, that he did it, with your hand tightly clasped in his while his other rested on the gun he couldn’t feel safe without.

“They don’t look so bad. I think a little trimming on the sides is all they need. Look, there are barely any weeds.”

Isaac looked down. After all these years, reading the names on the headstones still knocked the breath out of him. It was also the instance in which he realized — fully and without argument — that he was outside with the love of his life. The realization made him squeeze your hand harder, the feeling of having something incredibly valuable in a place where they were not safe was nearly enough to plunge him into a panic again. 

But he had also faced his fear. He had kept his word, well, half of it. The first step was done, now he only needed to follow the path. 

“You alright?”

He thought for a moment. “Yes,” he replied, surprised that he meant it despite his heart racing. “Do you want to trim or free them from the weeds?”

Gardening was surprisingly relaxing. You were carefully ridding the beautiful bush of flowers from its outreaching branches while Isaac plucked at the weeds growing beneath it on his knees. The conversation turned light, and for the first time in a decade, he forgot the overwhelming fear that came with being beneath a clear sky and allowed himself to chuckle fondly at something you said. 

He paused, practically feeling the flower petals glow with happiness. 

Yes, mom. I miss you too. It hurts every day that you’re not here — I miss you so much it burns a hole in my chest when I breathe. It has gotten easier with them. I love them, and I wish more than anything that you could have met the person who fills the void in my chest with love. I miss you every day. Tell Dad I miss him too and give Grandpa a big hug. I think I missed my chance when he was still here. I love you, take care.

“Isaac?”

He had not even realized that he was crying. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks in rivers that felt like they would never end. His hands were balled into fists, clutching at the earth beneath the flower bush, reminiscent of the time you had prompted him to talk to them for the first time. 

God, it still hurt so much. Why did it still hurt so much?

“I’m fine,” he said, wiping at his eyes. It was useless, the tears would not stop falling. “I— I haven’t— the flowers and— I miss them. I miss them so much.”

You knelt beside him, gathering him into your arms again. Isaac slumped against your side, his blurry vision rising towards the headstones with the names of his family. The sight made his lower lip wobble, the feeling of drowning in his grief and sorrow overwhelming. He thought he would have if you had not been there to hold him together. 

There was a reason he had never allowed himself to feel the extent of his pain when he was alone. He could not have born it. The misery and grief of his life would have crushed him, leaving him untethered in an unforgiving world with people who relied on him, expecting him to carry on his grandfather’s legacy like he had promised he would. 

He had never allowed himself to feel the extent of his loss, and now that he knew he could — no need to hide from it behind whiskey glasses and ceiling-high towers of paper — it devoured him whole. He let it because he knew you were there to anchor him.

The flowers were done, and once the sun had begun its descent and noon turned into late evening, you found yourself spread out on the picnic blanket by the lake, plucking the daisies with the longest stems as Isaac’s head rested on your thigh. 

He was eating one of the chocolate muffins you had baked, his tears long since dried. There was a slight downturn to his lips, betraying his somber thoughts despite the peaceful scenery around you. 

“She hated baking,” he admitted quietly. 

You halted your weaving, glancing at him. Instead of the bleak, sorrowful expression you had been expecting, there was a fond smile on his face. 

“I used to make cookies with my father. We would— we would spend hours decorating them with icing and putting little designs on them. My mother liked cooking. She— she tried teaching me, but I wasn’t very interested. I mean, I was a kid. I preferred baking, but— You know, I wish I would have listened to her more. I wish I— I had appreciated them all more and now—” he broke off with a sigh, the fond memory charing at the edges as he was reminded of the harsh reality that they were gone. He would never again roll out dough with his father, or listen to his mother’s gentle instructions on how to make the perfect Goya.

You finished the flower crown, turning it around in your hands before placing it on Isaac’s head gently. He looked up at you, the expression of melancholy fading as he gave you a sweet smile. 

“We’ll make the most of our time as well, love.”

[the-atlas-sister]

Relationship Headcannons with my Favorite Boyyo

Tanjiro

It would take a long ass time for you two to get together

You for sure caught feelings first

You first met while you were training at the Butterfly mansion. You were only one of the assistants at the mansion but desperately wanted to become a more important part of the core.

You had training in secret on your own, afraid that Shinobou found you doing so, she’d reject your request.

This is where Tanjiro found you. As he was recovering at the mansion he would watch you in secret, admiring your grit and progress.

Finally he decided to surprise and compliment you.

Now, Tanjiro popping out from behind a tree seemed like a good idea in his mind- but it was a horrific experience for you

As soon as he popped out, he was punched square in the nose. You soon realized you just punched a demon slayer and began to profusely apologize.

You begged him to forgive you and tell no one in the mansion of what you had been doing. Tanjiro grew confused and you explained the situation.

“I’m sure Miss Shinobou would let you train to become a Slayer!”

“I can’t risk it yet. Until then, I’ll continue training on my own.”

“Please allow me to train with you Miss Y/n!”

From then on, Tanjiro trained with you. Throughout your training together, you developed feelings for the redhead boy, admiring his strength and perseverance. You even got to get close to Nezuko!

Now, Tanjiro started developing feelings as well, but he didn’t exactly understand what they were. As far as he knew, he just admired you. A lot.

He didn’t realize his feelings until the entertainment district.

You were one of the only female core members who actually volunteered to go with Tengen, (despite Tanjiro’s protests).

Throughout the mission itself, you didn’t interact much due to you being bought by the same house as Zenitzu.

His feelings became realized in the final battle between the horrid demon siblings.

“TANJIRO!”

Tanjiro was awoken by the sound of your voice. He was surrounded by the burning remnants of the small town. His head and vision was fuzzy. Nezuko!, he thought. He felt around best he could with his beaten body. He let out a relieved breath as he felt the small and unharmed box that lay next to him.

Wait- y/n! He grew panicked once more when he was unable to see your body in the rubble. Where were you? He hadn’t see you since the explosion. Did you escape before it happened? Were you under the rubble? Had you…

No. You’re far too quick to have been killed by an explosion.

Keep it out of your mind Tanjiro.

“Well, well,” Gyturora laughed as he approached the bleeding boy. “You’re still alive?”

“I feel sorry for you. Everyone but you is probably done for.

A single thrust to that boar’s heart. That towheaded boy’s trapped under the rubble, and he’s flailing, so I’m just going to leave him there until he dies. Squirming like an insect… How disgraceful is that!

And how weak was that Hashira! All he had was bluster! The poison got to him, stopping his heart, and now he’s dead! It’s all over for him!

So disgraceful! So disgraceful! You four are truly disgraceful! Especially you! You’re in another league!”

The demon looked at the small box.

“The one sticking out of that box you carry is a relative, right? I can tell that she’s closely related to you even if she’s a demon now. Is she your older or younger sister?”

Tanjiro feels a tinge of anger at the teasing.

“Nezuko, is my younger sister,” he panted out.

The demon cackled. “Just as I thought! You really are a disgrace! You’re not protecting your little sister at all!” He kneeled down in front of Tanjiro. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Since you’re a human and your sister’s a demon.

Of course you’re weaker than your demon sister. Even so, what a disgrace!

If you’re her big bro…”

He grabbed Tanjiro’s hand. “…instead of being protected by your little sister, you should be protecting her. Devotedly. With this hand, see?”

Gyturora snapped Tanjiro’s pointer and middle finger with ease.

Tanjiro let out a grunt of pain, making the demon cackle with malicious enjoyment.

“Stop it!”

Both froze at the sound.

No, not now. God, Y/n. Please.

Tanjiro watched as you stumbled forward. Your side was bleeding, and a bits and pieces of wood were stuck in your face.

“Stop saying those things!” You coughed, splatters of blood falling from your lips. “How dare you say some things about him when you know nothing! Tanjiro is a wonderful brother! He’d do anything for Nezuko!”

Tanjiro stared at you as you spoke. He felt his heart grow full despite his pain.

“Keep your tongue behind your lips and stop talking about him in such a way, you disgrace of a demon!”

The demon in question began to laugh, scratching at his face.

“The Hashira isn’t the only one with beautiful lovers, is he?” He growled as blood dripped from his face. “Lucky, lucky guy.”

“Ugh, brother just let me kill her,” Daki whined, rolling her eyes from her place on one of the piles of rubble. “And kill him.”

“You’re head will drop from your body before you touch him!” you yelled, your eyes burning in a way Tanjiro had never seen before. “I won’t let you-“ You were cut off by Gyturora’s sickle burying itself into your stomach.

“Y/N!” Tanjiro yelled as you let out a gasp and collapsed to the ground.

After the fight- you woke back in the butterfly mansion, with Tanjiro and Nezuko by your side.

