#seeking comfort in these bittersweet memories | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

midzandrist · 19 days ago

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bitter sweet ─── kim minji.

a/n: of any of you have seen this post before, i want to clarify that it is mine, i just re-uploaded it because the previous one had some spelling errors!!

synopsis: while digging through your childhood closet at your mother’s house, you stumble upon a treasure trove of bittersweet mementos from your past relationship with your ex-girlfriend, compelling you to confront the choices you've made and the love that might still linger in your heart.

warnings: angst, fluff sometimes.

word count: 7.2k

you are driving down a familiar road, the one that leads to your mother’s house, a route steeped in memories. it's a journey you've made countless times, but today holds a different purpose. it’s been years since you moved out into an apartment of your own, and your childhood room has remained almost untouched, like a time capsule. nostalgia tugs at your heartstrings as you contemplate the old toys, clothes, and relics of your youth that await you. today, you plan to clean, to sort, and perhaps to rediscover parts of yourself you thought long buried.

as you pull into the driveway, the house comes into view, and the sight invites a flood of emotions. there are the shutters painted a cheerful yellow and the garden neatly trimmed by your mother’s diligent hands. you can almost hear the laughter and shouts echoing through the years, memories of barbecues and holiday celebrations flickering in your mind.

you lift your hand to knock on the door, but as it swings open, you are greeted with warmth and familiarity. your mother, clad in an apron dusted with flour, beams at you. “look who’s here! welcome home, darling!” she exclaims, ushering you inside as the rich aroma of baked goods fills the air.

“smells amazing! what are you baking?” you ask, your heart warming at the sight of her.

“just some cookies,” she replies, her eyes sparkling. “i’ll make you a cup of coffee while you get settled. go ahead and get comfortable!”

you watch her bustle back to the kitchen, momentarily caught up in the joy of being in this nurturing space. as you climb the familiar stairs, the wooden steps squeak softly beneath your feet, a sound that brings back a flurry of childhood memories—playing hide-and-seek, running up with your friends, and the occasional scolding for making too much noise.

the hallway is adorned with family photos: snapshots of birthday parties, holidays, and milestones, each one whispering tales of love and laughter. you pause to admire a picture where you are grinning widely, cupcake frosting on your nose, a reminder of simpler times.

when you reach your room, you hesitate at the door. a small part of you wants to turn back, to avoid the flood of emotions waiting inside. but curiosity compels you to open the door. as you step in, a smile dances across your face, and a twinge of embarrassment washes over you. everything feels so achingly familiar.

your bed remains adorned with the same princess sheets you've cherished your whole life—yes, you still used them as a teenager because they were so comfortable! the walls, painted your favorite pastel, have not changed, and neither have the shelves packed with stuffed animals, each one a gift from family, friends, or even random encounters. they are memories stitched in soft fabric, guardians of your childhood.

you wander over to the closet, the sliding doors gliding open with ease. it’s a treasure chest of old clothes, some you’ve outgrown, while others are relics of styles you once adored but have since outgrown. you begin sorting through the hangers, deciding which clothes to donate and which might find a new life with your little cousins.

among the chaos of shirts and old dance costumes, one box catches your eye. it stands out against the bright colors of your clothes, wrapped in delicate white paper covered in charming little hearts. curiosity piqued, you pull the box from the clutter, holding it in your lap as you sit on the edge of your bed.

taking a deep breath, you reach for your trusty box cutter, carefully slicing the tape without tearing the paper. what you find inside takes your breath away.

it’s the box filled with memories from your relationship with minji, your ex-girlfriend. you hadn’t thought about those days in a while, but opening this box sends you spiraling into a whirlwind of emotions. how could you forget the delicate bracelet she made you, each bead representing a moment shared between the two of you? next to it lies a crumpled concert ticket—her favorite band, the one you both danced and sang along to, lost in the electric atmosphere, her voice mixing with the music as you both laughed and swayed.

your heart quickens as you delve deeper, pulling out notes she had written late into the night, filled with confessions and dreams you once shared under quiet stars. but what hits hardest are the photographs that make you remember old memories—snaps of a summer spent together, ones that showcase radiant smiles and sun-kissed skin. the carefree days roaming the park, fingers intertwined, the laughter, feeling invincible. as you sift through these memories, the pain of their absence washes over you, flooding your heart. that last summer together feels like an eternity ago, yet its echo reverberates in the chambers of your chest.

you don't know why you do it, but you decide to investigate the things that are now memories of those moments.

i. plane tickets.

you sit on minji's bed, your phone in hand, scrolling through the endless abyss of social media. a faint glow emanates from the computer screen perched on her desk, illuminating the small space and painting shadows across the walls. it's late, the hours slipping by like grains of sand. the air is thick with the quiet murmur of night, and the only sound is the gentle whir of the fan above.

minji is sitting in her chair, the light casting a soft halo around her, making her look absolutely luminous. the glow from the screen reflects in her glasses, which are perched neatly on her nose, accentuating the delicate features of her face. it's a sight that makes your heart race and dulls your wits all at once. she pulls her attention away from the screen to look at you, a curious expression crossing her face.

"where do you think we should go on vacation this summer?" she asks, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile — the kind that always makes your insides flip.

you momentarily lose your train of thought, caught off guard by the question. the truth is, you hadn’t considered it much. your head is still buzzing from the concert you both went to last week and the dread of final exams looming ahead. it's so easy to get caught in the web of everyday stress that thoughts of a getaway seem like an indulgent daydream. still, you don’t want her to see you dismissing it so carelessly.

you glance back at your phone and mutter something vague, “i don’t know, maybe somewhere nice?” your attention drifts back to the glowing screen in your palm, half-expecting her to let it slide. but minji is not one to pass up on an opportunity for a genuine conversation, particularly one involving the two of you. you feel her eyes drilling into you, silently trying to uncover your reluctance.

she pivots in her chair, so all you can see are her soft brown eyes framed by those stylish frames. you can almost hear the gears in her mind working, seeking answers. god, she looks breathtaking like this, her shiny black hair piled up in a messy bun, loose strands accentuating her elegant silhouette. there’s something enchanting about the way she engages with you, as if every discussion holds the weight of the universe.

she breaks the silence first, “oh, come on, babe! there must be something on your mind.” you fidget under her gaze. how can she be so effortlessly captivating? admitting it to her is like cracking open a treasure chest flooded with your deepest affections and fears.

eventually, you take a deep breath and decide to confide in her. “okay, fine. i’ve been thinking about hawaii,” you confess, your cheeks warming slightly as you say it.

her reaction is instantaneous. that soft giggle escapes her lips, and your heart skips a beat. she tilts her head, arching an eyebrow. her look is playful, teasing, as if she knows exactly the power she has over you. “hawaii? really? is it because of the movies and stuff? you’re such a cliché!” she quips, but there's no malice in her tone, only mischief.

a flush creeps onto your cheeks. it’s true; the romanticized idea of hawaii, with its pristine beaches and lush greenery, has been at the back of your mind. but admitting that feels like exposing a part of yourself that’s vulnerable to her judgment. “okay, maybe a little,” you admit sheepishly, your heart thrumming at the thought of escaping to an island paradise with her. “look, don’t judge me. i know it sounds cliché, but it’s not just about the movies. i’ve been curious about it for so long. the beaches, the culture, the sunsets… and experiencing all of that with you? i really would love to explore it with you. i think it would be amazing.”

for a moment, her gaze softens, warmth enveloping you. “it would be amazing,” she echoes, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten with hope. you can almost imagine it: the two of you walking hand-in-hand along the sandy shores, the turquoise waves lapping at your feet, laughter bubbling between you. “hawaii it is then!”

the computer glows faintly, illuminating her features in a soft, ethereal light. her glasses reflect both the screen’s radiance and the glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. you find yourself captivated, caught between admiration and uncertainty, swept up in the delicate way her black hair is haphazardly arranged and the faint smudge of her eyeliner that makes her look almost like an art piece—imperfectly perfect.

before your brain can fully catch up with the spontaneous decision, minji’s fingers are dancing over the keyboard, the rhythmic click-clacking filling the room. you watch her with rapt attention, caught in the elegance of her movements, mesmerized by the ease with which she navigates the virtual landscape.

minutes pass as she navigates the various options—flights, hotels, excursions—her enthusiasm infectious. you begin to imagine the golden sand beneath your feet, the sound of waves lapping gently against the shore, and the way the sun will warm your skin while you sip ice-cold coconut water.

with a few clicks, minji navigates through pages, her focus unwavering. you lean slightly closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her enthusiasm. when she finds the flights, she glances at you with excitement sparkling in her eyes. “look! this one is perfect and not too expensive," she exclaims, her voice ringing with joy.

your heart swells at the thought of minji, so invested and excited about the trip. you nod, surrendering to the flow of her excitement as she proceeds to enter her payment details, a confident smile plastered across her face. the anticipation is palpable, wrapping around both of you.

as the computer processes the payment, you feel a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside you. the thought of being in hawaii together feels like a promise of freedom—a chance to break free from routine and simply be with each other, free from obligations.

a moment passes, and then the screen lights up again, confirming your reservation. minji squeals, throwing her hands up in victory, and you can’t help but laugh along with her. “we did it! we’re going to hawaii!” there’s a jubilant glimmer in her eyes that makes your heart swell.

the reality of the adventure dawns on you like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a stormy sky. a smile spreads across your face, a blend of shock and joy. “wait, you really did? just like that?”

she turns around to face you completely, her chair revolving with enthusiasm. “just like that! don’t you realize how easy it can be? all we have to do is show up!” her eyes sparkle as if hinting at adventures that await on shores far away.

a small gasp escapes your lips, excitement bubbling within you. “oh my god. it’s happening. we’re really going!” you leap off the bed, excitement propelling your movements as you wrap her in a tight embrace, the warmth of her body grounding you in the reality of this dream.

“thank you for convincing me,” you whisper, looking deep into her eyes, “for believing in the dream.”

she smirks, playfully nudging your shoulder. “oh, don’t thank me yet. just wait until we’re hiking up to diamond head or laying on the beach, and i’m making fun of your sunburned nose.”

ii. a polaroid on the plane.

the airplane cabin hummed softly, a mechanical lullaby that both soothed and unsettled you. as the plane taxied down the runway, the anticipation of flight churned in your stomach. this was your first time traveling by plane, and the unfamiliarity of it all made you feel small, almost like a child again. you leaned your head against the cushioned headrest, your heart thumping a little too loudly in your chest.

your gaze drifted to the window, but the sight of the ground receding and the horizon stretching far beyond made you feel dizzy. just then, you turned away from the window, seeking solace in the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, minji, sitting beside you. she was tapping away on her laptop, completely absorbed in whatever project had captured her attention. her presence was a comfort, and you wanted to reach out to her.

minji, with her long hair cascading over her shoulder, sensed your discomfort. she paused, her eyes darting toward you, filled with concern. “baby,” she said softly, closing her laptop and shifting her attention fully to you. "are you sure you're okay?”

you forced a nod, not trusting your voice to silence the tremors. your head is still resting against the cushioned headrest, surrendering to the moment, but your heart raced like the engines’ roar. it was all too new, too dizzying, and you felt vulnerable floating amidst the clouds.

“look at me,” she said gently, tilting her head to catch your eyes. “nothing bad is going to happen. we’re safe up here.”

you felt her take your hand, her fingers curling around it with a gentle firmness. the warmth of her touch seeped into your skin and chased away the chill of anxiety that had settled there. she began to massage your palm with her thumb, and though you still felt the tension in your chest, her soothing gestures offered a small reprieve.

��nothing bad is going to happen,” minji repeats to you again. her voice was calm, like a gentle stream, and it washed over your worries. “just close your eyes for a bit. you’ll feel better, i promise.”

her voice was soothing, wrapping around you like a safety net. “just breathe with me,” she instructed, and you followed along, inhaling deeply, then exhaling slowly.

with each breath, the tension in your body began to loosen, even as the plane lifted higher into the sky. you leaned into her side, comforted by her warmth.

with her encouragement, you slowly began to relax. the aircraft’s engines roared as it powered down the runway, and you squeezed her hand tighter, but instead of fear, you felt a burgeoning sense of trust in her presence.

as the plane lifted off the ground, a thrilling rush engulfed you, but with minji’s hand in yours, anxiety started to dissipate. you took a deep breath, the cool airline air filling your lungs, and then you let it out slowly.

“you should sleep,” minji murmured, and her voice felt like a warm blanket wrapping around you.

you hesitated, glancing out the window once more, the clouds beginning to roll beneath you, fluffy and white. it was beautiful, but the beauty felt distant, overshadowed by your anxiety. yet, with minji beside you, her calming energy made surrendering to sleep seem a little more possible.

a few minutes later, your eyelids grow heavy. the steady rhythm of her thumb against your palm lulled you further, your worries fading along with the world outside. you couldn’t help but let go.

you abandoned the tension, letting yourself drift off, lulled by the rhythmic hum of the airplane engines and the comforting presence of minji beside you. just before you slipped entirely into slumber, you heard her whisper, “sweet dreams.” a soft brush of her lips touched your cheek, leaving a lingering warmth—and unbeknownst to both of you, a bright red mark from her lipstick.

while you slept, minji couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, peaceful and vulnerable. she reached into her bag for her instant camera, knowing this moment was one worth capturing. clicking the shutter, she watched as the familiar white rectangle emerged from the front of the camera, the image gradually developing to reveal you nestled against the seat, her kiss on your cheek a bright reminder of her love.

minji chuckled softly to herself at how adorable you looked, the lipstick mark making you seem even more endearing. once the polaroid was fully developed, she held it up to admire the warmth of your expression, a pure moment of tenderness that she wanted to remember forever. in her heart, it was a badge of honor, a testament to her love, a symbol of comfort wrapped in a kiss.

minji leaned in, planting another kiss on your forehead before returning to her seat, the photo tucked safely in her pocket. she gives you one last look full of love and affection, then returns her attention to her laptop.

iii. the "lucky charm" coconut keychain.

the sun beats down on you as the two of you walk along the bustling streets of waikiki, a blend of tourists and locals enveloping you in a chaotic yet vibrant atmosphere. you squint at the horizon where the ocean sparkles, wishfully imagining the gentle waves and warm sand beneath your toes.

but here you are, walking with minji to rent a car that you doubt is even necessary.

renting a car seems unnecessary to you—especially in hawaii, where the beach isn’t far from your hotel, and enjoying the warm breeze as you stroll hand-in-hand feels more romantic than navigating through traffic. regardless, here you are, headed to the rental agency after yet another discussion about what constitutes an ideal beach day.

you can feel the heat of the pavement radiating through your sandals as you whine, “why do we even need a car, minji? we could just walk to the beach. it's only a few blocks away!”

with a laugh, she looks at you sideways, the glint in her eye promising mischief. “oh come on! i don’t plan on walking all day. if i have to deal with your annoying ass in this heat, i might regret it!” she pokes your side lightly, and a smile breaks through your complaining facade.

you can’t help but huff in response, a mix of warmth from her playful banter and annoyance at the heat radiating off the concrete beneath your feet. each step feels like it takes a monumental effort, and you can’t shake the thought that you could have been lounging on the beach already. “but it’s so hot,” you counter, trying to mask your fatigue behind a passive-aggressive pouting.

the two of you pause at the crosswalk, and you catch a glimpse of the rental agency sign barely visible amidst the swaying palms. as you wait for the light to change, your eyes narrow against the sun. you momentarily lose track of her as the heat hits you—a palpable wave that weighs heavy on your skin.

“maybe i’m just a little cranky,” you concede, squinting up at her. “but you know, this could have waited until after the beach.”

before you can elaborate on how you’d rather be frolicking in the waves than walking under the sun, minji suddenly spins towards you. she takes you by the wrist, her fingers warm against your skin.

“listen,” she says, lifting your spirits with her smile. “just trust me.” there’s a shining determination in her gaze, so you relent—almost rebelliously. and then she leans in, kissing you softly. the world narrows until it’s just the two of you, her lips pressing against yours melting all complaints away.

when she pulls back, her confession surprises you. “i’ve always wanted to take you to the beach. ever since i got my driver’s license, this moment was the first thing i thought of.”

your heart swells at her words, and you can’t help but smile back, feeling as if you had just won the lottery of love. minji’s enthusiasm, her pure joy, makes it impossible to stay irritable. the idea of her planning this little excursion—her first real drive as an independent woman—sends a thrill through you.

the thought of a romantic beach ride, the sun warming your backs, and the waves lapping at the shore, finally feels tangible. "you really had this planned?" you ask, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach. you watch her, marveling at the sincerity and excitement shining in her eyes.

“yeah,” she beams, and you can’t help but grin back at her as you watch the way her smile lights up the entire world around you.

as she fills out the paperwork and exchanges details with the rental agent, you stand nearby, casually leaning against the counter. you can’t help but admire her; she’s focused, glowing in the sunlight streaming through the office window, and you feel like a lovesick puppy.

your heart races; it’s as if the most picturesque sunset were unfolding right in front of you. you catch glimpses of her full concentration, the way her tongue peeks out slightly as she writes, and you can’t help but think how lucky you are.

she notices your lingering gaze, the smirk twitching at the corners of her lips. even while focused on the paperwork, she feels your eyes on her like an open book. the atmosphere around you buzzes with her quiet confidence, and you revel in it.

“you're ridiculous,” she says playfully, catching you staring. you burst into laughter, mocking your own pads of devotion with exaggerated gestures. yet, inside your chest, warmth pools, and you feel content as she finishes.

“got it!” she announces, her voice rising with triumph as she strides out of the office, her fingers wrapping around the sleek car keys like a trophy.

minji flashes a grin that infects your mood. “ready for a ride?” she teases, twirling the keys as you walk towards the car. you roll your eyes but can’t hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

inside the vehicle, she takes her place behind the wheel, and you settle into the passenger seat, adjusting your position as the sun spills through the window and warms your skin. the sunbeams highlight her features, the way the light dances off her hair, and for a moment, you’re completely overtaken by how fortunate you are to share this car—and this moment—with her.

there’s something undeniably attractive about her as she grips the steering wheel, her other hand resting on your thigh in a possessive, almost intimate manner. she steals glances, and those fleeting moments are enough to send your heart racing.

before you know it, the sound of tires crunching against gravel leads you to the beach’s entrance. minji turns to you, and with the sunlight painting her features, she looks breathtaking. there’s a hint of playful mischief in her smile as she turns off the ignition.

with determination, she removes her seatbelt and glances down to gather your beach gear—two bags filled with sunscreen, towels, and lunchtime snacks. but your attention is drawn to the keys, dangling from her fingers. they’ve got a ridiculous keychain in the shape of a hawaiian coconut drink, complete with a colorful umbrella, a miniature straw and a beautiful flower.

noticing your gaze, minji chuckles. “do you like it?” she asks, her mouth curving into another smile.

“it's cute,” you admit, laughing at how utterly charming she is.

she plucks the keychain from the keys and tosses it gently into your lap “here, just keep it. i don’t think they’ll mind if a little keyring goes missing.”

you look down at the keychain, surprised by the unexpected gift. “i can’t take this,” you protest, but she waves it off.

“consider it a lucky charm,” she replies, her eyes burning with enthusiasm. “and a reminder of what we’re about to do!”

looking up at her, your heart swells again. “you’re really something else, you know that?” you smile, feeling a warmth radiating from deep within you, thanks to her playful spirit and charisma.

as you both step out of the car, the salty breeze hits your face, and the distant sound of waves crashes joyfully against the shore. minji grabs your hand, pulling you towards the sound, and all your earlier complaints evaporate into thin air. you do not need a car after all; all you need is her.

iv. the flower necklace.

the warmth of the sun blazes overhead, bathing the beach in a golden light that glimmers off the waves rushing to meet the shore. with each step you take, the soft grains of sand squish between your toes, tickling your feet and adding a certain playfulness to the atmosphere. your hand is intertwined with minji’s, and her laughter mingles with the crashing waves, a melody more beautiful than any song.

you stroll alongside her, glancing at the various stalls lining the beach. each one brims with colorful wares, tempting treats, and handmade treasures. the salty breeze carries the scent of coconut and pineapple, and your stomach growls in agreement with the delight of your surroundings. minji tugs on your arm, her enthusiasm infectious, and you both wander from stall to stall, sampling tropical smoothies, fresh fruit skewers, and irresistibly fluffy coconut macaroons.

every few yards, you and minji pause, your excitement bubbling over as you indulge in whatever catches your fancy. a fresh coconut, juice dribbling down your fingers, followed by crispy calamari that crackles with each bite. you share each morsel, your tastes blending as effortlessly as the colors of the sunset overhead. amid the laughter, you find a rhythm—a little dance of spontaneity that sends your spirits soaring.

every few minutes, she catches your eye, a sparkle dancing on her own as she takes delight in your childish excitement. you spot a t-shirt that makes you chuckle, a caricature of a sunbather being chased by a particularly aggressive sand crab. you point it out to her, and she snorts, laughter bubbling out of her like an effervescent drink.

just as you’re finishing a sip of a particularly delicious mango smoothie, something catches your eye. the vibrant colors stand out against the myriad of summer products; delicate flower necklaces, each adorned with blooms that seem to dance in the breeze. your heart skips a beat at the sight. memories rush forward—watching “lilo & stitch” with your younger self, feeling enchanted by the characters draped in beautiful leis, and dreaming of adventure in far-off shores.

without giving it a second thought, you swallow hard, chucking the rest of your smoothie down your throat and then gently tugging on minji’s arm, a grin breaking out across your face. “look!” you exclaim, pointing toward the flower stall, your voice energized with excitement.

minji’s head turns, and you can see the moment an understanding dawns on her face. a giggle escapes her lips, both adorable and infectious. her laughter twirls on the breeze, filling you with warmth. “you want to get one, don’t you?” she teases, her eyes dancing with delight.

you nod, a fit of childish glee erupting within you. “i’ve always wanted one,” you reply, the words tumbling out in a rush. you can’t help but reminisce about the animated characters and sunny beaches from “lilo & stitch.” those images of flower necklaces draped over sun-kissed shoulders and carefree laughter imported into your heart—a wish that was born long ago, now verdantly alive in this moment. “after watching that movie … you know, lilo and stitch? i thought they were the coolest.”

minji watches you with an amused expression as you practically bounce on your heels, determined to fulfill this childhood dream. without a second of hesitation, minji draws you toward the stand, where colorful blooms create a rainbow of choices.

together you begin to examine the array of colors laid out before you. delicate plumerias, bold hibiscus, and vivid orchids jostle for your attention, each a promise of summer.

there are some with bold reds and deep purples, while others boast soft pinks and sunny yellows. scents dance around you as you lean closer, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers, their delicate notes twisted with salty ocean air.

this isn’t just about the necklace—it’s about feeling connected, about this joyful day spent with her.

“what do you think?” minji asks, plucking a necklace of creamy white and soft lavender flowers, a splash of innocence draping over her fingers.

“pretty, but not quite right…” you muse, your fingers brushing over another—a garland of fiery red and deep yellow.

"look at this, baby.” you call her attention to one that’s fully a shade of coral, with hints of pale pink blooms, and she gasps, squeezing your hand tightly. “that one is beautiful!” her excitement washes over you, and you find yourself nodding in agreement.

“i like this one too!” she responds cheerfully, holding up a strand of bright green and pink blooms, but you both know it’s more than just the colors. this is a joint decision, a symbolic choice, deepening the bond you've created together over countless sunsets and shared dreams.

minutes stretch into an eternity as you narrow down your choices. the chaotic energy from the world around you fades into a soft hum, and you lose yourselves in the exploration, each flower carefully considered. all at once, you realize that anyone else might simply choose for themselves, allowing their partner to do the same. but not you two. you want to match, to wear the same reminder of this beach day, this moment of joy—a testament to your unity.

but then, another catches your eye. it mirrors the forming hues of the sunset—oranges, purples and pinks intertwined, a dance of color just as mesmerizing as the sky above. “what about this one?” you suggest, your pulse quickening at the thought of having this vibrant mingling around your neck.

"it's beautiful..." she replies, her tone softening.

“okay… let’s go with the sunset,” you finally whisper, your voice filled with resolution.

“perfect! just like us,” minji beams, and as she hands the vendor the payment, your heart swells. you can’t help but imagine the many more fitting matches you'll create, the many more places you’ll wander together.

you both ponder and banter back and forth over which flowers suit you best, but your taste remains unwavering. the sunset necklace seems to be the perfect fit. finally, with a shared decision solidified by laughter and playful nudges, you approach the vendor and select the shimmering masterpiece draped in the colors of twilight.

with the necklaces around your necks, you step back into the world of glimmering sunlight and lapping waves, both of you grinning like children who’ve just uncovered treasure. you can’t help but feel that this moment—perfectly silly and sweet—is encapsulated by the flowered adornment hanging from your neck. the sun has nearly kissed the horizon, leaving behind a lingering glow that cascades over the ocean and dances in your drink. you sip your coconut smoothie as the taste of tropical goodness fills your mouth, sweet and sincere; you can’t help but smile at the thought of matching necklaces.

as you pass a group of children building sandcastles, minji glances sideways at you, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

“do you think we’ll look silly wearing these?” she teases, nudging you gently with her shoulder.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “not at all! we look amazing! these flowers make us look like we belong to the beach, like we really have that island spirit.”

she pauses, her gaze drifting back to the vast ocean. “you know, i promise to take you to every beach in existence. we’ll collect memories—shells, snacks, silly souvenirs like these necklaces just to see you smile.”

your heart warms at her words, feeling a rush of affection as the sunset paints both the sky and your life with promises of future adventures. “really? you’ll take me everywhere?” you ask, your voice steadily breathless with the sweetness of her promise.

“everywhere,” she insists, turning to look at you, a determination sparkling in her eyes. “from the beaches of hawaii to the secret coves of thailand, wherever there’s sand and sunshine, i’ll be there with you. just picture it! each time, i’ll buy you something silly—a flower necklace, a coconut drink, everything that brings me your smile. just knowing i could do that will be the best part.”

a laugh bursts from you, a sound of pure happiness resonating against the gentle waves lapping at your feet. you lean in closer to her, the sunset glimmering between you two like a promise sealed in gold. “deal,” you say, “but i get to buy you silly things too! matching sunglasses at every spot!”

you can’t help but chuckle, feeling a powerful feeling build in your chest. the tenderness in her words swaddles you, and you want to drink in this radiant moment, this intertwining of lives, hopes, and dreams, all while the waves lap soothingly at your feet. you look at her, the silhouette outlined against the fiery colors of the sunset fading into dusk.

the beach stretches ahead like a canvas, every step you take is a brushstroke of laughter and affection. you glance down at your matching necklaces, a delightful reminder of the time spent together, a tiny paradise wrapped around your neck.

v. the hibiscus flower and the bag of sand.

the sound of the gentle tide of the sea fills your ears as you lie on the blanket, the cool morning air wrapping around you like a warm embrace. you find yourself next to minji, who is curled up on her side, her eyes sparkling like the ocean waves licking the shore. this moment, just before dawn, is special—just the two of you beneath a canvas of stars and the promise of a new day. you came here to catch the sunrise, but the stillness before the world awakens seems just as gratifying.

a faint orange hue begins to bleed across the horizon, and as you glance toward it, you feel her fingers playing with a small red hibiscus flower. it’s vibrant against the muted white of the blanket, and she gently runs it through her fingers, as if deciding whether to keep it or share it. you close your eyes, absorbing the soft symphony of the sea, but not before catching her gaze fixed on you—an invitation to linger in this shared silence.

while you listen to the ebb and flow of the water, exhaustion nips at your eyelids. the events of the previous night, filled with laughter and play as you splashed amongst the waves, seem to catch up with you. it takes only a moment before you feel the blissful pull toward sleep, but as you drift away, minji’s soft touch brushes against your cheek. it’s a playful gesture, yet one that pulls you back into the moment. you open your eyes just in time to see her tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“what are you doing?” you ask, your voice a husky whisper, still thick with sleep.

“just admiring your beauty,” she replies, the corners of her mouth curling into that familiar mischievous smile. the warmth in her voice spreads through you, igniting a delightful blush on your cheeks.

her fingers dance to your ear and, with gentle care, she places the hibiscus there, adjusting it until it sits perfectly, a blissful crown of nature’s artistry. you can’t help but smile back, charmed as always by her romantic gestures.

“you know what, baby? it looks better on you,” she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “but we should keep it. a little memento of this morning.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “flowers wither when cut, minji. it’ll probably end up in the bin before the week is out.”

she shrugs, her gaze never leaving yours. “ah, but that’s where you’re wrong! the love i’m giving this flower is so strong, i think it’ll hold onto its beauty. just like my love for you.”

you can practically hear your heart melting at her words. such cheesy remarks usually draw your playful banter, but this time, something shifts within you. it’s as if the tide itself is pulling you deeper toward her, a swell of emotion crashing against all your defenses.

“okay, okay,” you sigh, pretending to be exasperated. “but if it turns brown, i’m blaming you.”

minji giggles—a sound so pure it almost makes the waves pause to listen. you can’t help but feel how lucky you are. moments like this, where laughter dances between you, replace the worries that often plague your mind. after another quiet span, you let the comforting silence wash over you, enveloping both of you in a bubble of serenity.

but just as you’re about to let the silence deepen, minji leans closer, her voice teasingly conspiratorial. “you could also take some sand home. think of it as a souvenir!”

you burst into laughter at the absurdity of it. “sand? are you out of your mind? it smells terrible after a while, and it gets everywhere!”