As soon as they noticed you had awoken, Nezuko started crying and gave you a big hug.

Tanjiro just smiled at you with tears in his eyes. You looked at him.

Then the rest was history

Now don’t get it wrong, it still took years for both of you to confess.

He did so first, after he came back from an especially difficult mission. As soon as he returned, he was greeted with a warm hug from yourself.

He returned it, burying his face in your neck and taking in your scent. He held you tightly, afraid to let go.

“I love you.”

That was all you needed. You of course returned his love.

Dating Tanjiro is bliss

He dates with the intention of marriage. Ever since he realized how much he loves you, he’s been fantasizing of marrying you and starting a family of his own.

You don’t mind though, he is pure husband material.

He will cook for you and constantly is bringing you little gifts. He is usually pretty good with impulse control but if he sees something that reminds him of you, he will buy it.

There is never a day that goes by where he doesn’t remind you that he loves you and why. You often start your morning with him staring at you as if he’s falling in love all over again.

I’m bed- he’s always very gentle. He does believe that sex should happen within the confines of marriage and so he insists on waiting until then.

He always wants to focus on your body’s needs above his own. Your pleasure comes first

He’s also very quiet in bed, he’ll groan and grunt occasionally but the most noise he usually makes is praise for you

Marry him.

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

for those of you asking for the garden scene (tumblr's search function is off the shits) it's below the cut. remember, the Princeton draft is from 1924-25, and it came before Trimalchio. It's handwritten and I'm still. trying to transcribe it. while working a full time job and still providing fic. it's coming. i promise.

After that I watched for Gatsby, and found him several evenings later, coming across my own lawn. He had lost a little of his ruddy tan and his eyes were bright and tired. We sat down on a bench in the yard.

“Going away?” I asked.

“No, old man. Why do you ask me that?”

“I hear you fired all your servants.”

“I had to have somebody that could keep their mouths shut,” he replied after a minute. “These two towns are pretty close together.”

“Where’d you find these?” I inquired, a little startled by the romantic revelation.

“They’re some of Wolfshiem’s people.” He broke off. “Can you come to lunch at Daisy’s house next Saturday?”

“All right.”

We sat for a few minutes in silence. Then he asked me if he could tell me about something that was on his mind, something that had happened to him when he first knew Daisy several years ago.

“Will I bore you?” He looked up quickly. “For God’s sake tell me if it’ll bore you.”

“It won’t bore me.”

They had been walking together down the street one autumn night when the leaves were falling, and they came to a place where there were no trees and the sidewalk was white with moonlight. They stopped here and turned toward each other. Now it was a cool night with that mysterious excitement in it which comes at the two changes of the year and Gatsby became aware that everything was alive. The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and a bustle among the stars. He took a step toward her, perceiving out of the corner of his eye that the blocks of the sidewalk formed a ladder and mounted to a roof garden above the trees where one could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.

His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the humming and the song. Then he kissed her. At his lips touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.

…He didn’t really say any of this. What he said was that she had been an “ideal” of his, and that he’d never have such ideals about things or girls anymore.

“Well, you have Daisy,” I said. “After all she ought to be a pretty satisfactory incarnation of anything.”

“She is,” he answered without conviction. “But it’s a little like loving a place where you’ve once been happy.”

“You don’t know what you want,” I told him impatiently. “You wait three years and then after three weeks you’re tired.”

“We all grow old,” I told him. “It seems to me you’ve come pretty close to getting all your desires.”

“I haven’t got anything,” he said simply. “I thought for a while I had a lot of things, my house—“ He looked up at it for an instant— “and things like that. But the truth is I’m empty and I guess people feel it. That must be why they keep on making up things about me, so I won’t be so empty. Why,— Daisy’s all I’ve got left of a world that was so wonderful that when I think of it I feel sick all over.” He looked around with wild regret. “Let me sing you a song—I want to sing you a song!”

He began to sing a song in a low unmusical baritone. The tune seemed to be a rough compendium of all the tunes of twenty years ago. It went about like this:

“We hear the tinkle of the gay guitars We see the shining Southern moon; Where the fire-flies flit And the June bugs sit Drones the cricket’s single tune. We hear the lapping of the wavelets Where the lonesome nightbirds sing And the soft warm breeze Tell the tall palm trees The Dreamy Song of Spring”

“I made it up when I was fourteen,” he said eagerly, “and the sound of it always makes me perfectly happy. But I don’t sing it often now because I’m afraid I’ll use it up.”

Through all he said, even through the doggerel of the song, I was reminded of something that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound and what it was that I had almost remembered was incommunicable forever.

[giveafike]

Silent Night, No More - B.T.S

TLDR: CHRISTMAS EVE! This is part 12/12, the last part of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: Christmas Eve chapter! Finally here, phew! Enjoy reading, and have a lovelyyyy holiday szn my loves <3 be safe and I wish nothing but peace and joy for u and ur loved ones :)

————————————————————————

Christmas Eve dawned on the house, and as soon as the house awakened, excitement and joy immediately lit the house throughout each room. Lisa’s kitchen felt like the heart of the house, beating warm and alive, with an aroma that wafted through the house, every surface serving a purpose as she began cooking the dishes, getting everything for the feast set to ensue later. The counters were a cluttered symphony of ingredients, flour-dusted bowls, glass jars of different herbs and spices, and a large array of serving dishes and other equipment. The oven hummed, working overtime while the gas stoves remained alight with several pots atop, as trays of stuffing and casseroles exchanged places. Lisa moved with the confidence of a seasoned cook, wielding her wooden spoon like a wand.

You, Emma and Ben, had weaved in and out throughout the day, helping clean up the kitchen or assisting in tasting and aiding in preparing some of the dishes. Still, truly Lisa seemed to have it under control, especially with all the prep you both had done the other day. Now it was more a case of gossiping and talking, keeping company while the minutes ticked away while Ben got shooed away to set up the large dining table and the kid's table for dinner.

Emma leaned against the counter, sneaking a piece of carrot from the chopping board while Lisa’s back was turned. “Caught you. Down, girl,” Lisa said without even looking, and Emma’s hand froze mid-air.

“Dang it,” Emma muttered, popping the stolen piece into her mouth anyway. “You’ve got eyes in the back of your head.”

“Mother’s intuition,” Lisa replied, her tone amused as she sprinkled paprika over a bubbling dish. Then, she turned to you. “You keeping her in check?”

You raised both hands in mock surrender. “She’s a free spirit. What am I to do, Lis?”

Emma giggled, linking her arm through yours. “Come on, let’s get ready before Mom ropes us into something else.”

In Emma’s room, Christmas jumpers were laid out on her bed like a festive fashion show. “We’ve got options for the both of us, but you have to wear a Christmas jumper - no escape,” she declared, holding up two hangers.

One featured a fluffy snowman surrounded by tiny, twinkling LED lights; the other was a maroon sweater adorned with white snowflakes and reindeer. “Which one says ‘I’m the life of the party, but also an excellent gift recipient’?”

You laughed, pointing to the reindeer sweater. “Definitely this one.”

She handed it to you before holding up another for herself, a green jumper with a cheerful Santa Claus and jingling bells stitched onto the sleeves. “Perfect,” she declared. “Let’s get festive.”

As you pulled on the sweater and paired it with a sweet black pleated skirt, you glanced at yourself in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. It was cozy and just the right amount of ridiculous. You pulled your hair back and did light makeup, just blush and concealer and a touch of mascara. Emma, already fully dressed, fluffed her hair and tugged you into a selfie. “Documenting this for the archives,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

The two of you headed back downstairs, where Ben was crouched by the Christmas tree, adjusting the gifts as he snuck his Secret Santa present there too. He stood up as you entered, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. His own jumper, a deep red one with white reindeer, matched yours almost exactly.

Emma burst out laughing. “You two look like you planned this!”

“We didn’t!” you protested, feigning annoyance though your cheeks burned as Ben looked at you, his smile widening.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, tugging at his sleeve. “Guess great minds think alike.”

Back in the kitchen, Bryan had just returned, jingling his keys as he carried in a bag filled with snacks.

“Got the goods!” he announced, setting the bag down on the counter. “And before anyone asks, yes, I did mean to buy candy canes the day before Christmas.”

“Uh-huh,” Lisa said, arching an eyebrow. She reached into the bag and pulled out a pack of marshmallows. “And these were on the list?”

“Essential for s'mores,” Bryan said, unrepentant. Then, leaning closer to Lisa, he added in a low voice, “I stopped by the PO Box.”

Lisa smirked knowingly. “Last-minute gift retrieval?”

“Shh,” Bryan replied, holding a finger to his lips as he glanced at you and Emma. “Not a word.”