“exactly!” she pipes up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “it’s memorable! just like us, a little messy and a lot of fun.”

you find yourself chuckling at her absurdity more than ever, realizing that it’s this very quirkiness that first drew you to her. you grab a handful of soft, glistening sand, letting the grains run through your fingers, contemplating the idea. “okay, but i’m gonna need a bigger bag for this! i don’t want a pocketful of sand giving me a scuffle every time i change pants.”

minji laughs alongside you, her joy infectious. as you tease her, your fingers slip into the sand, and you realize how sacred this moment is. here, in this place far removed from the noise of everyday life, your connection flourishes with every giggle and flick of a sandy finger.

as the horizon erupts into hues of orange and gold, the sun begins to rise, casting a soft glow over the landscape. minji sits up, her eyes focused on the sun breaking free from the ocean, and you can’t help but follow her lead. the beauty of it leaves you breathless—so much more spectacular with her by your side.

“look at that,” you say in awe, gesturing toward the spectrum of colors before you. “it’s almost as beautiful as you.”

she turns to you, her smile wide and her cheeks slightly flushed. “almost?”

you chuckle, folding your arms behind your head as you lean back against the blanket. “i’ll give you that one. you win this round.”

you stop digging, overwhelmed by the cascade of memories flooding your mind: the spontaneous karaoke nights, the whispered secrets under the star-speckled sky, the way she would scrunch her nose when something amused her. all those shared moments now feel like a ghostly echo rather than cherished memories.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you remember the way it all came crashing down. the finality of it, the breakup — sharp, sudden, and unyielding. you thought the pain would fade over time, but today, as you sift through the remains of your shared lives, it surfaces anew, raw and pulsing.

and when tears threaten to escape from your eyes, you wipe them hastily, feeling embarrassment swell within you. how ridiculous it is, you think, that just last week you’d been laughing with friends, discussing life’s ups and downs, yet here you are, drawn back into this melancholic spiral. the laughter, all of it, feels like a distant echo, replaced by a deafening silence in your heart.

lost in the mire of your thoughts, you hardly notice the gentle knock on the door. instinctively, you swipe at your eyes and attempt to refocus as if doing so will wash away the sadness.

“sweetheart, the cookies are ready!” your mother’s voice weaves through the door, warm and inviting.

you had almost forgotten that she was baking. It’s her way of comforting you, her quiet attempt to be there despite the distance, the unspoken hurts you both carry. gathering yourself, you wipe away the remaining tears, trying to shake off the heavy feelings that weigh on your chest. you can’t let her see you this way, not now.

“okay, i’ll be down in a minute!” you call back, your voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within.

you take a final glance at the box, then close it, as if sealing away the sorrow with your memories. as you step back, it feels like the door to that chapter of your life is slowly closing. you remind yourself that those days were real, that the joy was real, but so was the ending. it's time to move forward.

as you descend the stairwell, the warm aroma of freshly baked cookies fills the air, pulling you from your reverie. your stomach grumbles, but more importantly, you feel the warmth of home enveloping you like a hug.

in the kitchen, your mother stands by the oven, a cheerful smile brightening her face. the familiarity, the routine of this moment is comforting. she glances over her shoulder and notices the shadows lingering in your expression.

“everything okay?” she asks, her brow furrowed with concern.

you hesitate, caught between the urge to confide and the instinct to shield her from your heartache. “yeah, just… looking through some old things,” you finally reply, a touch of variability in your voice but masking the depth of the sentiment.

she approaches, an understanding glimmer in her eyes. “sometimes memories can be bittersweet, can’t they?”

you nod, appreciating the wisdom behind her words, knowing she too has weathered her own storms of nostalgia.

“settle down with some cookies and coffee,” she says with a gentle nudge. “you need a sweet distraction.”

your mother looks at you, her face lighting up with a warmth that melts away some of the coldness inside. “i saved the best batch just for you,” she says, sliding the plate closer.

“thanks, mom,” you mumble, leaning down to take a cookie. the sweetness bursts on your tongue, and for a fleeting moment, everything is good again. you can almost hear your mother recounting the day she taught you how to bake, flour-dusted and mischievously knocking over containers in a fit of laughter. you let the warmth spread through you, memories mingling with the taste of chocolate chips and heavy cream.

and for the moment, the warmth of the kitchen, the sweetness of the cookies, and your mother’s reassurance begins to act as a balm. you realize that healing isn’t linear; it’s a series of moments strung together, a gradual return to finding joy amidst the shadows of the past.

you take a deep breath and feel a flicker of hope as you sit down at the kitchen table, ready to embrace the present.

#minji #minji x reader #kim minji #kim minji x reader #newjeans #newjeans x reader #new jeans #new jeans x reader #kpop x reader

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whxtedreams · 4 months ago

Text

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love.

A Jackson!Joel x f!reader oneshot

Summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: Jackson!joel, mentions of ellie and her AMAZING puns, Tommy providing comfort, pain, heartache, fear, anxiety, love, apologies, kissing, desperation. reader has she/her pronouns as i write in third person POV, reader has hair Joel can play with, reader has no other descriptions- photos for aesthetic purpose only.

Main masterlist

With pain and heartache, she watched him live without her.

Her eyes watched every move he made. Every step he took. Every smile he blessed those around him with.

It was an aching reminder of what could have been. The weight of their unresolved past seemed only visible to her. Every breath she took a battle in the heaviness in her chest.

She longed to reach out, to bridge that gap between them she did not realize had begun to form until it was too late.

But the fear of making what little they had left worse held her back. So, she stood in silent agony, her heart breaking as she watched Joel from across the bar.

Tommy had found his way to her, a smile of sympathy and drink in hand. His eyes filled with sadness and understanding, a silent acknowledgment to the suffering.

He knew, after all. Knew how prone his brother was at breaking those he cared for. Tommy had been broken too.

He held the drink out to her. “Thought you could use this,” he said softly. His voice was gentle like a comforting embrace.

Her eyes slowly pulled away from Joel as she accepted the drink. She watched the liquid within swirl around in the glass and she found herself hypnotized by its movement. The memory of Joel's drunken state when he pushed her away resurfaced, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The sight of the drink in her hand now felt like a cruel reminder of his harsh rejection.

“He’ll come around, always does,” Tommy said, his hand gently placed on her shoulder.

The words were meant to comfort her, but they felt hollow and insincere. She knew the truth, deep down. This time it felt different, a finality to Joel’s actions.

His absence stung, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. She forced a small nod, struggling to feign optimism. "He said he could never love me." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Tommy sighed. His hand fell from her shoulder. He cast a glance at Joel, then back at her, conflict and concern etched across his face.

Her eyes trailed back to Joel, drawn by Tommy's gaze. There he was, laughing heartily at Ellie, her pun book in hand as she hunched over in laughter.

The sight of him happy and carefree, the sound of his laughter filling the air, made her heart ache. She tried to hold back the pain, to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help but yearn for the past.

"He's scared of losing you," Tommy said.

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing the silent weight that rested on her shoulders. She knew he was right, that fear had been a driving force behind Joel's actions. But it didn't make it any easier to bear the hurt and disappointment his fear had caused. She nodded silently, her gaze fixed on Joel and Ellie, their joyful exchange a bittersweet contrast to her own internal turmoil.

Her eyes left Joel and locked onto Tommy's. "If he's so scared of losing me, then why did he push me away?" she asked, her voice quivered as tears threatened to escape her eyes. The desperation and confusion in her voice hung in the air, seeking an answer that she knew might never come.

Tommy's expression softened as he looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

"He's lost a lot, I suppose he'd rather push you away on his terms than let fate do it for him.”

The pain of Joel’s past losses echoed through her mind. She knew the weight of his pain had shaped him, had forced him to build walls around himself. He'd rather sever ties than risk the hurt of losing someone he let himself love, even if it meant losing them in the process.

Her eyes slowly returned to Joel and as their gazes locked, she saw the intensity in his eyes. It was clear he had been watching her, their gazes drawn to each other like magnets. There was something different in his eyes, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She held his gaze for a moment, questioning the thoughts and emotions that flickered across his face.

Did he regret it? she thought, her mind filled with uncertainty. Did he miss her like she missed him?

Did he still lie in bed, reaching for her in the early hours of the morning? Like he had on those nights under the stars during their journey to Jackson.

Did he still clench his fists by his side or fidget with the watch on his wrist when he didn't know what to say? Did he miss her taking his hand in hers to distract him?

Did he wish that he loved her?

Or did he regret it all?

"It might not seem like it anymore, but he cares for you," Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I saw it when he carried you in, see it now." She turned to him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but there was none.

Only honesty and concern reflected on her.

Her gaze returned to Joel, drawn by his movement as he stood from the table.

His eyes were on her, only her.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration as she handed the glass back to Tommy. Ignoring his call for her, she turned and walked out of the bar, desperately needing some fresh air and space to collect her thoughts.

The night air hit her as she stepped outside, cold and crisp, and it provided a respite from the oppressive atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart and tumultuous emotions.

Oh fuck, she thought. She fucking missed him.

And as if her heart seemed to call for him, she heard the door open once more. She turned to see Joel step out, the soft light of the moon bathing them in a silvery glow. It was as if the night itself tried to bring them together.

She looked at him from behind watery eyes, her emotions threatening to overflow. In turn, he watched her with eyes that mirrored her own pain, a reflection of the suffering that had come between them. They stood there under the night sky, silent and yet speaking volumes, each knowing the depth of the other's heartache.

Only difference was, he had caused all of this.

The unfairness of it all, the weight of the isolation and pain he had inflicted upon her, pressed down on her like his own heavy hand. He stood there, the cause of her heartache, while she endured his consequences alone. The anger and anguish in her heart flared, but it couldn't overpower the deep love and longing she still carried within her.

Joel didn't utter a word, and she didn't expect him to. Instead, he closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight embrace. His hand rested on her head, his touch gentle and comforting as he cradled her against his chest. His nose to her hair. Her hands trembled as they clutched onto the fabric of his jacket, holding him tightly, as if she was afraid he might disappear.

He pulled back slightly and lifted her face gently. His fingers traced her cheek as if his touch would break her. Their gaze met, and she saw the well of pain reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper that hung in the night like a fragile thread.

From anyone else, the apology may have felt hollow, meaningless. But from Joel's lips, it held a weight and significance that she understood. For an apology from him was rare and precious, like discovering clean, fresh water in the middle of a vast wasteland. The impact of his words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within her heart. She could feel the significance of each syllable, was a lifeline in her sea of despair. A flicker of hope in the darkness that had enveloped her heart.

"I should never have told you to leave." He spoke again, his voice choked with emotion, his eyes never left hers.

The words hung heavily in the air, a confession of regret that cut deep. A single tear slipped down his face, a testament to the depth of his remorse. It was a crack in the stoic facade he often wore, a glimpse into the depths of his own hurt and guilt.

She had never seen him cry.

The tear, a crystalline droplet that glistened on his cheek.

"Why did you push me away, then? As if I never meant anything to you," she said, her heart shattered by his own hands.

Joel shut his eyes, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm on her face. His other hand clenched tightly at the fabric of her waist, while the one holding her face remained gentle and tender, a stark contrast to his tense grip.

His voice trembled as he spoke, each word laden with truth. "I'm so scared I'll let you in, only for you to die on me," he confessed. "I can't lose you too."

His fingers trembled against her skin. She reached up and gently took his hand in hers, bringing it to rest over her heart. It beat a steady rhythm under his palm, a silent reassurance that she was there, alive and breathing.

“You are losing me Joel.”

Joel opened his eyes, so full of pain as he took in her words.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was a mere whisper against her lips. And then, a breathless moment.

His lips delicately touched hers, a whisper-soft kiss filled with tenderness and vulnerability, as fragile as a butterfly's wing. It was as if he were afraid to press too hard, to cause her any more harm than he already had.

As quick as it began, it was over. He pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before he tucked her head back into his chest. His fingers played with her hair as he looked up at the starry night sky and she could feel his body relaxing as he held her close.

"If the Lord gave me another chance, I would go back and make things right," he said as his heartbeat quickened beneath her ear. Her hand found its way to his chest as it laid over his heart soothingly, if only to calm the anxiety that had taken root within him.

"All I do is miss you. I can’t sleep, can’t eat. I was so stupid to push you away," he confessed, his chest shuddered with a soft sob. She pulled back slightly, only to witness a torrent of tears streaming down his face. The single tear had multiplied as it turned to a river of sorrow that spoke louder than any words could.

She gently wiped the tears from his face as her own fell silently in tandem.

His bottom lip trembled, and without a second thought, she did what came naturally to her. Her lips found his in a tender kiss and she could feel the tension in him slowly melt away as he released a shuddering breath.

His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. He poured months of pent-up emotions into the kiss, a mix of regret, yearning, and a love so powerful it threatened to consume them both. Teeth scrapped against teeth, a primal collision of passion and desperation. It was a moment of intense connection, a release of the feelings that had been locked away for far too long.

Her back shoved against the hard surface of the wall. His hands roamed over her body in a desperate attempt to re-familiarize himself with every contour, every dip and curve. It was as if he was trying to memorize her all over again, as if he were afraid she would disappear from his grasp once more.

The pain she had carried with her began to fade away under the onslaught of his lips against hers, his touch hungry and urgent. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fingers clenching the fabric tightly as if she was afraid to let go. Afraid that if she did, he too would slip through her grasp once more.

Their mouths explored each other fiercely, the taste, the feel, the essence of each other an intoxicating drug that they had been deprived of for too long.

So desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

The sound of the bar doors opening shattered the intimate bubble that had enveloped them. Noise spilled into the night air from inside as they hastily tore themselves away from each other. Their gazes locked with Tommy's as he stood frozen in the doorway, surprise etched across his face.

Tommy's eyes flicked down to where Joel's thigh had found its way between hers. "Jesus Christ, can you two make up somewhere else?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Joel's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he chuckled, out of breath. His calloused hands held her face tenderly; the rough pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks. He looked down at her with tenderness and amusement, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Tommy mumbled under his breath as he walked back inside.

“What do you say, come home?” he asked. A hint of hopefulness in his voice, tempered by the fear that shone in his eyes.

“Do you love me?” She asked.

“I want to try.” He said without a beat.

“I think I can live with that.”

The night was quiet, the silence only broken by the soft whisper of the wind as it blew in through the open window. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of the stars outside, their light danced through the gaps in the curtain that fluttered in the breeze.

Joel's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his body wrapped tightly around hers. He inhaled deeply; his breath warm against her neck. His arms encircled her, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid to let go. He was seeking comfort in her presence, finding solace in her warmth and familiarity.

She was too afraid to sleep. Worried that when she woke, he would be gone once more.

As the first light of day crept through the window, her eyes slowly opened and she expected to find an empty space beside her. However, his grip on her remained firm as he pulled her closer into his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he slept peacefully, forever reaching for her. A wave of relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She made a silent vow to herself as she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. No matter how far he tried to push her away, no matter how much pain spilled from him and to her, she would never let go of him again. She would fight, crawl, and struggle with every ounce of her being to get back to him.

With comfort and love, she watched him sleep by her.

Notes

this was meant to be around 0.5k but it just kept going??? also Flora writes about kissing as someone who’s never been kissed so as always, take it with a grain of salt as i have no idea what i’m talking about lol - should honestly be a warning itself had a yucky day so here's some hurt & comfort also the starting line and ending line match and im proud of that lol.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller #tlou tommy

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

Where Dragons Dare (3/3)

- Summary: Years later, Vaemond Velaryon petitions for his rightful claim to Driftmark. And a broken family must mend wounds that were inflicted long ago.

- Paring: male!targ reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin brother of Rhaenyra and is bonded with a dragon. If you want to read more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

- A/N: this was requested by @witch-of-letters. I hope you enjoy this conclusion to the story. 🙂

- Previous chapter: 2

- Bonus part: Lost Chapters

You sit beside Alicent in your private chambers, the golden light of the late afternoon filtering through the high windows of the Red Keep. The day had been long, burdened by the weight of ruling in your father’s stead, and yet the discussion you’re having with your wife weighs heavier still. Rhaenyra’s impending visit to King’s Landing brings back memories—some bittersweet, some festering like old wounds—and it’s all been cast into sharper focus by Corlys Velaryon’s grievous injury. Now, with Vaemond Velaryon’s petition to claim Driftmark, the political storm brewing could tear apart the fragile peace you've fought to maintain.

Alicent’s eyes are fixed on you, concern mixed with resolve in those familiar dark depths. She’s changed over the years, just as you have; she’s no longer the uncertain girl manipulated by her father, but a woman of keen insight and strength—your equal and partner in every sense.

“It’s clear why Vaemond is pressing his claim,” she says quietly, her voice laced with tension. “He isn’t wrong to seek what he believes is his by rights. Driftmark belongs to the Velaryons, and the boys… well, it’s plain they’re not Laenor’s blood.”

Your eyes snap to hers, a flicker of warning there. “You shouldn’t speak of such things aloud, Alicent. Not with the walls of the Red Keep so eager to whisper.”

“It’s true, Y/N,” she replies firmly, her gaze unyielding. “Everyone knows it, even if they pretend not to. Viserys decreed them legitimate, but we all see the truth. The danger is in the pretense, in clinging to a lie for the sake of peace. But what peace is this, really? Vaemond’s words hold merit. Driftmark’s true heirs are being passed over for a fabricated legacy.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, the air thick with unspoken tensions that have lingered since the day of Laena’s funeral. Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to that dreadful night when everything unraveled—when Aemond claimed Vhagar and lost his eye for it. The memory of his pained screams still haunts you, a knife twisting in your heart each time you recall it. He bore it bravely, far braver than you expected from a boy his age, but the scars left behind were not just physical.

You let out a weary sigh, leaning back against the cushioned seat as your gaze falls to the intricate patterns on the stone floor. “I demanded justice for Aemond,” you murmur, bitterness seeping into your tone. “Luke should’ve been punished, but Father protected Rhaenyra as he always does. Her children are his blind spot, even now. She never truly acknowledged her son’s fault, not really, and from that moment on… everything between us was strained. We’re twins, yet she became a stranger after that day.”

Alicent’s fingers brush against yours, a silent comfort in her touch. “I’ve never forgotten what happened. I never will. It’s easy for Rhaenyra to speak of unity and family, but the truth is her actions always served her ambitions. She’s isolated herself on Dragonstone with Daemon, as if that distance absolves her from the mess she’s left behind.”

Your frown deepens. You love your sister, you do—but those love-blind affections have long been clouded by bitter reality. The bond you once shared feels frayed, worn thin by years of conflict and choices that placed her interests above everything else. Her sons—Jace, Luke, and little Joffrey—hold a place in your heart, but even that affection is tainted by the lies everyone is forced to maintain. You cannot forget how easily your own pleas for justice were disregarded, how Viserys himself demanded silence when you spoke of the truth.

“Viserys is clinging to a fantasy,” you say after a moment, your voice hard. “He wants to die believing that everything he’s built will remain intact, that the realm will carry on in harmony with Rhaenyra and her children. But there’s rot beneath the surface, and the realm won’t turn a blind eye forever.”

Alicent watches you carefully, her expression unreadable for a moment before softening. “It’s not only you who sees it. The lords whisper, the court shifts uneasily. And now Vaemond has brought that truth into the open, no longer content to pretend. The coming days will test the loyalty of those who have only remained silent out of fear.”

A silence falls once more, only broken by the distant cries of gulls and the muffled sounds of the capital below. The sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting sundown shadows across the room, but you can’t bring yourself to end this conversation, not when it feels as though so much is at stake.

“I don’t know what Viserys will do when Rhaenyra arrives,” you admit quietly. “He’s always favored her, always turned a blind eye when it comes to her and her children. If he sides with her again, if he dismisses Vaemond… it will spark something we may not be able to contain.”

Alicent shifts closer, her hand finding yours once more. “Then we must be ready for what comes. You are Prince Regent, Y/N. You have the authority to act, to protect the realm as you see fit. I know where my loyalties lie.”

You look at her, seeing the determination in her eyes, the quiet devotion that’s never wavered. She’s your wife, the mother of your children, and the one person who has stood beside you through all of it. The bitterness that lingers between you and Rhaenyra doesn’t extend here; with Alicent, there’s no pretense, no lies hidden behind strained smiles.

As night finally creeps over the capital, the light outside fading into a deep indigo, the two of you remain locked in conversation. You speak of the future, of what may come when Rhaenyra and Daemon set foot in the Red Keep, of the lines that may be drawn in the sand.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth as the night deepens, emitting warm flickers of light across your private chambers. The weight of the day’s troubles has lessened, replaced by the comfort of Alicent’s presence. The two of you remain close, sharing lingering touches and quiet words. As you move behind her, your hands begin to wander, gliding across the soft fabric of her gown. You hold her close, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath beneath your fingertips. Your lips brush against her ear as you murmur, “I think I must confess my sins before the gods, though I fear they are far too many.”

Alicent turns her head slightly, raising an eyebrow at your words. There’s a moment where she appears to take your confession seriously, but then her expression shifts, lips twitching as she fails to suppress a laugh. “That was horrible,” she chuckles, shaking her head, her laughter lightening the mood.

You grin, enjoying the way her laughter sounds, how it brightens the shadows of the evening. “Perhaps, but I’m not sure the gods would easily forgive me if they knew the true extent of my sins,” you jest, voice low and teasing as your hands tighten around her waist.

Her laughter softens into something more intimate as she turns fully toward you, her gaze lingering on your lips before she closes the distance. The kiss is slow at first, a familiar dance of lips and breath, but it quickly deepens as passion flares between you. Her fingers thread through your hair, pulling you closer, and the world outside the chambers fades away. It’s just the two of you—no titles, no crowns, only the warmth of her body pressed against yours.

In the growing heat of the moment, clothing becomes a hindrance, something to be discarded in favor of the closeness you both crave. Your hands make quick work of her gown, letting it slip from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She helps you shed your attire just as quickly until bare skin meets bare skin. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before Alicent pushes you back onto the bed with a determined glint in her eye.

You watch as she climbs atop you, her every movement measured and deliberate. The sight of her like this—confident and in control—ignites something in you, a hunger that’s always been there but now roars to life. “You look like a queen,” you whisper, voice husky, your hands finding her hips as she guides you into her. “My heart, my love.”

Alicent gasps softly, closing her eyes as she sinks onto you, the slow, steady rhythm she sets sending shivers through you both. The pleasure builds gradually, each movement deliberate and teasing. You can see the mischief in her eyes as she reaches for a nearby candle, tipping it just enough to let drops of warm wax fall onto your chest. The heat is a sharp contrast against your skin, but it only spurs your desire further.

“To raise the dragon with fire,” she whispers, her voice low and filled with a playful edge as the wax continues to drip.

You chuckle darkly, gripping her hips more firmly as you thrust upward. “The dragon is already raised, my love.” Your words send a thrill through her, and the pace quickens as she moves above you, her moans mingling with your own.

The candles forgotten, they clatter to the floor as her movements become more intense, both of you teetering on the edge of release. But just as you feel yourself ready to fall over that precipice, Alicent suddenly stops, lifting herself away from you. The absence leaves you throbbing with frustration, your desire only heightened by the way she watches you, a knowing smile curving her lips.

“What are you doing?” you groan, the teasing ache almost too much to bear.

She leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss that only stokes the fire in your blood. “Patience, my love,” she whispers against your lips, her voice dripping with teasing amusement. But patience has never been your strong suit, not when it comes to her.

With a growl of determination, you flip her beneath you, your body pressing hers into the soft sheets. You position her on her stomach, her back arched as you take hold of her hips and guide yourself back into her. She moans your name, the sound sending a rush of satisfaction through you as you begin to move with renewed urgency, your rhythm rough and intense, driven by the need to claim her fully.

Alicent’s fingers clutch at the sheets as each thrust draws another cry of pleasure from her lips. You lean down, your mouth brushing against her ear as you whisper praises between ragged breaths, telling her how beautiful she is, how perfect, how she belongs to you as much as you belong to her. The words seem to drive her wild, her voice trembling as she reaches for that peak again.

The pace grows frantic as you both reach the edge together, your bodies locked in perfect harmony. With one final thrust, you feel the tension snap, sending you both spiraling into a shared high that leaves you breathless, your minds lost in the euphoria of your union.

When the last waves of pleasure fade, you collapse beside her, gathering her into your arms as you both catch your breath. The night is quiet now, only the distant hum of the city outside breaking the stillness. You press a kiss to her temple, your heart still pounding in your chest.

For now, in this moment, everything else can wait.

The corridors of the Red Keep echo softly with your footfalls as you walk side by side with your eldest son, Aegon. The council meeting had been more taxing than usual, and you could see the strain in the boy’s eyes, though he hides it behind a practiced indifference. You glance at him, noting how he chews the inside of his cheek—a habit he’s never quite grown out of.

“Father, I—” Aegon starts, his voice tense, betraying the anxiety that simmers beneath his confident exterior. “I didn’t mean to sound insolent when I questioned Lord Lyman, I just—”

You stop, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You did well, Aegon,” you say, cutting through his worry. “There was no fault in what you said. You spoke with strength and clarity, and you asked the right questions. We must be clear in our decisions, especially when others are too hesitant to say what needs to be said.”

Aegon blinks, the tension easing from his brow. He nods slowly, his expression softening. “Thank you, Father.” His voice is quieter now, laced with gratitude, and as the two of you continue walking, his steps seem lighter. The bond between you is often tested by his impulsiveness and uncertainty, but moments like this remind you that beneath the bravado, Aegon seeks your approval, your guidance.

You approach the sunroom, where a midday meal awaits. The bright sunlight streams through the windows, bathing the space in warmth. Already seated are Aemond, Helaena, and Daeron, each engaged in their own conversations. Helaena’s face lights up the moment she sees you, her smile wide and genuine.

“Father! I finished my collection,” she announces excitedly, almost bouncing in her seat. Her gaze sparkles with the kind of innocent joy you’ve always cherished in her.

You smile back, a rare softness in your eyes. “That’s wonderful, Helaena. I promise I’ll come by later and see it. I’m sure it’s even more impressive than the last one.”

She beams at your words, her contentment visible, before returning her focus to the small assortment of insect jars she’s arranged on the table.

Aemond and Daeron, standing nearby, approach you as well. Aemond, ever the observant one, nods in greeting. “Father, it seems preparations for tonight’s feast are nearly complete. Mother mentioned that Rhaenyra’s arrival will likely set tongues wagging.” His tone is measured, hiding a touch of wariness behind his composed demeanor.

“Let them wag,” Daeron adds with a grin, his youthful energy apparent. “We’ll hold our own, as we always do.”

You can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest at how they’ve grown—each of them distinct in temperament, but unified by the bonds of family. “We will,” you agree, placing a reassuring hand on Daeron’s shoulder.

Before the conversation can continue, the door to the sunroom opens, and Alicent steps inside. Her eyes sweep across the room before settling on you. A subtle crease forms between her brows as she notices the slight grimace on your face—a telltale sign of discomfort you’ve never been able to fully mask from her. She moves toward you, concern evident in her expression.

“Y/N, is your leg bothering you again?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Before you can answer, Helaena, ever attuned to things others overlook, speaks up from her seat. “It’s the weather. The clouds are moving in. His leg hurts when the air changes like that.”

Alicent’s alarm deepens. “Should I summon Grand Maester Orwyle to examine it? Perhaps there’s something he can do.”

You shake your head, offering her a comforting smile. “It’s nothing to worry over, Alicent. Just an old pain from that fall off Dallax years ago. It comes and goes with the weather, as Helaena said. I’ll be fine.”

Though she nods, you can see that she’s not fully reassured, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm, a silent expression of her lingering concern.

The moment is broken by a knock at the door, and one of the guards steps inside, bowing slightly. “Your Grace, the Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon have arrived with their children. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Vaemond are with them as well.”

A heavy sigh escapes you, the weight of the situation pressing down like an iron mantle. “Of course they have,” you mutter under your breath, straightening your posture. Turning back to Alicent, you catch her worried gaze, knowing she senses the unease that tightens in your chest. This reunion has all the makings of a volatile confrontation, and the old wounds that have never fully healed threaten to bleed anew.

“I must go and welcome them,” you say, your voice measured but weary. The obligations of duty pull you forward, even when your heart longs to stay here with your family in this fleeting moment of peace.

Alicent steps closer, her fingers brushing against your sleeve in a silent gesture of support. “We’ll be by your side.”

You nod, grateful for her presence, and glance back at your children, who watch you with varying degrees of concern and curiosity. Even now, they look to you for strength, for guidance, and you cannot fail them. Not today. Not ever.

With one last glance at the warm sunlit room—a sanctuary from the political storm outside—you prepare yourself for the inevitable tension that awaits in the great hall. The time for peace and warmth has passed; now, you must step back into the fray.

The throne room is heavy with the weight of history, the distant clang of armor and murmured whispers echoing through the vast chamber. You stand at the base of the Iron Throne, the twisted swords looming behind you like the sharp shadows of past decisions. This place has always felt suffocating—the power it represents, the burden it imposes—but today, it seems even more so. The air is filled with anticipation, with all the words left unspoken over the years, words that now hover like ghosts between you and your sister.

The grand doors creak open, and in walks Rhaenyra, flanked by Daemon and her children. The entourage is impressive in its own right. But your eyes meet Rhaenyra’s first, a mixture of affection and lingering resentment flickering in her gaze. Daemon’s expression is inscrutable as ever, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, as if he’s already prepared for whatever battle this day might bring.