“Don’t worry,” Emma said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “Your secret’s safe with us…for now.”

As Bryan moved past you, he clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You all set up here, kid?”

“Mostly,” Ben replied. He gestured to the table with a sweeping hand. “You want to check my work?”

Bryan squinted at the table like a coach assessing a play. “Not bad, not bad. You might have a future in hospitality if this tennis thing doesn't work out, son.”

Ben rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips. “Good to know I’ve got options.”

As the sun began to set, the kitchen became a flurry of activity. Lisa transferred dishes to serving platters while Emma handled the gravy, stirring it with exaggerated care while you got the cranberry sauce ready. “Gotta keep the lumps out,” she said, winking at you.

Bryan circled back, snagging a piece of bread from the cutting board and earning a sharp “Bryan!” from Lisa.

“What? Quality control,” he defended, chewing unabashedly. Then he turned to you. “By the way, you’re fitting in around here like you’ve been part of the family for years. Good job surviving this lot.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a laugh. “I’m enjoying every chaotic minute.”

Bryan smiled warmly, and for a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes softened as he pat your back. “We’re glad to have you here. Really.”

Ben leaned against the counter beside you, brushing your shoulder with his. “Told you they’d love you,” he said quietly.

Your chest warmed as you turned to him, your voice soft. “Guess I’m just lucky to have the best companion.”

Ben smirked, nudging you lightly. “Please, lucky’s an understatement.”

“Alright, you three,” Lisa called, pointing her spoon at you, Ben and Emma as you stood near the cabinets. “The nice plates and cutlery are in the top drawer, and the good cups are wrapped in the linen closet. Don’t break anything.”

Emma rolled her eyes with a grin, nudging you. “She acts like we’re five. Come on, let’s make this table look like a magazine spread.”

The two of you dug out the plates, admiring the intricate designs that only ever came out for Christmas. Emma carried the stack carefully, while you followed with the silverware and cups, setting them down on the dining table where Ben was already arranging the candles and centrepiece.

“Keep it neat, Benny,” Emma teased as she set the plates down. “This isn’t your tennis playstyle; exactness matters.”

Ben shot her a playful glare, adjusting a placemat just to spite her. “Precision’s my speciality, Em. You’re lucky I’m not measurin' angles here.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you placed forks and knives neatly beside the plates. The three of you worked in unison, the table gradually transforming into a picture-perfect setup with now lit candles, a centrepiece of poinsettias, and a sprinkling of gold and red decor.

As the sun dipped low, the food was plated onto the good dishes and placed in warming trays, bowls and serving trays, the kitchen alive with the clatter of lids and Lisa’s cheerful humming. Bryan returned to the rest of you, a sheepish smile plastered on his face after swiftly tossing his Secret Santa gift beneath the tree.

With the house organised and ready it wasn't long before the family began to arrive.

The door opened to a flood of warmth and sound. Aunts and uncles piled in with cheerful exclamations, small children rowdy and excited darting through your legs, and laughter filled the space as Ben’s family began their Christmas Eve takeover. The smell of cookies, pine, and faint notes of perfume wafted in with them, making the house feel even cozier.

Ben and Emma led the welcoming committee, diving into hugs and playful jabs like they’d been waiting all year for this moment. You followed closely, feeling the contagious energy of their enthusiasm.

One of Ben’s aunts, her arms full of baked goods, set them down to pull you into a tight hug. “Oh, so you’re the one,” she said with a knowing smile. “Ben’s talked about you nonstop. We were beginning to think you weren’t real!”

“I’m real, I promise,” you replied, laughing as she squeezed you again.

Ben’s grandmother was next, her soft hands wrapping around yours as she studied you closely. Her eyes crinkled with warmth. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said, her drawl wrapping around the words like a melody. “This boy better be treatin’ you right.”

“Oh, he is, it's a pleasure to finally meet you,” you assured her, feeling your cheeks warm under her kind gaze.

Ben appeared behind you, throwing an arm around his grandmother’s shoulders. “Nana, you’re embarrassing me,” he teased, though the fondness in his tone was unmistakable.

“Good,” she shot back, giving his arm a light slap before turning back to you, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “We’ll talk more later, sweetheart.”

The uncles were just as welcoming, their handshakes firm and accompanied by wide grins. One leaned in conspiratorially, muttering, “If Ben’s giving you any trouble, let me know. I’ve got plenty of stories that’ll keep him humble.”

“Noted,” you said, unable to suppress your giggles.

Before long, the younger cousins made their presence known. They were a whirlwind of energy, zipping through the living room like tiny tornados. One darted behind you hiding, clearly using you as an advantage for a game of tag, giggling maniacally as another launched themselves at Ben, wrapping their arms around his waist.

“Ben!” the little one squealed.

“Oh no, not again,” Ben groaned dramatically, lifting the child effortlessly and perching them on his shoulders. “Alright, who’s next? Form a line!”

Three more cousins swarmed him, clambering up his legs and giggling as he tried to fend them off with mock protests. “I’m not a jungle gym!” he shouted, though his wide smile betrayed him.

You watched from the side, laughing at the chaos. One cousin paused mid-sprint to look up at you with curious eyes. “Are you his girlfriend?”

Before you could answer, Emma swooped in. “She’s our new favourite family member,” she said with a wink, ushering the little one back into the fray.

Dinner was nothing short of a spectacle. The dining table stretched to its limit, every inch covered with dishes that looked like they’d been lifted from the pages of a holiday cookbook. Platters of turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cornbread vied for space with glasses of sparkling cider and wine.

Lisa stood at the head of the table, raising her hands to gather everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “Before we dig in, let’s join hands for a quick prayer.”

You reached for the hands nearest to you, finding Ben’s warm grip on one side and his grandmother’s gentle hold on the other. The room quieted as Lisa spoke.

“Dear Lord,” she began, her voice steady and heartfelt. “Thank you for this family, for this meal, and for the blessing of being together on this special night. May we remember the joy of giving, the love that binds us, and the hope that tomorrow brings. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed through the room, and then the feast began.

The meal was a lively affair, filled with overlapping conversations, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter. Ben’s younger cousins, who had temporarily calmed down enough to eat, couldn’t resist sneaking off with a plate of sugar cookies halfway through dinner. They reappeared moments later with suspiciously sweet-smelling fingers and wide-eyed innocence.

Ben caught them red-handed. “Hey! Those are for dessert, y'all are some sneaky lil-!” he feigned anger, chasing them around the table while the rest of the family laughed.

"He always finds a way to sneak back to the kid's table, huh?" one voice laughed.

Bryan just shook his head, pretending to be disappointed as he took a deep sigh, "Every year..."

Once everyone had eaten their fill, the group naturally drifted to the living room, bunching up together. The kids wasted no time sprawling across the carpet in front of the TV, eyes glued to the animated version of The Grinch that played on the screen while milk, cookies and other sweet treats were shared amongst them. Their giggles punctuated the festive chatter, pillows and blankets passed between them like treasures.

The adults, meanwhile, settled into clusters around the room, the cozy couches and armchairs filling quickly. Ben was at the centre of one group, effortlessly juggling questions about his career with that easy charm of his.

“So, what’s next for you, big shot?” one of his uncles teased, though the pride in his voice was unmistakable. “Still aiming for top 10?”

Ben leaned back against the couch, his posture relaxed but attentive. His arm rested along the back of the cushion behind you, a subtle but comforting presence.

“That’s the plan. It’s been a good year so far, but next season’s gonna be a whole new level. A lot of travel, a lot of long days, but I’m ready for it.”

Another uncle nodded approvingly. “As long as you’re enjoying it,” he said, his tone warm. “That’s what matters. Doesn’t hurt that you’re putting our name on the map, either.”

Ben smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with quiet pride. “Yeah, it’s been fun. It’s a lot of work, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

One of his aunts, sitting on the edge of a loveseat nearby, chimed in. “Well, it’s been amazing watching you shine, Ben. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“I’ve got that covered,” Ben assured her, his eyes briefly flicking to you. “It helps to have good people around to keep me grounded.”

The conversation naturally shifted, as all eyes subtly turned toward you. It wasn’t sudden or forced, just a gentle pivot, like a tide rolling in.

Ben’s aunt leaned forward slightly, her expression curious but kind.

“So,” she began, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, “what’s it been like being with Ben? I mean, being with someone who’s on the road so much, always on tour. That’s gotta be… a lot on your shoulders too, sweetheart.”

Ben glanced at you, his expression softening in quiet encouragement as if to say, It’s okay, be honest.

“It definitely has its challenges,” you admitted. “There’s a lot of planning and juggling schedules, but honestly, it’s worth it. Ben has a way of making every moment feel important, even if we don’t get as much time together as we’d like. Quality time over the quantity of time, y'know?”