“Brother,” Rhaenyra greets, her voice formal but laced with a warmth she struggles to fully suppress. The distance between you isn’t just measured by the steps she takes toward you but by the years of strained silences and fractured trust. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long indeed,” you reply, giving her a nod. “Though I wish it were under different circumstances.”

She glances back at her children—Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey—who linger closer to their stepfather. It’s a small, subtle act, but one that doesn’t escape your notice. The lines have already been drawn, loyalties established, even within family. Your eyes shift momentarily to Lucerys, who shifts uncomfortably under your gaze. The memory of that night, when Aemond lost his eye, still lingers in the corners of your mind like a festering wound.

Daemon steps forward, offering you a mocking half-bow. “Prince Regent,” he drawls, the title rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement. “I trust King’s Landing hasn’t dulled your edge in all this politicking?”

“King’s Landing has taught me that sharper edges are often hidden behind polished words,” you counter, meeting his smirk with one of your own. “But some things remain constant, no matter how much time has passed.”

There’s a flicker of something in Daemon’s eyes—approval, perhaps—but he gives nothing more than a faint nod. The moment stretches as if both of you are waiting for the other to strike first, but the tension is cut by the sound of more footsteps entering the throne room.

Alicent appears, resplendent in her green gown, with Aegon and Aemond trailing just behind her. They take their places beside you, Alicent’s presence a quiet assurance amidst the charged atmosphere. Her eyes briefly meet Rhaenyra’s—a mixture of cordiality and something more guarded passing between them.

Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts back to you, her expression tight. “All this—Vaemond’s petition, this charade in court—is unnecessary. Corlys has already named Luke as his heir. This is nothing more than a farce driven by Vaemond’s ambition and desperation.”

You hold her gaze steadily, the words she speaks true, but there’s a bitterness beneath the surface that neither of you can quite hide. “Rhaenyra, you know as well as I do that perception is as powerful as truth in the eyes of the court. Vaemond’s claims are not without support among those who see blood over words. He’s leveraged the uncertainty surrounding Corlys’s health to rally those who resent the decree Viserys made years ago.”

“Resentment or ambition, it hardly matters,” Rhaenyra counters, her voice hardening. “Luke is Corlys’s chosen heir. This is nothing more than a blatant attempt to undermine our family, to sow discord in favor of personal gain.”

Before you can respond, Aemond’s cool voice cuts through the tension. “And yet, the matter has been brought before the court. The Driftwood Throne is more than just a seat; it represents the stability of our alliances and the power of the Velaryon fleet. Vaemond knows this well.”

Aegon shifts beside his brother, clearly eager to speak, but there’s an undercurrent of caution in his posture. “Let them debate the bloodlines and the claims. It’s all they seem to care about. But it’s our family’s unity that hangs in the balance.”

Alicent’s hand subtly rests on Aegon’s arm, a silent encouragement to temper his words. You can feel her worry radiating beside you, though she remains composed. “We cannot afford to be careless,” she adds, her voice steady. “The lords and ladies of the court are watching closely, each with their own interests at heart. We must tread carefully, especially with those like Vaemond, who are prepared to exploit any perceived weakness.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens only slightly, the strain of years apart visible in the lines around her eyes. “I don’t want this to tear us further apart, brother. The realm needs stability, not more division. But it feels as though every step I take, every decision I make, is met with suspicion.”

You take a breath, weighing your words carefully. “Rhaenyra, I never wished for distance between us, nor did I want our paths to diverge as they have. But the choices we make carry consequences—sometimes ones we never intend. I want to believe that we can still find a way forward, even with everything that stands between us.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow slightly, watching you with a calculating gaze. He’s never been one to shy away from conflict, but even he seems to recognize that this moment is a delicate one.

Before anything further can be said, Alicent’s attention shifts as she catches sight of movement near the entrance. “It seems our guests have arrived.”

The doors swing open again, and in walk Princess Rhaenys and Lord Vaemond Velaryon, their presence commanding attention. Vaemond’s expression is one of grim determination, while Rhaenys’s gaze remains neutral, though there’s an underlying tension in the way she holds herself.

You sigh inwardly, the weight of what’s to come pressing heavily on your shoulders. “I must welcome them,” you say quietly, though the words feel more like a duty than a choice.

With a final glance at Alicent and your children, you steel yourself, ready to face whatever storm this day may bring.

The throne room is filled with an air of tension so thick it nearly suffocates, a place where every word and glance carries the weight of the realm’s future. You sit in front of the Iron Throne, flanked by your family—Alicent at your side, with Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, and Daeron standing proudly beside you. Otto stands as a silent sentinel to your left, his expression carefully neutral but his calculating mind undoubtedly working behind those cold eyes.

This is your trial to preside over, not his.

Vaemond Velaryon stands before the court, his expression carved from stone, his voice carrying the authority of a man with righteous conviction. “I speak plainly because this matter is not one of politics, but of truth! The Driftwood Throne is a legacy that cannot be tainted by a lie. Lucerys Velaryon is no true Velaryon. He carries no blood of our house—he is not the son of Laenor Velaryon!”

Murmurs ripple through the gathered lords and ladies, some leaning in, eager to witness the drama unfold. Vaemond’s words are like daggers thrown across the room, aimed directly at Rhaenyra and her children. You can see the steel in her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line as she holds her composure. Daemon stands beside her, eyes narrowing at the offense, but he remains still, his calculating mind no doubt waiting for the right moment to strike.

You raise a hand to silence the room, your voice calm but firm. “Lord Vaemond, you’ve made your case. But it is not solely yours to decide. Princess Rhaenys, as the wife of Lord Corlys and the one who has stood by his side through every battle and storm, you have the most voice in this matter. Speak now, for the realm listens.”

Rhaenys steps forward, her presence commanding respect. Dressed in the deep blacks and reds of her house, she carries the pride of House Velaryon on her shoulders, yet her expression remains inscrutable. You watch her closely, knowing that her words will determine more than just the fate of Driftmark—they will shape alliances and define loyalties.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she begins, her voice clear and unwavering. “It is true that my lord husband is gravely injured and unable to speak for himself. But before he took ill, he made his wishes clear. He named Lucerys as his heir. My husband’s word is law on Driftmark, and I intend to honor it.”

Vaemond shifts uncomfortably, but remains silent for now.

Rhaenys continues, her gaze moving to Rhaenyra before settling on you. “Furthermore, Princess Rhaenyra has proposed a union—one that would not only preserve the legacy of House Velaryon but strengthen it. She has offered her son, Lucerys, to wed my granddaughter, Rhaena. A match I wholeheartedly support.”

The court stirs at this revelation. You feel the weight of Rhaenys’s decision pressing against your chest. Her words do more than just confirm Lucerys’s claim—they solidify Rhaenyra’s position in this fight. The offer to wed Rhaena to Lucerys would ensure that Driftmark remains in Velaryon hands, through Laena’s trueborn daughter. It’s a maneuver as brilliant as it is decisive. Rhaenys has thrown her support behind Rhaenyra in a way that cannot be easily countered.

You pause, considering the ramifications. Your eyes briefly meet Rhaenyra’s, searching for some sign of what she’s truly feeling beneath her stoic mask. She knows the significance of Rhaenys’s declaration; it’s more than just the inheritance of Driftmark—it’s a public alignment of houses, a strengthening of her line.

Just as you’re about to speak, Vaemond’s voice rises again, sharper now, with barely concealed fury. “This is an insult! A mockery of our house! You may support these... false heirs, but I will not allow Driftmark to be handed over to bastards!”

The word hangs in the air, searing through the room like a brand. A cold silence falls, eyes darting between you and Vaemond. Even Otto’s composed mask slips slightly, his eyes narrowing at the brazenness of Vaemond’s outburst. You feel a ripple of anger stir within you, a flame that you must keep controlled, for it would be too easy to let it consume you here.

Daemon steps forward, his smile a dangerous thing as he drawls, “Say it again, Vaemond. Go on.” His hand rests casually on the hilt of his blade, the invitation clear.

You rise from your seat, your gaze locking onto Vaemond with the weight of a dragon’s stare. The silence that follows is heavy, the tension crackling like lightning in the air. The audacity of his words echoes through the chamber—bastards. A line has been crossed, and everyone knows it.

“Enough,” you command, your voice low but resonant, silencing the whispers that had begun to stir among the lords and ladies. “You forget yourself, Lord Vaemond.”

Vaemond’s face twists with fury, but he stands defiant, unwilling to yield. “Your Grace, I only speak the truth that everyone here knows but dares not voice! Driftmark is the seat of House Velaryon, a house built on blood and salt. That blood should flow true, and Lucerys Velaryon carries none of it! The realm cannot be governed by lies and pretenses.”

You take a step forward, your presence a shadow over the defiant lord. “You speak of truth, but your truth is tainted by ambition and grievance. Driftmark’s future is a matter for Lord Corlys’s bloodline, and it has been decided by the one who holds that legacy. Princess Rhaenys has spoken clearly on her husband’s wishes and on the betrothal that will secure Driftmark’s future.”

Rhaenys’s head lifts, her expression one of quiet strength. It is a rare thing for the ‘Queen Who Never Was’ to publicly choose a side so explicitly, and in doing so, she has thrown the full weight of House Velaryon behind Rhaenyra and her children.

But Vaemond is not done. His eyes blaze with a dangerous mix of pride and desperation. “And you would have us swallow this pretense, this farce? I will not see my house’s name sullied for the sake of politics!”

Rhaenyra’s expression is a careful mask, but you know her well enough to see the tension coiled beneath the surface. Her sons stand rigid, their youth apparent in how they strain to keep composed, particularly Lucerys, whose gaze keeps darting toward you as if searching for some semblance of reassurance. You can feel Alicent’s eyes on you as well, a silent plea for this matter to end without bloodshed.

You straighten, feeling the weight of the crown’s authority settle around your shoulders. “This is not about what you will or will not see, Lord Vaemond. The decision is not yours to make.” You look to the gathered lords and ladies, letting your words carry across the room. “House Velaryon’s seat belongs to Lucerys Velaryon, named by Lord Corlys and affirmed by his lady wife. This court upholds that decision.”

There’s a murmur of agreement among some of the gathered lords, though others shift uncomfortably, clearly aligning themselves more with Vaemond’s view, whether they dare voice it or not. Vaemond’s defiance hardens into something bitter, his eyes flicking briefly toward Daemon, who remains a silent sentinel, the edge of his smile dangerous.

“Lucerys Velaryon is not a true Velaryon,” Vaemond growls, his voice rising with barely-contained rage. “He is—”

“Say it,” Daemon’s voice slices through the air like a dagger, his smile cold, daring Vaemond to cross that final line for the last time.

For a moment, it looks as if Vaemond might take the bait, the word trembling on his lips, but the air is thick with unspoken threats. You can see the flicker of fear in his eyes, a recognition that his next words could cost him more than just this claim. He hesitates, but the anger does not fade.

“The truth is plain,” Vaemond finally says, quieter now but no less venomous. “You can wrap it in silks and gold, but it remains a lie.”

Your patience wears thin. “Your passion is noted, Lord Vaemond, but you would do well to remember where you stand and who you address.” You glance at Rhaenyra, who remains poised despite the insults cast her way, then back at Vaemond. “This court has rendered its judgment. The matter is settled.”

The finality in your tone leaves no room for further argument. Vaemond clenches his jaw, his fists trembling at his sides, but he knows he’s lost. His pride is wounded, and though he has supporters among the court, none will openly defy the crown’s decision. He gives you a look filled with loathing, and for a heartbeat, you think he might lash out.

Before anything can escalate, Alicent steps forward, her presence bringing a calming effect, if only briefly. “This matter is closed,” she says with cool authority, echoing your decree. “The realm must look forward, not cling to the past.”

You nod, turning your attention back to the court. “The feast tonight will be held in honor of family and unity. I expect all to attend.” You emphasize the word family, knowing it holds different meanings for those gathered. Your gaze lingers on Rhaenyra and her children, then back to Vaemond, whose seething gaze is impossible to ignore.

Vaemond’s face is twisted with barely-restrained fury, but he bows stiffly. “As you command, Your Grace.”

The lords and ladies begin to disperse, the unrest easing as conversations shift to safer topics. But the undercurrents of unease remain. Alliances have been made clearer, but new fissures have formed as well.

As the court disperses, you catch Rhaenyra’s gaze. There’s a gratitude there, mingled with sadness, a recognition of the unspoken rift that still lies between you. “Thank you, brother,” she says softly when she approaches, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and weariness.

You nod, offering a small, strained smile. “For now, let us put aside the politics and remember that we are family.”

Rhaenyra inclines her head, and though the words are spoken with good intent, there’s a heaviness that neither of you can ignore. The politics of blood, inheritance, and loyalty remain like shadows between you.

As Rhaenyra and Daemon leave the throne room with their children, you feel Alicent’s hand lightly rest on your arm. “You did well,” she says softly, her gaze searching yours for any trace of what you’re truly feeling.

You give a faint nod, but the weariness of the day weighs heavily on your mind. “Perhaps. But this is only the beginning. There are storms yet to come.”

Alicent’s eyes flicker with concern, but she remains composed. “Then we will face them together, as we always have.”

With that, you steel yourself for the next gathering—the feast, where smiles will hide sharpened knives and toasts will be laced with hidden meanings.

The Great Hall is aglow with the warmth of countless candles, their light reflecting off the polished silver goblets and rich tapestries lining the walls. The air is thick with the aromas of roasted meats, spiced wine, and the subtle sweetness of honeyed fruits. At the head of the table, King Viserys sits, smiling broadly, the years of weariness lifted, if only for tonight. His eyes, though dulled by age and illness, sparkle with the joy of seeing his family gathered together—just as he has always dreamed.

You sit to his right, with Alicent beside you, her presence a quiet, steadying force. Your children—Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, and Daeron—are arranged around you, each reflecting the shared Targaryen and Hightower legacies. Across the table, Rhaenyra sits with Daemon, their children—Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Baela, and Rhaena—filling the seats beside them. For once, the invisible line that has divided you all seems to blur, softened by the promise of reconciliation that hangs in the air.

Viserys raises his goblet, his voice trembling but rich with emotion. “To family,” he declares, looking first at you, then at Rhaenyra, his gaze lingering with unspoken hope. “We have all weathered many storms, but tonight, let us put aside our differences and remember the ties that bind us. Blood is what unites us, and that is stronger than any quarrel.”

You lift your goblet, meeting Rhaenyra’s gaze from across the table. There’s a flicker of warmth in her eyes, a reflection of the shared memories from when you were younger—before ambition and politics built walls between you. “To family,” you echo, letting your voice carry across the hall.

“To family,” Rhaenyra agrees, her voice softer, but sincere. The tension that usually clings to her words is absent, replaced by a genuine desire to find common ground. Daemon follows suit with a small nod, raising his goblet, though his eyes never lose their sharpness.

The others join in the toast, and for the first time in a long while, there’s a shared sense of unity at the table. The feast begins, and conversation flows more easily than you had expected. Laughter echoes, and even some of the past hurts seem to fade as old stories are shared, tales from when you and Rhaenyra were children, and the world was simpler.

Aegon, emboldened by the good cheer, leans toward Jacaerys with a grin. “So, cousin, when do we finally see if your swordplay has improved? Or are you still hiding behind the idea of ‘diplomacy’?” There’s a teasing lilt to his words, but it’s free of malice.

Jacaerys chuckles, accepting the challenge with grace. “Any time you wish, Aegon. Perhaps tomorrow, in the yard? I could use the exercise.”

Aegon laughs, and for once, it’s genuine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Nearby, Helaena leans close to Rhaena, showing her a small, delicate beetle she’s been keeping. “This one’s new. I found it in the gardens this morning. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

Rhaena’s face lights up with interest. “It is! You’ll have to show me where you find them. Perhaps we can look together tomorrow?”

Aemond, ever observant, listens as Daemon regales Daeron with stories of old Valyria, his tone as dramatic as ever. “You mustn’t rely only on strength, young prince,” Daemon advises with a sly smile. “There’s more power in a sharp mind than a sharp blade, though it’s best to wield both.”

As the night progresses, the atmosphere becomes lighter, laughter filling the hall. You notice Rhaenyra watching you, and when your eyes meet, she offers a tentative smile. There’s a pause, a moment where neither of you speaks, but the silence is full of unspoken words—regret, apology, and perhaps most importantly, a desire to heal what’s been broken.

“Brother,” she finally says, her voice tinged with emotion. “I’ve missed this—us, being together. I know there have been… difficulties, but I hope we can start anew.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the sincerity in her words. The distance between you hasn’t been easy, and the weight of your past grievances still lingers, but you find yourself nodding. “I’ve missed it too, Rhaenyra. We’ve both made mistakes, but we’re stronger together. Let’s try to move forward—for our family, for our father.”

Viserys beams at this exchange, his hand trembling as he lifts it to wipe away a tear. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. For all of us to be united, to leave behind the bitterness of the past.”

Alicent watches this with a soft smile, her hand slipping into yours beneath the table. “This is what he’s longed for,” she whispers. “You’ve given him peace, if only for tonight.”

As the meal continues, the tension that once plagued these gatherings begins to dissipate. Rhaenyra and Alicent exchange kind words, complimenting each other’s children. Daemon, though still carrying his usual edge, seems content to keep his barbs light, focusing more on keeping the mood lifted than on stirring the pot. Even Aemond, usually so guarded, appears more at ease, his exchanges with Jacaerys and Lucerys devoid of the usual undercurrents of rivalry.

At one point, Rhaenyra lifts her goblet again, a more private toast this time. “To new beginnings,” she says, looking at you with hope.

You smile, raising your own goblet in kind. “To new beginnings.”

The night stretches on, and for once, it feels as though the past might truly be put behind you. The bonds of family, strained though they’ve been, begin to mend. The ghosts of old wounds fade into the background as laughter, warmth, and shared memories take center stage.

Viserys, exhausted but happy, leans back in his chair, his hand resting on yours as he closes his eyes, a contented smile on his lips. “This… this is how it should always be,” he murmurs.

And for that night, at least, it is. Family, love, and unity win out, and the weight of the crown feels a little lighter.

From the Chronicles of King Y/N Targaryen I, The Reign of the Unified Flame

From “Fire and Blood: A History of House Targaryen�� by Archmaester Melys:

Upon the passing of King Viserys I in the year 129 AC, the realm held its breath, fearing that the simmering tensions within House Targaryen would ignite into the civil war prophesied by many. But where the histories might have diverged into bloodshed and ruin, they instead tell a tale of unity and wise rule under King Y/N Targaryen, the Heir of Dragonstone, who ascended the Iron Throne as Y/N I, known to later generations as “Y/N the Peacemaker” and “The King of Balance.”

Though many lords whispered of conflict, it was King Y/N’s first decree that set the tone for his reign. Gathering his family—Queen Alicent, Princess Rhaenyra, and their respective children—he held council not in the Red Keep, but atop Dragonstone, the ancient seat of House Targaryen. There, in the shadow of their ancestors and the elder dragons, they swore an oath of unity before gods and men. It is said that Prince Daemon himself, ever the rogue, was the first to lay down his blade, pledging his loyalty to his nephew. With that, the seeds of war were quelled, and the Dance of Dragons was averted.

High Speton Eustace credits King Y/N’s wisdom and firm hand for this peace, stating, “His Majesty’s reign was marked by clarity of vision and an understanding that compromise is often the sharpest weapon.” Mushroom, in his typically bawdy accounts, attributes the peace to the deep affection between the King and Queen Alicent, jesting that, “It was her gentle whispers at night and not the threats of swords that kept the realm from tearing itself apart.”

Under King Y/N’s rule, Westeros saw another golden era of peace and prosperity. His approach to governance combined the fiery decisiveness of his Targaryen blood with a measured balance that many compared to his mother, Queen Aemma Arryn. The king’s court was diverse and inclusive; Princess Rhaenyra was granted full authority over the small council alongside her brother, with the Velaryons remaining staunch allies after the successful betrothal of Lucerys Velaryon to Rhaena Targaryen. Driftmark’s legacy was secured without further bloodshed, ensuring that the sea lanes of Westeros remained open and secure.

King Y/N’s family played a crucial role in his reign. His children with Queen Alicent grew into respected figures in their own right. Aegon, though restless in his youth, became a trusted commander, leading the royal navy in expeditions to Essos that solidified trade routes. Aemond, despite the loss of his eye, was known as “The Iron Shield,” a prince famed for his discipline and loyalty, who often served as Hand of the King when his father took to Dragonstone for respite. Helaena’s prophecies, often dismissed in earlier years, became valued by the court, guiding many decisions with a wisdom that bordered on the mystical. Daeron, the youngest, was known as the people’s prince, a bridge between nobility and common folk, fostering goodwill in the Reach and beyond.

The reign of King Y/N I was not without its trials. The Ironborn rose in rebellion more than once, but swift action by Aemond and Daemon in a rare alliance quickly subdued the threat. The Riverlands also saw unrest when Lord Grover Tully’s ambitions threatened to spill into open conflict, but the King’s deft diplomacy resolved the dispute before it could escalate.

Even so, the unity within House Targaryen remained the cornerstone of Y/N’s reign. It is said that Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent, once rivals after their marriages, grew back into a friendship they shared in their youth, sharing their roles as matriarchs to an ever-growing brood of dragonlords. Mushroom—never one to miss an opportunity for scandal—claims that their peace was ensured by shared interests in a secretive cabal of noblewomen, but wiser heads discount this as the jester’s usual mischief.

King Y/N’s dragons also played a vital role in securing his legacy. His bond with Dallax, the Night Fury, became legendary. Dallax, with his black scales and green eyes, was a fearsome sight in battle, but it was his presence at royal negotiations that often quelled rebellious lords before blood could be spilled. The dragon’s reputation as both guardian and enforcer of the realm added to the mystique of King Y/N’s rule.

In 143 AC, King Y/N I presided over the Grand Council at Harrenhal, where matters of succession and law were codified, ensuring stability for generations to come. It was there that his wisdom was most evident; by balancing the interests of all regions and houses, he secured peace in the realm without resorting to brute force. When the Maester's Conclave reviewed the royal lineage in later years, it was agreed by many that King Y/N’s efforts had preserved not just the peace but the very legacy of House Targaryen.

Mushroom’s final words on the reign of King Y/N are perhaps the most fitting. “In an age where dragons danced upon the edge of war, it took not just a dragonrider, but a man who saw the value in holding back the flame, to keep the realm whole. Where others would have chosen fire and blood, he chose balance, and in doing so, left behind a reign that many would envy.”

King Y/N Targaryen I passed away in the year 150 AC, leaving behind a legacy of unity, prosperity, and a realm spared the horrors of civil war. His children carried forth his wisdom, and under their guidance, Westeros thrived in an era known as the “Second Golden Age.” And thus, the realm’s history turned, not on a dance of dragons, but on a single king’s steadfast resolve to keep his family—and his realm—united.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x male reader #hotd reader insert #hotd x reader #hotd alicent #alicent x y/n #alicent x you #alicent x reader #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #daemon targaryen

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oofthwoods · 9 months ago

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CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own.

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

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birdmeh · 2 months ago

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.The Recluse.

Dick Grayson x Reader

Warnings: implied sexual content, one-night stands

Word Count: 1k+

Summary: Since the death of his parents, finding a true sense of home had become a struggle for Dick. The world felt large and lonely. Even with Bruce Wayne's support, nothing compared to the belonging he felt in the circus, where laughter and love thrived. He yearned for a home and the comfort and connection that came along with one; and he would go anywhere and do anything to obtain that feeling even if it was fleeting.

Even if that meant he ended up in the beds of others.

Dick Grayson found himself blinking against the soft morning light as he took a mental note of the small room around him. It was this cozy little thing adorned with numerous plants, books, and candles–radiating a faint smell of vanilla that clung to the air.

He sits himself up slightly and rubs at his tired heavy eyes, hoping to shake off the remnants of sleep and confusion. A thick gray duvet covers the lower half of his body keeping him warm and snug. He takes a slow glance to the right of him and immediately takes note of his own neatly folded clothing on an old oak nightstand. Besides it a framed photo: three smiling friends stared back at him, one looking extraordinarily familiar.

The image caused the gears in his mind to churn and memories to arise, but the details of where he was and whose home he was residing in remained just out of reach. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet colliding with a chilled hardwood floor, grounding him in this new yet inviting space.

He stood up, finally allowing himself to get a good look at the room. The walls were lined with shelves containing various trinkets, novels, and comic books. The dresser’s mirror was adorned with photos and contained a few personal items on its surface–candles, a jewelry box, a wallet, and keys. Still, none of the items seemed to draw his memory about the previous night.

He took a deep breath, remaining calm despite being completely unaware of where he was and what transcribed; Dick Grayson never feared the unknown. Plus waking up in the room of a woman he hardly knew was not an unlikely occurrence.

Grayson’s loneliness would catch up to him, and he would find himself slipping into the lives of those who allow him to do so, seeking solace in the warmth of their company. He allowed himself to settle into their spaces and be someone he was not. He allowed himself to bask in dim lights and hushed words. He allowed himself to love without fear in the arms of a stranger. And most importantly he would allow himself a moment to let the weight of the world and his past lift off his shoulders. In these quiet hours he remembers the caring nature of where he grew up–and to have a place that was truly his. Where there were no spandex suits, no masks, no wounds, and no responsibilities.

Beneath a stranger's sheets he was able to drift to sleep with the illusion of stability, even if it was only for a night.

Unfortunately, he would only end up awake and alone again, the room feeling foreign once more. Reality would settle in and with that the realization that he is nothing more than a shattered and desperate man. – Grayson readied himself, putting on his black slacks and wrinkled button-down shirt: not bothering to tuck it in or button it up. He grimaces at his disheveled reflection in the mirror and combs his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair while trying not to acknowledge the deep dark circles under his eyes.

Now marks the time in his morning routine where he would make his silent exit and carry on with his daily vigilante duties. A painfully bittersweet routine.

He makes pace towards the closed bedroom door, hand lingering on the knob. There was a slight ruckus coming from the other side, a shuffling of feet, clinking of dishes, and the faint sound of running water. Someone was still on the other side of the door and Dick didn’t know how to feel about that-he never got used to the ones that stayed put.

When he finally steps out, he spots you, the woman he spent the night with, and allows himself a moment to take you in. You’re clad in nothing but an old, worn graphic tee cut at the shoulder exposing your abused and bruised neck, and a pair of black pajama shorts. His eyes linger on your neck longer than necessary. Your eyes however are still clouded with sleep as you sluggishly move towards an older-looking coffee maker, completely unaware of his presence.

Music is playing quietly on your phone, and he knows it was a conscious choice so you wouldn't wake him and he finds it beyond endearing.

It takes a minute or so for Dick to make himself known, establishing his presence with a solid “Good morning.”

Despite being initially startled by the sudden noise you turn to greet him with a sheepish and tired smile and return the greeting–voice thick with sleep. Dick swears he feels butterflies beating their wings against the walls of his stomach. Even though he did not want to overstay his welcome he makes the cautious choice to make his way towards the island in the center of the kitchen, leaning against the countertop and continuing to take you in, eyes traveling from your sock-clad feet up to your tousled hair.

“How did you sleep?” you ask pulling two mugs from the cabinet and placing them on the counter he resided on an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Dick, this made him giddy.

“Like a baby,” he mused.

“I’m glad.”

The two of you fell into a timid silence, a rare occurrence for a flirt like Dick.

Once the coffee is done you pour it into the two mugs making a cautious effort to not spill it on the counter. The hot black liquid then produces this thick steam that carries into the air and assaults the nose of the black-haired man.

“Do you take your coffee with milk or sugar?”

“Black is fine.”

You nod and proceed to put two slices of bread into the toaster, wishing you could offer him more but unfortunately, you were not much of a cook.

Something about the scene felt painfully domestic to Dick.

The comfortable silence.

The smell of the now burning toast.

The beautiful woman before him scrambling around the kitchen doing everything she could to make his morning comfortable.

He didn’t even have the heart to tell her that he doesn’t drink coffee.

For the first time in a long time, Dick Grayson felt at home.

#dc comics #dick grayson #dcu #richard grayson #nightwing #nightwing/reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson/reader #richard grayson x reader #batman #dc universe #x reader #reader insert #one night stand

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pickingupmymercedes · 5 months ago

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An impossible dream - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hey!you are so good in writing angst and I feel there's a lack of angst with lh and sometimes i just want a heavy heart 🫣 but i was listening to beyonce and her song best thing i never had made me wish to read something like that with lewis"

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty, Lewis being kind of a jerk (but not really)

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Sorry it took this long anon, but I hope it gives you all the feels, because it did for me.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The opulence of the Monaco in a Grand Prix weekend shimmered around as the warm glow of the setting sun bathed the city in its usual golden hue. Y/n and her husband cruised through the narrow, winding streets in his collection worthy of a car. The engine purred smoothly, a low, contrasting hum to the noise of her own mind as they made their way to a party very few could ever get close to.

Her husband reached over and took her hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. "You've been quiet" he said, glancing at her with concern. "Are you okay?"

She turned to him, managing a small smile. "Just nervous to be back in Monaco," she replied, barely above a whisper before she continued "I have a lot of past history in these streets" she admitted, her voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and pain.

He nodded, understanding deepening in his eyes. "Is it because of your ex?" She hesitated for a moment before nodding and he squeezed her hand, a silent show of affection.

"I've seen how it affects you, still" he replied softly. "I'm happy to wait until you're comfortable to talk about it."

"Thank you for never pushing" she said, her gratitude genuine.