One of the uncles grinned knowingly, his voice teasing but kind. “Sounds like our Benny’s doing something right for a change.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “You’re not wrong,” he quipped, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Another voice chimed in, tone pensive. “I can imagine it takes patience. And maybe even a little creativity? It's not like you can always go out or be public, goodness...”

You nodded, humming in agreeance. “Exactly. But it helps that he’s so passionate about what he does. It’s easy to root for someone when you see how much they love what they’re doing. And we're both good at making time for each other and communicating, it works out well.”

“She’s been good around here, huh?” one of the uncles said, gesturing toward you. “Lis, I don’t think we’ve seen you this relaxed in a long time.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, looking mock-offended. “Excuse me, I am the epitome of relaxed all the time.”

Bryan, returning from the kitchen with a plate of s'mores for the kids, snorted. “Mmhmm, sure you are.”

Lisa waved him off but smiled warmly, her gaze landing on you. “She’s been a breath of fresh air, that’s for sure. I don’t know how Ben managed to talk her into coming down here to spend it with us, but I’m glad he did.”

Ben’s grandmother nodded in agreement, breaking into a gentle smile. “Me too,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “It’s been lovely having you here with us. How’s it been, spending the holidays with all of us? We can be a little… energetic.”

The warmth in the room was palpable, and you felt your cheeks heat at the attention. “Thank you,” you said, your voice earnest. “It’s been incredible. I think I’ve been smiling nonstop since I got here. Everyone’s been so welcoming, it really feels like being part of something special.”

A ripple of murmured appreciation and smiles went around the room, and one of Ben’s uncles, seated with a glass of cider in hand, grinned broadly. “Well, that’s good to hear. We don’t exactly do quiet, but we do a whole lotta love.”

“It shows,” you replied, a genuine smile on your face. “It’s a good kind of chaos. It’s been easy to feel at home.”

The kids erupted into another round of laughter, their voices catching the attention of the room as one tried to mimic the Grinch’s dramatic sly walk, much to the delight of the other children. Their antics drew the group’s attention for a moment, lightening the mood even further.

Ben's hand found its way to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. His voice filled with pride but just above a whisper. “You okay?” His gaze held yours, steady and sincere.

You turned to him, your smile growing softer. “Yeah,” you said quietly, just for him. “Better than okay.”

He smiled that private little grin that was just for you, and gave your shoulder another reassuring squeeze and a pressing kiss to your temple before turning back to the room. His arm stayed where it was, a silent claim and sign of pride.

As the conversation dropped into a story time of some incident earlier this month you took a moment or two to just sit there surrounded by laughter, chatter, and warmth, feeling entirely at peace. It wasn’t just Ben, it was the family, the energy, and the way they opened their home and hearts to you. You glanced at him again, finding him already looking at you, and you couldn’t help but think, this feels like home.

The room quieted slightly as the conversation dwindled down, which prompted Bryan to stand and clap his hands once, the sound cutting through the chatter. “Alright, everyone, settle down, I think it’s Secret Santa time!”

The announcement was met with cheers, laughter, and some playful groans from the kids, who had long forgone the Grinch and were more interested in a game of play-fighting each other and bouncing on the couch. Lisa emerged from the kitchen with a tray of hot cocoa for the younger ones, while the adults pulled their chairs closer into a semi-circle around the Christmas tree.

“Okay,” Bryan started, grabbing a gift and reading the tag, “this one’s for… Em!”

Emma squealed in delight and scrambled forward, nearly tripping over one of the little cousins who stuck themselves out last minute. She took the neatly wrapped gift from Bryan’s hands, plopped down cross-legged in front of the tree, and tore into it with dramatic flair.

“Oh my gosh!” she shrieked, holding up a beautiful matching outdoor all-weather jacket set, one for her and Halo, alongside a bracelet and dog collar. The colours complemented Halo’s coat perfectly, and there was even a little charm engraved with Halo’s name. “This is so cute, all I put on my wishlist was somethin' for me 'n Halo, who did this?”

You raised your hand a little shy. “That’d be me.”

Emma’s pout was instant and exaggerated, but her eyes sparkled. “You! You’re too good at this!” She bolted up, practically leaping at you as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Her lips pressed a loud, playful kiss to your cheek before she pulled back. “Seriously, this is the best. Thank you!” She immediately began calling Halo over to try on his new gift, beaming with excitement.

Bryan reached for the next present, his grin wide. “Alright, next up… this one’s for Ben.”

Ben took the box with an exaggerated bow, earning laughter and applause. He made a show of shaking it next to his ear, grinning mischievously. “Hmm, feels important,” he teased, glancing at you like you might give something away.

“Just open it, drama king,” Emma called, rolling her eyes.

Ben tore the wrapping away, revealing a sleek black journal and a beautifully designed scratch-off world map. His smile softened as he turned the journal over in his hands, fingers grazing the cover. “This is perfect,” he said, his voice quieter now. He looked around the room, his expression genuinely touched. “I’ve been wanting something like this, I'll do a review on tour and write it down. Thank you, secret Santa.”

“You're welcome,” Lisa admitted, raising her hand with a proud smile. “I figured you could use it for your next season. Better than the normal bunch I get you.”

Ben crossed the room in a few strides, leaning down to kiss his mom on the cheek. “You nailed it,” he said, his gratitude evident.

The next few rounds brought a mix of hilarity and sentimentality. One uncle unwrapped a set of novelty socks featuring flamingos in Santa hats, which sent the room into fits of laughter. An older cousin received a set of gourmet spice blends for their newly discovered love of cooking. One of the younger kids was delighted with a jellycat plushie and various popular blind-boxes, which they immediately hugged to their chest.

Finally, Bryan reached for the gift labelled with your name. “This one’s for you,” he said, handing it over with a grin.

You took the gift, noticing the impeccable wrapping job. “Someone had this done professionally,” you teased, shaking the box gently before pulling at the tape. The room watched eagerly as you opened it, revealing a beautifully curated gift set: an engraved charm bracelet and a luxurious throw blanket in your favourite colour.

“Wow,” you murmured, touched by the thoughtfulness. You glanced up after a few seconds, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on Bryan, who was sitting suspiciously still, legs crossed, a smile tugging at his lips as he tried to cover his mouth from giving him away.

“Bryan!” you exclaimed, laughing as you stood. His wide grin gave him away immediately. "Terrible poker face."

“Guilty,” he admitted, rising to meet your hug. His arms wrapped warmly around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” you said, squeezing him back before sitting down again.

As the gifts continued to be opened, the room filled with laughter and joy. Lisa’s gift, a handmade quilt stitched with everyone’s names, earned her a round of applause, while Ben’s grandmother unwrapped a stunning piece of holiday artwork for her mantle, bringing tears to her eyes.

By the time the final gift was opened, everyone was either laughing, hugging, or marvelling at the thoughtfulness of the night, not one present unappreciated. It was pure magic, exactly the kind of warmth and connection that made this holiday unforgettable.

It wasn't long before the well-loved karaoke machine turned into the centrepiece of the late evening. After the initial warm-up of Feliz Navidad with you, Ben, and Emma leading the mission to get everyone in the mood, the night unfolded with a lively lineup of songs. Bryan’s spirited Jingle Bell Rock performance had everyone laughing and clapping, his dramatic hip wiggles earning him a standing ovation from the kids. Lisa’s O Holy Night was a showstopper; her voice soared so beautifully that even the little ones paused their antics to listen momentarily.

The room erupted into applause when she finished, with Bryan dramatically wiping away a fake tear and declaring, “That’s my wife!”

Throughout it all the kids, despite their sugar highs, began to wear down with a sugar crash. One by one, they started curling up on couches, leaning against older cousins, or lying on the plush carpet in front of the tree. Ben surprised everyone with a charmingly off-key rendition of Last Christmas, dedicating it to you while his family howled in laughter when he purposefully butchered the high notes.

“Don’t quit your day job, son,” Bryan teased, throwing a decorative pillow at him.

“Oh, I think I nailed it,” Ben shot back, winking at you as he handed the microphone off to the next brave soul.

You even found yourself roped into a duet with Emma, an upbeat version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, earning a cheer when you both ended with exaggerated bows and somehow, tinsel garlands around your necks like scarves. The energy in the room shifted to a more relaxed hum as the night wore on. Conversations grew quieter, and laughter turned softer as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

By the time the last notes of karaoke faded, the practical task of winding down the house began. Air mattresses were pulled from closets and inflated in the living room for the family staying over. Emma tossed pillows and blankets onto each one, laughing when Ben dropped onto one mattress dramatically, testing its bounce like a kid.