He smiled, bringing her hand to his lips for a tender kiss. "You’re really the best thing that’s ever happened to me" he said, his voice filled with love.

She saw him before he saw her, the man whose name once caused her heart to race faster than his car on the track and she instinctively tightened her grip on her husband's arm.

He noticed the man beside her, and then his gaze dropped to her left hand, where the large diamond ring sparkled under the golden lights. His expression turned unreadable, a myriad of emotions: shock, recognition, questioning, and even a composed understanding.

As the night wore on, and her husband was eventually pulled into conversations with some business magnates, she was left momentarily alone, drifting towards the balcony, seeking solace in the night breeze and the endless horizon of the sea. The memories of past sunrises in this very place, leaving a bittersweet and relentless feeling.

"Y/n." His voice was a soft murmur behind her, as gentle as the evening wind. She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself before turning to face him.

"Lewis," she acknowledged, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

"Do you even remember those sunrises?" He took a step closer, the faint scent of his cologne bringing back a rush of memories.

She looked away, back towards the dark waters. "Please, don't." she whispered; her voice almost lost in the breeze.

"What's happened, Y/n? Why did you disappear?" His tone was soft, but insistent.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside her. "Some people need to grow up and stop chasing impossible dreams" she said, her voice more composed than she felt.

"Is that what you think we were? An impossible dream?" His eyes boring into hers, searching for the truth.

She met his gaze, her eyes betraying the pain she had buried. "I couldn't keep pretending, Lewis. Being a satellite to you, yet always on the outside... It was killing me. I needed stability, something real."

"Is that what you have now?" He nodded towards the crowd inside. "With him?"

"He makes me feel safe" she replied, her voice firm.

He looked at her, his expression a mix of sadness and frustration. "Are you happy, Y/n? Truly happy?"

Her heart ached at his words, but she forced herself to keep her composure "Happiness wasn’t a luxury I could quite afford. Not anymore."

He shook his head, stepping closer until there was little to no space between them, his perfume making her dizzy. "You deserve more than just safety. You deserve to be loved, completely and unconditionally."

"And you think you could have given me that?" A tear threatening to slip down her cheek, the tinge of anger to her voice just as she quickly looked up and closed her eyes.

"I know I could have" he said softly, his voice filled with conviction. "I loved you, Y/n. I still do."

She looked back at him, the weight of his gaze and words pressing down on her made her laugh. "Gosh, I wanted you so bad... But, it's too late now, Lewis."

"Don't you ever wonder what could have been?" He asked, his voice teasingly sweet.

"I used to. I’m through with that, though." she admitted, her voice trembling. "He is my life now."

He reached out, taking her hands in his just as she turned to look at him again. "You don't have to settle for safety, Y/n. Not when you could have so much more. It's never too late, you know?!"

"I'm pregnant." She blurred out; her voice steady but not above a whisper.

Lewis froze, his eyes dropping to her belly. He blinked, processing her words.

"It's still early days." Her hand instinctively going to her still-flat stomach as she felt the need to explain herself, even after all this time.

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. "I just... Make sure your happy, okay?! This kid needs you at your best."

"I know" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as he turned from her and she understood the cue.

As she rejoined her husband, she felt as if a piece of her heart had been left behind in the shadows of that balcony.

Her husband’s eyes lit up. Relief and affection evident in his expression as his arms encircled her. He kissed her head tenderly from the side, his lips brushing her hair. "Are you both alright?" he asked softly.

She nodded, forcing a smile as she looked up at him. "Yeah, someone's perfume made me nauseous, just needed a little breather."

Her husband smiled warmly, and she leaned into his embrace, seeking comfort in the familiarity and security he offered.

As they stood together, surrounded by the opulence of the setting, she couldn't help but glance back at the balcony, where Lewis remained, a solitary figure against the backdrop of their shared memories, his eyes still locked on her as they would always be, as long as they kept bumping into each other.

______________________________________________________________

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jaquemuses · 10 months ago

Note

i’m an angst comfort GIRL so if you would be interested in writing anything maybe about childhood friends enzo and reader where it’s right people wrong time for years ( definitely mutual feelings, maybe reader always thought enzo was too good for them so they never really thought they had a chance but is oblivious to the fact that enzo was head over HEELS for them but was worried about dragging them into the spotlight as he grew more famous) until they finally end up together i’d be thrilled!! ofc no matter what thank you so much!! have a great day/night!!❤️❤️

GIRL ME TOO !!! so glad you requested it, i wrote this, hope u enjoy it ♡♡

Starry night | Enzo Vogrincic

Synopsis: Sharing feelings has always been challenging, but under the starry sky, sitting right beside his childhood friend on the eve of his movie premiere party, Enzo confesses a love that has lingered his heart since he was seven.

Word count: 1.5k

Content: Enzo Vogrincic/Reader, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluffy overall, no explicit content, focus on emotions, and strong affection for Enzo, references to ghibli's movies.

a/n: hi there !! i hope you guy enjoy this i pulled an all nighter just to write it lmaooo so bear with me if there's any typos or such; english isn't my first language, but I hope it's a good read!

- xoxo Kara ♡

Time slips away so quickly.

Beneath the starry sky, the weight of its passing moments engulfs you like a fuzzy tidal wave, heavy and suffocating. Sinking beneath its weight has become your routine.

A soft, resigned sigh escapes your lips, the midnight air crisp on your tongue, turning into vapor in the summer night. Beyond your sight, stars burn in tandem, the cosmos vast and immersive. The moon, tonight, is a big blob of reflected sunlight, smiling tenderly, casting a soothing glow like a mother's voice.

In the familiarity of the sight, there's comfort. The moon, always there, in crescents or hidden by clouds, a constant in a changing world. What a peculiar and lovely thing it is to be under the celestial dance, where even the moon, with its timeless presence, seems to join the ever-moving cosmic ballet.

As you lay on the rooftop, the distant melody of music from the house below reaches your ears. It's a reminder of shared laughter, playful banter, and the bond you once had with Enzo. The thought of losing him, not just as a childhood friend but as this life partner makes you wanna cry right there.

Another second lost, as you gaze into the nothingness of space. Time keeps passing you by, never stopping —seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into months. that incessant moving of the hands of the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. over and over again.

and, really, it's a little bit scary. you think you might be terrified of time. you're so afraid, afraid of being left behind, afraid that the world will turn its back on you and then walk away. afraid that everyone and everything will change shape before you know it

The music serves as a soundtrack to your memories, a bittersweet symphony echoing through the night. Enzo, your companion through the years, feels like he's slipping away, and the weight of that potential loss is heavy against the backdrop of the starlit sky.

But even in this always-changing, turbulent mess of a life

one thing remains the same;

"Ah, there you are," Enzo's voice, honeyed and familiar, breaks the silence. A small smile graces your lips at the sight of him.

That voice...

honeyed and smooth, but still rough around the edges, just a little husky. Deep and familiar, etched into your brain; even if you were to forget everything else, you're sure you'd still remember it. That familiar voice. It sounds like moonlit nights, and sunkissed kitchens.

it sounds like coming home.

A turn of your head. it's a subconscious reaction, as natural as the beating of your own heart, memorized down to the very marrow of your bones — muscle memory, to seek him out after hearing the low timbre of his voice. You do it as if it's the only thing worth hearing.

And Enzo is smiling, when your eyes meet his. That gentle upward tug of his lips, small yet sincere. The one that always puts your mind at ease.

"How'd you know I'd be up here?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Lucky guess," Enzo replies, his grin revealing the comfort of shared moments.

Of course, he knew. Tracking you down was his thing, always has been. Like that time when he found you concealed under a table at your twelfth birthday party or the time he discovered you teary-eyed in the woods during your school field trip.

Finding you always comes easy to Enzo. Almost like he's always seeking you out, subconsciously or otherwise, always paying attention to your movements. You go south, and he follows, you go north, and he's already waiting up ahead.

"Damn, how'd you know?" you playfully pout, looking into him.

"I always know, silly" Enzo confesses softly, his eyes holding a warmth that speaks volumes. "I've known you since we were seven"

A gentle inhale passes between you as the silence settles, the moon casting its glow on your shared history.

"I thought you might be too busy with, you know, the whole famous actor thing," you admit trying to make it a joke but insecurity creeps into your words. "Congratulations on that, i always knew you'd make it"

The whole party underneath you both was for Enzo, you felt kind of stupid for leaving so suddenly, after all tonight's was Enzo's night. But before he realized it, you had slipped away, seizing the chance as soon as others grew too drowsy to take notice.

But he always notices you.

And he's worried. just a bit, is what he tells himself but truthfully it's more than that.

You look small, enzo thinks, curled up with your knees to your chest. Sitting all alone up on the roof of his home, a place you'd always go to on nights when you couldn't sleep. Together, sharing whispered secrets and hushed laughter until the sun began to rise again. Back then, it felt like the two of you were the only ones awake in the whole world.

(the safest world he's ever known.)

The distance between you grows narrower, as enzo makes his way over to you - and it always does, at the end of the day. No matter how much time you spend apart, that uncomfortable distance always, always ends up broached. One of you always moves closer. As if it's unavoidable, two planets spinning around each other's orbit.

Enzo sits down right next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. his knee bumps against the side of your shoe, and his shoulder grazes yours. It's natural, as natural as the glow of the moon, this closeness between you. It reminds you of the gentle lapping of the ocean waves of Punta del este at your bare ankles; on mellow summer days when you were 10 and went to a trip with your parents and Enzo's, comforting and familiar. A warmth that never goes away.

The moon bathes the rooftop in a gentle glow as Enzo chuckles in response to your teasing remark. "Busy? Yeah, it gets a bit crazy, but it's moments like these that remind me of what truly matters. And you know im never too busy for you." He shifts, a thoughtful expression on his face, as he gazes at the city below.

A brief inhale, and your heartbeat settles into a tender rhythm again. The scent that always lingers on Enzo's skin drifts throughout the air, mingling with your own — it can be hard to distinguish between the two, with how often you end up wearing each other's clothes, but you could never mistake it for anything else. Cedarwood and earl gray, with a hint of coconut-scented shampoo enveloping every single one of your senses, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

Leaning just a little closer to him, subconsciously, youet a fond exhale slip from your lips. Barely audible. And Enzo mimics it.

The silence between you is a comfortable one. Always has been. A little fickle, always shattered by one of you before long —usually you, though enzo isn't much better. But this time, he stays silent.

He's waiting. You know he is, because he always does.

He's waiting, waiting for you to break the silence first. Waiting for you to say something, tell him what's wrong, explain why you're up here instead of celebrating with the others. Waiting for you to explain why your eyes have looked so tired, this past week.

Enzo is nothing if not patient. So he waits, unbothered by the silence. Admiring the stars, and the flicker of their light. A vague worry simmers in his chest, however, and he can't stop himself from glancing down at you every now and then.

An insatiable yearning to soothe you gnaws at his heart

—but he can't, not unless you let him.

A sigh drops from your lips, suddenly. Deep and heavy, ike a rock thrown into the depths of a lake. The silence breaks.

"En...?"

The guy stays quiet, just humming inquisitively. He avoids eye contact, showing respect. He figures you'll spill what's on your mind more comfortably without him staring.

Your fingers lightly tap the rooftop tiles out of habit. You take in a bit of the midnight air—it's got that summer taste. "Remember how we first met?"

Enzo glances at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. He can't resist the urge to peek at your face, savoring your expression. Then, a chuckle escapes him. "Are you feeling sentimental?" he teases, a playful note in his voice, light and airy like seafoam. "Did you come out here just to reflect?"

The corners of his lips lift when he hears you huff, pulling your legs closer with a furrowed brow. Cheek pressed against your kneecap, you meet his gaze.

"Come on," you whine, pouting childishly, a trick you know will make him give in. "Just indulge me a little."

Enzo smiles, soft around the edges, radiating unmistakable fondness. He always indulges you. "Of course I do," he assures you.

The quiet settling between your words holds a tender understanding, a silent agreement.

"Of course, I remember. How could I forget? You broke into my backyard."

A sigh, weighty and pointed, escapes your lips. Enzo fights back a grin; his eyes dance with teasing mischief in the darkness as you shoot a glare his way.

"Okay, first of all," you begin, "I didn't break into anything. I climbed over the fence. Peacefully."

Enzo raises a brow. "That literally doesn't matter; it's still trespassing."

"I was seven years old!"

"Damn! Some of you criminals start young."

Another playful huff escapes you as you halfheartedly attempt to sound annoyed. Unsuccessful, you hide your growing smile by tucking your face into your knees. "Whatever."

Then your gaze shifts, drawn to the expanding starry sky, the vibrant flicker of the moon like a moth to a flame, helpless to its charms. It resembles a giant sponge cake, reminiscent of the ones you and Enzo used to make when that was the only recipe you knew – you'd eat from the batter, and he'd scold you. Then he'd do the same when your back was turned.

A smile graces your lips. In each star, a new memory unfolds, and the warm nostalgia surrounding you makes your heart feel exposed. "I just wanted to pet Ada" you reminisce, softly rememberig how little the cat was back then.

Enzo nods, his gaze directed at you, reveling in the expression on your face – tranquil and at ease, a bit more of yourself. Effortlessly lovely, bathed in moonlight. "Yeah, I remember."

He lets the memory carry him away for a moment or two, recalling the sight of you all those years ago, an unfamiliar child in his backyard. It was as if you had fallen from the sky – quiet and shy, yet with an excited glimmer in your eyes as you looked at his cat.

"You just pointed to her and expected me to understand," he continues, a grin blooming on his face, hopelessly endeared. "You were so shy back then."

A raise of your eyebrow. "Um? I'm still shy?"

Enzo gives you a look. He doesn't have to say anything – it's written all over his face. The classic Vogrincic look, the kind where you can tell he's itching to say, "Oh, really now?" The kind where he tries to appear judgmental but never quite manages to hide the amusement in his eyes.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, and Enzo smiles once more, utterly captivated by your joy.

"Then we watched movies at my place,"

You hum. "It was fun."

"Yeah," he agrees.

Another spell of silence descends, tender and incredibly precious. The air is cool but not enough to make you shiver – a mild summer night, gentle on your skin and light on your heart. A soft breeze tousles your hair, and in the distance, cicadas buzz – a familiar, unchanging sound.

(If only everything else could remain the same, too.)

"Do you remember what movie it was?"

A lazy smile graces Enzo's lips as he turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

"Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to make m–"

"I just wanna reminisce."

Enzo pauses, observing your gaze as it wanders across the landscape, from the moon to the distant city lights. Absentmindedly fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie, you seem a bit lost, your eyes forgotten within the depths of the endless night sky.

No more teasing, he decides, choosing a more delicate approach. He answers your question softly, as if each octave of his voice could potentially cause you harm. "Whisper of the Heart," he reveals.

A little nod follows your hum of agreement. "Thats a top-tier one."

Enzo shifts his gaze away, muttering something under his breath. Still audible, though. "Spirited Away takes the cake..."