“Ben, you’re gonna pop that thing!” Lisa called from the kitchen, her voice holding a mix of amusement and warning.

The others slowly began to filter out, gathering their coats and wishing everyone a cheerful goodnight and a Merry Christmas. Hugs were exchanged at the door, the promise of seeing each other bright and early the next morning lingering in the air.

The house finally quieted as only the immediate family remained on their feet.

Together, you, Ben, Lisa, Bryan, and Emma tackled the cleanup. Dishes clinked in the sink as Bryan dried them off while Lisa packed leftovers into tupperware with precision. You and Emma worked side by side, wiping down the counters and collecting the last of the wrapping paper scattered near the tree.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Emma quipped, passing you another wet cloth.

Ben appeared behind you, reaching for the glasses you’d just dried. “Or at least keeps us from being here until morning,” he added, flashing you a quick grin.

As the final crumbs were swept and the house was put back in order, you found yourself in the kitchen with Ben. He leaned against the counter, his phone in hand, its faint glow casting a soft light across his face. When he caught a glimpse of you, his brows unfurrowed as he quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“Caught you,” you teased, stepping closer. “Being sneaky again?”

“Maybe... just trust me, alright? You’ll see soon enough.”

You tilted your head, pretending to scrutinize him. “You’re lucky tonight was perfect, or I might press you for answers.”

“Perfect, huh?” He pushed off the counter and closed the space between you, his hands brushing yours before settling gently on your waist. “So, my crazy family didn’t scare you off?”

“Not even close,” you murmured, smiling up at him. “They’re wonderful. Tonight was… everything.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

The clock above the stove caught your eye as it ticked past midnight. A small laugh escaped you. “Ben,” you said, nudging him gently, “it’s officially Christmas!”

He caught a glimpse of the clock, his eyes wide as a smile broke out on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you mumbled before the moment could pass, he leaned down and kissed you, a soft, unhurried kiss that made the world outside of this moment melt away.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his hand cradling your face, breath warm as it mingled with yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the hum of the dishwasher and the faint creak of the settling house the only sounds around you.

His hands slid down to yours, fingers intertwining as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “For being here. For everything.”

You smiled softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

The warmth between you was all-encompassing, as though the world had shrunk down to just this kitchen, just this moment. The kitchen remained as the heart of the home, and your heart was here, holding you in his arms, eyes boring into yours with an immeasurable amount of love for you. His thumb brushed across your knuckles as his lips curved into a quiet, contented smile.

From the living room, a faint rustle sounded as Emma and Lisa talked their quiet laughter a reminder of the family still tucked away nearby. The twinkling Christmas lights cast a soft glow over the house, and in the stillness, everything felt whole.

Ben leaned in again, pressing another kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. “Merry Christmas,” he said once more, as though savouring the words.

“Merry Christmas,” you echoed, the words wrapping around you both like a blanket. Together, you stood there a moment longer, letting the night settle into your hearts before finally, hand in hand, you turned off the last of the lights and let the warmth of the day carry you both forward.

---

hm. what a weird way to end...right?...

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon III - Slip Away.

Summary:

Aegon makes a sinister threat, and Vaelys makes a choice.

Warning(s): Angst, Threats, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex (F-Recieving), P in V, Escape Attempt, Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 4149

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated

Vaelys breathed in the fresh air as she strolled through the gardens of the Red Keep, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin after being confined to her chambers.

The gardens were alive with the vibrant colours of blooming flowers, their sweet fragrance filling the air and lifting her spirits.

Aemond followed behind Vaelys as she meandered through the gardens. His gaze lingering on her form, admiring the way the sunlight danced in her silver hair and the gentle sway of her dress with each step she took.

He matched her pace, content to walk a few steps behind her, allowing her to lead the way through the path of greenery. Though he could have easily walked beside her, he found a quiet pleasure in watching her explore the gardens at her own pace.

Every so often, Vaelys would pause to admire a particularly beautiful flower or to reach out and touch the leaves of a nearby tree. Aemond would stop as well, his attention fully on her as she immersed herself in the natural beauty surrounding them. He couldn't help but smile as he watched the genuine joy that lit up her face, knowing that this simple moment brought her happiness.

As Aemond and Vaelys continued their leisurely stroll through the gardens, they were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Helaena.

"Vaelys, would you like to come and search for spiders with me? I've heard there are some fascinating specimens hiding among the bushes” exclaimed Helaena, her voice laced with a hint of eagerness.

Vaelys recoiled slightly, a shiver running down her spine at the mere mention of spiders.

"Oh, Helaena-I-I'll come with you” replied Vaelys, her voice hesitant. "But I think I'll be content to observe from a safe distance."

Helaena nodded, her smile widening. "Of course, Vaelys. Your company is all I need."

As they ventured deeper into the garden, Helaena's excitement was evident. Her eyes eagerly scanning the foliage for any signs of their arachnid quarry. Vaelys followed close behind, her gaze darting nervously from one shadowy corner to the next.

Just as they reached a particularly dense cluster of bushes, a young squire came running up to them, his face flushed with urgency.

"Prince Aemond," he gasped, "The King demands your presence at a council meeting immediately."

Aemond's brow furrowed in concern as he turned to the squire, his thoughts already drifting to the matters that required his attention.

“It’s ok brother-I shall keep an eye on Vaelys,” said Helaena.

“But-“ replied Aemond.

“I’m more than capable of keeping my good sister company. If it makes you feel any better Ser Charles is standing watch” replied Helaena.

Reluctantly, Aemond nodded, knowing he had little choice but to trust in Helaena's assurances. With a final lingering look at Vaelys, he turned and hurried off towards the castle, his mind already consumed with the matters that awaited him.

“A dragon across the sea, a bronze heart waiting to be free,” said Helaena.

“What does that mean?” asked Vaelys.

“You’ll find out” replied Helaena.

“When?”

“After the butterfly is born” said Helaena smiling.

"My King," said Otto tentatively, "The Velaryon fleet has effectively strangled our trade routes, and they've cut off all naval access to and from Blackwater Bay. Our coffers are dwindling by the day, and our allies grow restless".

"Restless?! They dare threaten the stability of the realm. This blockade is an act of treason!" snarled Aegon slamming his fist on the table.

"Your Grace, we must tread carefully. The Velaryon’s are a powerful house-“ said Grand Maester Orwyle, his voice a calm contrast to the King's fury.

“Who support my whore of a sister” snapped Aegon.

“Acting rashly could lead to further escalation” warned Otto.

"Escalation?!" Aegon rose from his seat, his violet eyes flashing with fury. "They seek to undermine my rule, to force me to relinquish the crown to my sister! They will learn that the blood of the dragon does not yield so easily."

"Your Grace, if I may, we could attempt to negotiate with House Velaryon. Find a peaceful resolution, offer concessions—" said Maester Orwyle.

"Concessions?!" Aegon's voice thundered through the chamber. "I will not negotiate with traitors! We will crush this blockade by force if necessary!"

“Your Grace we could-“ muttered Jasper Wylde.

"Enough!" Aegon's voice thundered through the room, cutting through the whispered deliberations like a sword through flesh. "We have wasted too much time entertaining futile suggestions. It is clear what must be done."

The council fell silent, all eyes turning to the king, his figure towering over the seated lords and advisors.

"We have dragons, my brother has Vhagar" Aegon declared, his voice low and dangerous. "And it is time we remind House Velaryon and all who dare challenge the Iron Throne of the power that resides within these walls."

A hushed murmur of apprehension spread through the room, at the mention of the dragons.

"Your Grace, the use of dragons in such a manner-it could have dire consequences. We cannot unleash such devastation lightly." warned Otto.

Aegon fixed his steely gaze on his Hand, his violet eyes ablaze with determination. "The Velaryon’s have forced our hand. They seek to starve us into submission, to bend the knee to my sister. But they underestimate the strength of House Targaryen, the strength of our dragons."

"Your Grace, we must consider the repercussions of such actions. House Velaryon may have set the blockade, but they are not alone in their allegiance to Princess Rhaenyra. She too commands dragons, not to mention Daemon has experience with battle”.

Aegon's expression darkened at the reminder, his jaw clenched with barely contained fury. "Let her bring her dragons," he retorted sharply. "We will meet them with fire and blood."

Your Grace, if you engage in battle with Princess Rhaenyra's dragons, it could lead to unimaginable devastation for both sides." warned Maester Orwyle.

"We must consider all possible outcomes, Your Grace. The sight of dragons locked in combat above the Blackwater Bay would strike fear into the hearts of our people. It could plunge the realm into chaos” said Tyland nodding in agreement; his gaze steady as he met the King's furious stare.

Aegon's fists clenched at his sides, for a long moment, the king stood in silence, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he relented, his voice weary yet resolute.

“Very well, of course there are other ways to force Rhaenyra’s hand” said Aegon as he looked over at Aemond.

“Your Grace?” asked Otto curiously.

“Vaelys-I want a child in her belly. Rhaenyra might think twice when we also have her grandchild as a hostage” snarled Aegon.

“These things take time Your Grace” replied Aemond, tying to keep his anger in check. The child that Aegon spoke so callously of would not just be Vaelys’ child but his too.

“Don’t fill me with falsehoods I know that you haven’t touched her since your wedding night” snarked Aegon.

“I will not force myself-“

“-You will do your duty brother and fuck your wife until she’s swollen with your child, or else I will take over and I won’t give two shits whether she wants it or not” demanded Aegon.

“Yes, Your Grace” muttered Aemond through gritted teeth.

“Good-now get out” snapped Aegon as he reached for a cup of wine.

Aemond bowed respectfully and then left the council chambers.

He stormed through the corridors of the Red Keep, not wanting to speak too anyone and he had barely closed the door to his own chambers before he punched the wall.

“FUCK!!” exclaimed Aemond as the pain quickly lanced through his hand.

Gods he was angry. He needed to get out of there before he did something stupid, like go back to the council chambers and beat the living shit out of his brother.

Ignoring the pain in his hand, Aemond quickly donned his riding leathers and went to Vhagar. A few hours away from it all is exactly what he needed.

As Vaelys and Helaena lingered in the serene ambiance of the garden, their peaceful interlude was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Ser Arryk.

"Princess Vaelys," he addressed her with a respectful nod, "The King has requested your presence in his chambers immediately."

Vaelys' heart skipped a beat at the unexpected summons, her mind racing with questions as to what could be so urgent. She exchanged a quick glance with Helaena, who offered her a reassuring smile, before turning her attention back to Ser Arryk.

“Where is Aemond?” asked Vaelys.

“Your husband has gone out with his dragon” replied Arryk.

"I guess we shouldn’t keep the King waiting then" replied Vaelys, her voice steady despite the flutter of apprehension in her chest.

With a nod of acknowledgement, Ser Arryk gestured for her to follow, and Vaelys fell into step beside him, her thoughts swirling with curiosity and concern. As they made their way back inside the castle, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her.

Vaelys approached the door to King Aegon's chambers with cautious steps, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The summons had come unexpectedly, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over her. As she reached out to grasp the ornate door handle, she took a deep breath to steady herself before gently pushing it open.

The room beyond was bathed in the warm glow of flickering torches, casting dancing shadows against the walls. Vaelys stepped inside, her senses alert as she scanned the room for any sign of the King.

Aegon was seated on a large chaise by the window, his expression unreadable as he regarded her with a steady gaze.

“Do you know why I’ve summoned you?”

“No, Your Grace” replied Vaelys.

“The Velaryon fleet has blocked the Gullet-preventing all travel and seaborn trade”.

“What’s that got to do with me?” asked Vaelys, watching cautiously as Aegon rose from his chaise and walked towards her.

She remembered standing at the painted table with her mother and her council as Lord Corlys had informed her of his success in the Step Stones.

His plan to seal the Gullet had come to fruition.

So her mother had decided to lay seige to Kings Landing to force the Greens to surrender.

“It seems we’ve underestimated your worth as a hostage, so maybe Rhaenyra needs reminding of what’s at stake” said Aegon smirking.

“How?” asked Vaelys.

“A babe” said Aegon.

“I-I’m not with child”.

“Not yet-but you soon will be-I’ve told my brother that he is too fuck you until you are with child. If not, then I will have you for myself and my brother will not stop me. I might even make him watch” said Aegon.

“Y-You wouldn’t” said Vaelys.

“I am the King-If I want you, I will have you-“ whispered Aegon as he reached forward and began toying with a strand of hair that had come loose from Vaelys’ braid.

“-Please, don’t do this” begged Vaelys.

“Why not?” asked Aegon cocking his head to the side.

“It is not proper” muttered Vaelys.

“Like I give a shit-“ snarked Aegon.

“It would be a dishonour”.

“To who-you? don’t make me laugh-you’re the daughter of a whore”

“I am the wife of your brother-“

“None of that matters-you are what I say you are” said Aegon.

“As are you” replied Vaelys.

Aegon paused for a moment, smirking as he looked her up and down.

“-Ser Arryk, escort my niece back to her chambers” said Aegon as he stepped away and sat down.

“Your Grace” muttered Arryk.

“A man who forces himself upon a woman is no man at all, and neither is the one who stands idle and allows such behaviour” said Vaelys as she stepped into the hallway.

“He is the King” replied Arryk.

“So that gives him the right to treat women as if they are nothing-you know what I don’t why I’m wasting my breath, you’ve made it perfectly clear where your loyalties lie”.

“Princess-“

“Not if-but when my mother takes back the Iron Throne, you will die for your treachery” snapped Vaelys.

Arryk remained silent after that, his head hung low as he escorted her to her chambers.

It was almost dusk when he returned to the Red Keep, sometimes his old girl could be difficult to rouse but today she’d been more than ready to take to the sky.

In the weeks since their wedding, Aemond and Vaelys had developed some form of friendship, they dined together most nights, spent time in the gardens and spoke often of historical facts or whatever they’d done during the day.

As he arrived in his chambers he was greeted by a hot bath.

“I figured you’d want to bathe; the air seemed a little cool today” said Vaelys.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he began pulling of his riding leathers.

“I’ll go into the lounge-“

“No. Stay. There’s something I need to tell you” said Aemond.

 “Ok” replied Vaelys looking away until Aemond stepped into the bath and lowered himself into the hot water.

Aemond leaned against the edge of the bath and closed his eye. The hot water soothing his aching muscles. He almost forgot Vaelys was there until she cleared her throat.

“You said you had something to tell me”.

 “I’ve spent the last few hours practising this conversation and there’s no easy way to say this but-“

“For the love of all that is holy, just spit it out will you” snapped Vaelys.

“The King wants me to put a child in you” mumbled Aemond.

“I know-“ replied Vaelys.

“Y-You do?”

“Aegon summoned me to his chambers earlier, he said that he wants you to get me with child-if you don’t then he will have me for himself and he would make you watch“ muttered Vaelys.

“Did he touch you?” asked Aemond.

“No-he just threatened too” muttered Vaelys.

“I will not let him touch you. I give you my word” Aemond.

“He is your King. You can’t disobey him”  said Vaelys.

“I’ll think of something”  replied Aemond.

“You won’t always be here to protect me Aemond”.

“Vaelys-“ whispered Aemond as he began to look for a towel.

“Here, I placed it near the fire so it would be warm for you” said Vaelys as she handed him a warm towel.

“Who taught you that?” asked Aemond.

“My mother. Sometimes we’d go on family dragon rides and sometimes the skies around Dragonstone would be a little chilly, so she would always set towels in front of the fire to warm us up after we’d washed away the smell of dragon” said Vaelys sadly her heart clenching at the thought of Archonei.

“Sounds-nice” muttered Aemond.

Vaelys nodded slightly and then turned around to give Aemond some privacy as he dried himself and pulled on a pair of loose breeches.

“You can turn around now” said Aemond as he sat on the bed.

After a few moments of awkward silence Vaelys begins undressing.

“What are you doing?” asked Aemond.

“My duty” replied Vaelys.

“V-Vaelys. Wait” urged Aemond.

“You may have killed Archonei and brought me here, but I would rather be with you and carry your child. Than have your brothers child after he forces himself on me” exclaimed Vaelys.

“But-” muttered Aemond.

“This is MY choice and I choose you valzȳrys” said Vaelys as she began fiddling with the laces on her shift (husband).

“-ābrazȳrys” rasped Aemond (Wife).

“Let us pretend there is no war-that the house of the dragon is united, let this be for us. Now there’s no one watching” said Vaelys as she untied her shift and pulled it from her body.

“A-Are you sure?” asked Aemond.

“Your seriously asking me that as I stand in front of you as naked as my name day”.

“Just making sure” replied Aemond as he reached out and took Vaelys’ hand guiding her to the bed.

“Now, show me what it feels like to enjoy the touch of my husband”.

Vaelys had lost most of her senses the moment Aemond had pressed her onto the bed and knelt down between her open legs.

When he said he wanted to kiss her there, she never imagined this.

Vaelys’ eyes rolled into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Vaelys bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Ivestragī issa rȳbagon ao” growls Aemond (Let me hear you).

 “A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Vaelys.

Aemond pressed two fingers inside Vaelys, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.

Vaelys arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Vaelys’ body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Vaelys blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself my little dragon” murmured Aemond.

“I-I’ve never-” mumbled Vaelys.

 “Was that your first peak?” asked Aemond.

 Vaelys blushed and nodded. Aemond smiled as he leaned forward and slowly ran his tongue along Vaelys’ bottom lip.

Vaelys jumped when she felt Aemond’s cock against her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow” whispered Aemond as he reached down and took hold of his hard cock rubbing it along Vaelys’ wet folds.

“Ok. I’m ready” replied Vaelys, her heart pounding. Aemond thrusts his hips forward and the entire hard length of him is buried inside Vaelys.

“Oh” gasped Vaelys. She had expected to feel pain, but this was something else entirely.

Aemond rolls his hips gently at first, allowing Vaelys the time to adjust to the feeling of his cock moving back and forth inside her, but when his wife begins issuing quiet yet insistent pleas of 'harder and faster' Aemond loses it and begins fucking Vaelys into the mattress.

Their hips pound together as Aemond thrusts hard and fast, his movements brutal and precise.

“Fuck” moans Aemond his cock throbbing with need.

“A-Aemond”

“What is it you desire, Princess?” asked Aemond, his thrusts becoming somewhat stuttered and messy, his singular eye screwed shut, he ready to burst at any moment. His silver hair stuck to his forehead, from the exertion of fucking his wife.

“You-Aemond-” gasped Vaelys. Aemond grinned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, watching her body jerk with each movement of his hips.

He could feel her cunny fluttering around him, so he reached down to apply pressure to her pearl.

Vaelys let out a chocked moan as she felt is finger swirling around her, she buried one hand into his long silver hair and the other grasped his arm so tight her knuckles had turned white.

Aemond pulls back slightly to watch with excitement as his wife peaks again around his length.

With a choked, staggered moan of his own, Aemond grips her so tightly, she would surely bruise, as he spills himself inside her hot, wet cunny. Filling her with rope after rope of his seed, thrusting shallowly to ensure it was as deep inside her as possible.

Aemond collapsed on top of Vaelys, his face buried in her neck.

After he’d managed to catch his breath, Aemond slowly pulled his softened cock from his wife and laid down next to her, without thinking he enveloped her in his arms.

Vaelys felt warm and utterly exhausted. She shifted to look up at her husband, watching as his eye opened to look down at her.

“A-Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I’m ok” whispered Vaelys.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he leaned closer and pressed his mouth to hers.

“Thank you”

“For what?” asked Aemond.

“The wedding night, you were kind to me” uttered Vaelys.

“I am your husband it’s-“ stuttered Aemond as Vaelys leaned forward and seized his mouth in a kiss, her tongue slowly moving against his.

“Aemond” breathed Vaelys her fingers moving through the sparse hairs that graced his chest.

“Give me a few minutes ñuha dōna and I’ll be ready to have you again” (My sweet)

Aemond had a ravenous appetite that night, he kissed, licked, and fucked her well into the hours of the night.

Never fully satisfied until he’d filled her with his seed another three times.

Aemond was absolutely insatiable, even the next morning he had reached for Vaelys and had her again.

He muttered nonsensically as he thrust his hard cock into her, begging, and muttering filthy things in high Valyrian.

Afterwards, Aemond had wrapped his arms around Vaelys and held her close.

At some point Vaelys had managed to fall back to sleep, and she eventually awoke some hours later to find Aemond sitting at the table, eating his dinner.

“You should have woke me” muttered Vaelys as she kissed Aemond on the cheek.

“I didn’t want to disturb you” replied Aemond.

“I’m surprised Ser Criston hasn’t come banging on the door, as I assume you’ve missed your morning training session”.

“Missing one training session won’t hurt, besides I had other things to occupy my time” quipped Aemond.

“Glad to hear it” said Vaelys.

“Although I will be stuck in council meetings all day-“ muttered Aemond.

“I-I think I’ll stay in our chambers today-Helaena was going on about millipedes yesterday and I’d rather not be in the company of such-creatures” said Vaelys shuddering.

“Are you afraid of bugs?” asked Aemond trying to stifle a smile.

“T-They have their place in the world-just not anywhere near me” said Vaelys.

“Well, it’s a good job that I had some new books brought from the library-so you may read to your hearts content” replied Aemond.

“Thank you” replied Vaelys as she took a sip of water.

True to his word, Aemond was gone all day.

But Vaelys contented herself with sitting on the balcony and reading through the books that Aemond had brought.

As the sun began to set, the maids had delivered supper and Aemond still hadn’t returned.

Vaelys was about to ask the guard on duty if he knew when Aemond would be back when the door to her chambers opened, and Ser Arryk walked in.

“If your King has the gall to summon me again-tell him to go fuck himself” snapped Vaelys.

“I swore to ward the Queen, with all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I will guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honour”.

“Ser Erryk?” questioned Vaelys.

The memory of the day her mother had been crowned by her father, the crown of Viserys reaching Dragonstone by the hand of Ser Erryk.

"Your father sent me. We must leave now” said Erryk gesturing for her to follow.

“But-Aemond-” said Vaelys.

“This is your only chance Princess-Come we must go” said Erryk.

“The guard outside-”

“As far as anyone knows I’m Arryk and I’m escorting you to the Tower of the Hand” said Erryk.

"I could write Aemond a note" said Vaelys, looking around the chambers for ink and parchment.

"Princess-we must go" urged Erryk.

There was a part of Vaelys that didn’t want to leave Aemond-but she longed for her mother’s embrace, she missed her father and his lessons with the blade, she wished to hear the laughter of her brothers and sisters again, and she knew that she would never get another chance at this again, so after taking a deep breath Vaelys followed Erryk.

Ser Erryk's heart raced as he led Princess Vaelys through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep. His armour clinked softly with each step, the weight of his mission pressing upon him like an invisible burden.

At the behest of her father, Daemon, he was to help Vaelys escape the clutches of her forced marriage to Aemond Targaryen.

The princess moved swiftly, her eyes wide with fear yet filled with determination. Erryk admired her bravery, even in the face of such danger. They reached the gate, their only barrier to freedom looming ahead.

With a silent prayer to the Seven, Erryk pushed open the heavy door, ready to usher Vaelys into the night and back to the safety of Dragonstone.

But their hopes were shattered as the gate swung open, revealing Aemond standing before them, his features twisted in a mix of fury and anguish.

Erryk's hand instinctively went to his sword, but before he could draw it, Aemond was upon him.

"Aemond, no" pleaded Vaelys, her voice trembling with desperation. But Aemond paid her no heed as he engaged Erryk in combat.

Steel clashed against steel, echoing through the courtyard as Erryk and Aemond fought with all their might.

Despite his skill, Erryk found himself outmatched by the rage-fueled attacks of the Targaryen prince.

With a final, brutal strike, Aemond delivered a fatal blow, and Erryk fell to the ground, his lifeblood staining the stone beneath him.

Vaelys screamed in horror as she rushed to Erryk's side, but Aemond seized her roughly, tearing her away from the fallen knight.

"No, Aemond, please," cried Vaelys, tears streaming down her face.

But Aemond's grip only tightened as he dragged her back towards the Red Keep.

[magicvicky1]

It’s yapping time because I can’t stop thinking about Magica’s different lairs in Dt17 and how goofy they are…

Like, starting with the one in the swamp: is not exactly uncommon for the main villains of the show to have themselves/their aesthetic incorporated on their workplace; I’m pretty sure Lunaris’s base was literally shaped like his dumb face and Glomgold Industries’s building is just Flinty showing off how scottish he wants to be is. But there’s NO way that Magica, being powerless for a season and a half, managed to build her house and shape her face onto a tree of that size on her own. So the only explanation I can think of is that while living as an average duck and getting a job, she went to an architect and requested them to design a plan for a house build onto an specific tree located in the middle of a dark, scary swamp, and not only that, but the exterior of it had to be shaped like her face.

I’m imagining the confused architect asking “Don’t you prefer a normal looking house?…In a normal neighborhood?” only for her to reply “Of course not! A house like this is the only way in which whoever decides to approach, will know that they’re stepping on the lair of the most MENACING AND POWERFUL SORCERESS ALIVE!”…And since that house ended up being constructed, she’s must have payed very well for it XD

Then, there’s the castle in which Magica and Poe lived and is not hard to figure out how it was made. If they had an entire village enslaved that provided them food and treasures, then they would have no problem with forcing them to build them a proper place so they could rule over more comfortably (I do have my own headcanon in which the castle was owned by an actual king and/or queen who was later defeated by the De Spell twins when they took over, but I won’t be considering it for the sake of simplicity). It’s not that deep…Still, you can’t tell me that an argument like the one above also didn’t happen if Poe was around xD Magica probably had to explain how important it was for their castle to look as scary and imponent as possible, and after a while of insisting, he just went “…*sigh* Alright, then. We’ll have your face sculpted into the entrance.”

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (42)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none

A/N NOT BETA. I am back to writing! I am crying. You have no idea how terrible this past two weeks was for me. I felt so out of place not writing but for some reason I couldn't find it in me to get back to it. I had lost literally all passion for it. So much happened that really didn't put me in the right state of mind. But I got back to it and found my passion again! So here is the long awaited Hobi chapter! I'm so excited to hear your thoughts on this one.

Hoseok lived in the same region your grandparents had. It was nice to take in the beautiful sights you were so familiar with. However, watching as creatures and different kinds of magical beasts mingle about. The flora and fauna were much different to your own home–it seemed like everything flourished a lot more. 

Taehyung had told you about how witches and faeries lived out in nature because it made them feel connected. As you held onto his hand, you smiled softly as his fingers weaved between the bushes and trees that covered the path they were taking. Your eyes widened as the foliage seemed to bloom and follow along with his hands. 

“Hoseok!” Someone shouted, moving along the path as they came upon a large cottage. 

You smiled to yourself, finally seeing the kind of house you had assumed this world would have. However, it was still large. You were sure the inside looked spectacular. 

You let go of Hoseok’s hand, allowing him to embrace his mother and another woman who was crying. 

“Oh, my baby boy!” His mother smiled, looking over his shoulder to find you. “This must be your mate.” She exclaimed walking over to you to give you a hug. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

She turned around to her son, smiling as he was being bullied by the other woman. She had him in a chokehold, laughing when he tried to pull at her with the grass that was growing exponentially. 

“I came home when mom called to tell us that you finally came back.” She smiled, patting Hoseok on the back. 

“All thanks to (Y/N).” Hobi smiled, reaching out for your hand. 

“We owe you so much.” Hoseok’s mother smiled softly, dropping her hand onto your shoulder. 

“It was nothing.” You smiled bashfully. 

“Nonsense!” Hoseok’s sister exclaimed. “Please, allow me to give you something in return.” She reached out to hold your hands. “Not only did you bring my brother back but you also brought his coven home. I'm sure their families would give you something as well.” She told you softly. 

“I don't know—” You tried to tell her it was alright but she just gave you a smile. 

“Let me give you a reading.” She stopped you.

“A reading?” Your eyebrows furrowed, looking over at Hobi. 

“Jiwoo is a master at reading people.” He explained. “Witches clairsenses are a lot stronger than anyone else. We can predict futures, see the dead, see what haunts you. It's part of our abilities.” He told you. 

You grew interested, being reminded about how Taehyung had explained his abilities to you. He did tell you that you could find out what Hobi was capable of if you asked him. You assumed readings were part of the things witches could do that faeries couldn’t. 

“Taehyung can't do that then?” You questioned. 

“No.” Hobi answered. “Telepathy and mental manipulation is our thing. He can't do any of that.”

“Fairies have energy manipulation which is a very powerful thing.” Jiwoo told you. “However we have healing and can control the elements.”

You looked down to the grass, seeing that it had gone back to normal now that the siblings weren’t play fighting. You also remembered how the leaves and the trees followed after Hobi’s fingers as he passed them. You wondered what it was like to watch him play with fire or water. 

“That's so cool.” You breathed out. 

“Come.” Jiwoo quickly brought you into their home, the decor modernized as you guessed. “Sit!” She pushed you to sit at the dining table, moving a chair in front of you and taking your hands. “I already saw a lot the moment you walked in.”

You could feel something tingle at your fingertips, making you tilt your head. You suddenly felt something hovering over your shoulder. Hobi and his mother were standing behind Jiwoo, watching with curiosity. You wanted to turn your head and see what it was but Jiwoo stopped you before you could. 

“Oh.” You watched as Jiwoo’s eyebrows rose, making you glance up at Hobi. 

“I think the first thing I should say—you have a past with our world.” Jiwoo turned up to you. “Don't you?” She asked. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, thinking about your grandfather. “Apparently I do.”

Jiwoo nodded her head, smiling over your shoulder. “You have a protector too. They've been there since you were a little girl. Butterflies are what I see around you.” She explained, running her fingers along your palms just to get a sense of your energy. 

“Nabi.” Hobi spoke up. “It was a name you kept saying but didn't know where it came from.” 

“They're someone very important in your story. Both the past and this one.” Jiwoo nodded to herself, pausing as though she was listening to someone. “I'm positive they were the ones who led you to my brother and his coven.”

“You really think that?” You asked, eyes wide. 

“Of course.” Jiwoo hummed. 

You flinched just for a moment, hearing a childish giggle from behind you. Hobi and his family must have heard because they all looked over you, smiling softly. You turned around, frowning when you couldn’t find anything. It was clear that the Jung family could see things that you were not. 

“Now something I find extremely fascinating is the number 5.” You quickly furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what that would mean. 

“It keeps turning up–four and then two. They are different animals–different creatures.” This only served to make you more confused. If it was about the boys there was seven of them, not five. It made you worry, thinking something was going to happen. 

“I can't really tell what they are going to be but I know they have to do with the boys.” Jiwoo turned around, quickly pulling her brother to the table. “Hobi, come here.” She told him, making him place his hand over your own. 

“Ah!” Jiwoo gasped out, hands flying away from the two of you as though she had been burned. “I found it! Babies!” She jumped up, her face having elation as she turned to her mother.

“Babies?” You asked, still confused. You looked up at Hobi, watching as he seemed to have a frown on his face and looked beyond confused. 

Hobi was nowhere near as powerful when it came to his clairsense like his sister was. The most he knew was his mental abilities so watching how his sister made him take your hand brought things out of him. He saw the animals that seemed to scurry around. They were small things, indicating something childish and small. It was clear that Jiwoo knew exactly what they all meant by her screeching. 

“Eomma!” Jiwoo shouted. “Five grandbabies!”

“Five?” You whispered, wide eyed.

“Grandbabies?” Hoseok repeated. 

Hobi’s mother and sister took a moment to gush and talk about it–claiming that Hobi was going to be one of the babies' fathers. However you just kind of sat there with a wide eyed expression trying to go through the motions. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want children, it had more to do with the question Taehyung had asked you when you had visited his family. If you were to have their kids did that mean you were going to stay with them? Was that your answer without you even reaching it on your own?

Later that night, Hobi had taken you to his room–showing off everything he could. You smiled softly when he showed you his elemental manipulation. He created ice sculptures for you, made the wind blow through your hair, and had a flicker of fire crackling at his palms. It served to entertain you for a while, keeping your mind off what had happened with his mother. 

But after she came to bid you both a goodnight, you were left awestruck once more at the happy expression the woman had on her face. You couldn’t know how she must have felt–spending ten years without her son only to come back and hear that he had finally found his forever and was going to make a family of his own. 

It must have been something that one would think hard on–especially because the one who was meant to be the mate to seven men was human and not from their world. 

“Five children.” You brought up, laying on Hobi’s chest. “Oh god.” You chuckled quietly. 

“Wow, wow, wow.” Hoseok sat up, bringing you along with him so he could look at you properly. “You're okay. You're fine.” He tried to tell you. “Let's not think about it at the moment, yeah?” He said softly. 

“How can I not?” You sighed. “Jiwoo told yoru mom it was going to be her grandchildren.” You smiled lightly, memorizing Hobi’s face. “Does that mean I'm going to have a family with you?” You whispered to him.

“Not everything is set in stone.” Hobi’s shoulders dropped thinking it wasn’t something you wanted. “You can always change your future.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling a hand up to his cheek. “What if I don't want to?” You whispered.

His eyes went wide, looking at you incredulously. “You want—to start a family with me? With us?” He gasped, lip trembling as he thought about it. 

“I don't think we're there yet but, staying with you all has been on my mind.” You laughed lightly.

“Who told you?” Hobi pouted, knowing it had been one of the boys who brought it up to you. 

“Taehyung.” You giggled. 

“Such a boy.” He rolled his eyes. 

Taking a glance over your face, he smiled softly, moving to rub a thumb across your cheek. “Hey, I love you with everything in me. You have done so much for all of us that it's hard not to love you.” 

“But we want you to know that even if we do love you, it's not our choice to make.” He added softly.

“I love you, Hoseok. I love you all so much I don't think I'd want to be away from you.” You leaned forward, breathing against his lips. 

“We have to save everyone first. And then we can talk about our coven.” Hoseok told you. 

He leaned down capturing your lips in a kiss. 

And so you smiled at him, knowing exactly what you wanted to do now that you had heard it from them all. You weren’t going to leave them. It would hurt too much. So you knew that deep down this was your story alongside them.

Series Masterlist

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