Catching a glimpse of your unimpressed look, he suppresses a soft laugh. His teeth graze his lip gently, just enough to avoid any sting.

"You're so basic," you playfully grin.

"You just want to feel special," Enzo retorts, quick on the uptake. "And you only like it because of Seji."

"You're only a Spirited Away fan because of Haku!"

Enzo closes his eyes, leans back a bit, crossing his arms in a somewhat childlike manner – a move aimed at drawing out laughter. "I don't know what you're talking about," he pretends.

"Oh, come on," you scoff. "Do you really think I've forgotten your sudden "enlightenment"?"

"Hm? What's that?" Feigning confusion, Enzo puts a hand to his ear, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "You'll have to come closer; I can't hear you from here."

Another unimpressed look accompanies your exhale, a mix of a scoff and a chuckle. "If I get any closer, I'll be in your lap, goofball."

Enzo bites his cheek gently, holding back the words that almost slip off his tongue.

(He wouldn't mind)

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" A playful nudge meets his shoulder as you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

The banter fades away as quickly as it came. Then, smiles break out across both your faces simultaneously, the atmosphere shifting into something more sincere. Doesn't it always when you're gazing at the starry sky with the one you love most?

As Enzo continues, his voice takes on that softer tone once again—the one thats only reserved for you. "I always liked imagining us as them," he confesses. "Me as Haku, and you as Chihiro."

A soft blink, and your smile sweetens like syrup. "...That's amusing," you cross your legs, palms flat against the roof, knee comfortably leaning against Enzo's. "I always thought of us as Seiji and Shizuku."

There's a distant look in your eyes, something Enzo can't look away from. Tentatively, his fingers press into the skin of his palms, and he speaks, absentminded and a bit uncertain. ".. they get married at the end, don't they?"

A pause, then your gaze locks onto Enzo's, suddenly mischievous – and he regrets opening his mouth.

"Oh?" you purr, almost beaming, closing the distance like a

predator sizing up its prey. "Oh, really? Is this a proposal, Mr. Vogrincic?"

"I'm just stating facts" he quips, hands raised in defense, hoping you won't notice the red tint creeping up his neck, hidden by the night.

"Incorrect facts," you grin. Whether you catch the blush or not, you don't mention it. "They get engaged, not married. Big difference."

Enzo huffs, small, trying to suppress a smile. The beat of his heart is faint, a gentle rhythm stirred by every move you make. He pushes back the words he longs to say. "I wouldn't mind that, either."

Once again, silence envelops you, weaving around the space between you. It's comforting, just being like this; you and your best friend under the moon's soft glow. As if you're the sole inhabitants of an otherwise vacant universe, free from space and time.

Like the night could pause and stretch on forever.

Yet, there's an unspoken question lingering. One Enzo is still waiting for you to answer. One you won't address until he does the same.

Both of you have noticed, even if no one else has – the turmoil in your eyes, the fatigue under his. Those subtle signs of stress as everything around you keeps twirling on, as the future approaches with every passing day.

"Remember how school felt like it would last forever, and now... it's all just a blur."

Enzo's eyes light up with nostalgia. "Yeah, the days when we believed we could conquer the world. Time goes by so quickly." He pauses, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "But hey, we had some pretty great adventures."

A soft laugh escapes you. "Adventures, mischief, and a fair share of detentions. I miss those days."

Enzo grins, "Our secret base, the pranks we pulled, and the dreams we shared. Life was simpler back then."

You sigh, "Simpler, but full of possibilities. Now everything feels like it's rushing by, and I can't keep up."

Enzo reaches for your hand, offering a comforting squeeze. "You're not alone in feeling that way. I miss the simplicity too, but some things haven't changed." He looks into your eyes, his gaze holding a depth of emotions.

"Yeah, your talent and that dream that's not a dream anymore En. Its now your reality, and I'm so proud of you, I'd always knew you'd make it" You said with a nostalgic smile on your face.

Deep down, you knew you'd end up losing him; he had everything to succeed in the industry.

Enzo meets your gaze, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart... It means a lot to hear that from you."

As Enzo utters the endearment "sweetheart," a fluttering sensation courses through your stomach, a delicate dance of butterflies that seems to synchronize with the newfound warmth in your chest. With a surge of emotions enveloping you, you can't help but wrap your arms around Enzo's body, hugging him tightly and feeling the size difference between the both of you. A murmured "of course" escapes your lips.

The moonlight paints a soft glow around you both, and the distant sounds of the party create a gentle background melody. Enzo takes a moment after the hug, collecting his thoughts, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, You know?" He starts, catching your eye. "Oh look who's reflecting now" You say as you laugh softly. "What is it?"

"These moments, right here, remind me of the times when life was simpler, and we were just two kids dreaming under the same sky." He pauses, searching for the right words.

"You know, when we were younger, I used to take you to the cinema, to the lake, even on your 15th birthday... Each time, I wanted to tell you something important, but I never found the right moment. It's been on my mind, and I'm tired of postponing it."

Your heart quickens at his words, confusion mingling with anticipation. Enzo's expression shifts, becoming more serious yet tender.

"Do you remember those times? I was trying to say that..." He hesitates a little, his eyes looking straight into yours, noticing how every single star can fit on your gaze "I'm in love with you. From the days of our childhood adventures to now, you've always been the girl of my dreams. I wanted to share my success with you because you've been my constant, my anchor."

The weight of his confession hangs in the air, and your mind races to process the revelation. Enzo continues, "I know that recently the world sees me as this actor, but to you, I just want to be Enzo. The boy you've known since we were seven. I'm tired of hiding my feelings, and I didn't want to lose another moment without letting you know."

Silence stretches between you, the memories of your shared past intertwining with the present. You're caught between the familiarity of nostalgia and the unexpected confession, yet, suddenly, some things start to make sense.

Enzo's eyes search yours, vulnerable and earnest.

"En, wait... what do you mean? In love with me? Like, as a friend or...?" Your words trail off, searching for clarity.

Enzo takes a deep breath, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. You can feel him shaking. "No I mean, romantically in love with you. Since we were kids, I've tried to tell you, but I never found the right moment."

Your eyes widen, replaying moments in your mind. "Wait, are you saying all those times – the cinema, the lake, my 15th birthday – you wanted to confess your feelings?"

Enzo nods, a mix of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes. "Exactly. I kept hoping for the perfect moment, but life just kept moving too fast"

Your mind races, grappling with the revelation. Enzo continues, "What im trying to say is you've been the girl of my dreams since i can remember. I wanted to share my success with you, not just as an actor but as the person who's been my constant through it all."

Silence envelops the rooftop, the city of Montevideo below seemingly hushed in anticipation. Enzo looks at you, his expression a mosaic of hope and uncertainty.

After a moment of processing, you break into a soft laugh. "Enzo, this is... I... i just never saw this coming... oh my god"

With a warm smile, Enzo pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, embracing the familiarity of his presence. "Its okay if you dont feel the same... but I... I've just been carrying this for so long; it feels good to finally share it with you." He says with a sad tone.

As you're held in Enzo's embrace, the vulnerability of the moment encourages you to share your own feelings. "Enzo, no... Its not that, its just that I... I never thought you'd see me that way. I always felt like you were way too good for me, like I'd never be enough, so i always thought it'll be pointless to confess because you'll end up leaving me... And its just the thought of losing you as a friend and now knowing you've felt this way for so long, it's just overwhelming."

Enzo loosens the hug, gently holding your shoulders as he looks into your eyes. "You were always more than enough. I never wanted to risk our friendship, but holding back these feelings became harder as time went on. Our friendship means the world to me, and the fear of losing you kept me silent."

Tears glisten in your eyes as you continue, "I spent so many nights up here on this rooftop, wondering if I was just another friend among many for you. I never thought I could be the one you'd be in love with."

Enzo wipes away a tear with his thumb, a tender smile on his face. "You were never just another friend. You were the one who understood me, laughed with me, and stood by me through it all. And I've been in love with you since we were kids."

The weight of unspoken emotions finally laid bare, you share a bittersweet laugh. "Guess we were both too scared to ruin what we had."

Enzo nods, his hand now resting on your cheek. "Maybe, but holding back feels like a bigger risk now. I don't want to waste any more time, not when i don't know how much of it we have left"

As the moonlight bathes both of you, you take a deep breath and finally say, "Enzo, I've always been in love with you too."

A shared understanding and a newfound honesty linger in the air as Enzo leans in and his lips meets yours in a tender kiss, a culmination of years of unspoken emotions and shared moments. In that intimate exchange, the rooftop becomes a sanctuary for a new beginning, and just for that moment: time seems to stand still.

#enzo vogrincic x you #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fluff #enzo vogrincic blurb #friends to lovers #childhood friends

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hiitsm · 6 months ago

Text

Beneath the Surface: The Third Piece

Beneath the Surface is for 18+ only.

Angst & if you squint your eyes: Smut, is included in this Third Piece.

Note: a little bit earlier as expected. Work is heavy and I feel like tomorrow I'll be sleeping a lot 😅

Other parts of: Beneath the Surface: The Broken Heart Pieces

You find yourself in the bustling back of the restaurant, surrounded by the clatter of dishes and the rush of water as you diligently tackle the never-ending pile of plates. Despite the chaos, there's a sense of familiarity and comfort in the routine of it all. This small breakfast and lunch spot has been your second home for over three years now, a cozy haven where you've honed your skills as a waitress.

But lately, things have felt different.

Ever since that fateful day when you discovered the letter on your kitchen counter, everything has been tinged with a sense of unease. The possibility of encountering her hangs over you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over your once-beloved job.

You've made the difficult decision to retreat to the kitchen, away from the front-of-house hustle and bustle, in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the pain of potential encounters. It's a bittersweet compromise, trading the joy of serving customers for the safety of anonymity.

As you scrub at a stubborn stain on a plate, your thoughts drift to Alexia. You wonder if she'll ever walk through those doors again, if she'll ever reach out to you. A part of you longs for the chance to talk, to seek closure, to understand why she left without a word.

But another part of you recoils at the thought, wary of reopening old wounds and risking further heartache.

You've confided in a sympathetic colleague, asking them to alert you if Alexia ever stops by. It's a small comfort, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise tumultuous sea of emotions.

Yet, deep down, you know that even if she does come, you may not have the courage to face her. The pain is still too raw, the wounds too fresh.

In the midst of your internal turmoil, a sudden clatter shatters the silence, drawing your attention to the floor where a plate lies shattered, broken into jagged pieces.

You can't help but see a reflection of your own broken heart in those shards, scattered and fragmented, waiting to be carefully pieced back together.

As you crouch down to begin the painstaking task of gathering the shattered fragments, you're acutely aware of the parallel between the broken plate and the broken pieces of your heart.

There are still too many pieces scattered on the floor.

There are still too many pieces that you need to pick back up again.

There are still too many unresolved emotions that need to be addressed before you can muster the courage to speak to her again.

To see her again.

As you gaze at the shattered pieces on the floor, a wave of emotion washes over you, threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure.

The memories and pain of your broken heart bubble to the surface once more, tugging at the frayed edges of your resolve.

But you're determined not to let them consume you again, not now.

With a deep breath, you push aside the tumultuous thoughts and focus on the task at hand. The rhythmic clinking of dishes and the steady flow of water provide a comforting backdrop, offering a brief respite from the storm raging within.

As you stand there, lost in your thoughts, you're suddenly startled by a familiar voice breaking through the silence. It's Elena, your kind colleague, gently nudging you out of your reverie.

"Come on, rush hour is over now. We have 5 minutes for a quick cigarette," Elena says, her tone laced with concern.

Though you don't smoke, you find yourself following Elena outside, grateful for the distraction from your swirling emotions. As she lights up her cigarette and takes a drag, you let the cool air wash over you, trying to calm the storm raging within.

After a while, Elena speaks up again, her voice gentle yet hesitant. "She stopped by this morning," she confesses, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Your eyes widen at the unexpected revelation, your heart skipping a beat at the mention of her.

"Lo siento, it was very busy so I couldn’t come to you right away," Elena apologizes, her hand finding its way to your shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

You offer her a small, appreciative smile, though there's a tremor of emotion in your voice as you respond. "It's okay," you murmur softly, trying to mask the turmoil brewing within.

Elena continues, her hand finding its way to your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "She asked for you, and when I told her that you weren't here, she panicked and asked if you still work here."

"What did you say?" you ask quietly, your fingers fidgeting nervously.

"That you are working in the back now," Elena replies, her words causing a swirl of conflicting emotions to rise within you. "She looked relieved by the mention of you still working here."

Her words hit you like a wave, stirring up a maelstrom of conflicting emotions within you. Memories of Alexia flood your mind, her unwavering support and encouragement echoing in your ears.

You remember how she always admired your passion for your job, how she found joy in witnessing your dedication and determination. It was her unwavering belief in you that fueled your own confidence and drive.

"She didn’t leave right away. I think that she hoped to still get to see you, but after two hours she had to leave room for the people who had a reservation," Elena reveals softly, her words carrying a weight of understanding.

You absorb her words with a mixture of surprise and longing, the image of Alexia lingering in your mind like a ghost.

Two hours.

Two hours she spent waiting, perhaps hoping for a chance encounter, a fleeting moment of connection amidst the chaos of this busy restaurant.

You can't help but feel a pang of regret at the thought of her lingering presence, her silent plea for reconciliation hanging heavy in the air.

Despite the ache in your chest, you can't deny the flicker of hope that ignites within you at the realization that she still yearns for you, even in the wake of your fractured relationship.

But along with hope comes a wave of uncertainty, a gnawing fear that lingers at the edges of your consciousness.

Will you ever find the courage to face her again, to bridge the chasm that separates you?

As you stand there, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions swirling within, you can't help but wonder what lies ahead.

Will you continue to retreat into the safety of solitude, shielding yourself from the pain of potential encounters?

Or will you muster the strength to confront the ghosts of your past, to seek the closure and healing you so desperately crave?

You don’t have a moment to process all your thoughts and emotions as your 5-minute break comes to an end, and you re-enter the bustling restaurant. With a grateful smile, you thank Elena for her support and the valuable information she shared, before diving back into the rhythm of your work.

A little while later, you find yourself trudging back towards your apartment, the chilly winter rain adding to the somber mood that has enveloped you lately. All you long for is the comforting warmth of a long, hot shower and the soothing routine of cooking a home-cooked meal to momentarily escape the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

Finally reaching your apartment door, you step inside and flick on the lights, only to be met with silence and darkness. With a heavy sigh, you realize that your lights have once again decided to call it quits, adding another item to your ever-growing to-do list.

Undeterred by the lack of illumination, you navigate your way through the dimly lit apartment, shedding your coat and shoes with a sense of resignation. All you want now is a hot shower and a comforting meal to soothe your troubled mind.

However, fate seems to have other plans for you tonight. As you try to switch on the electric plate to cook some rice, you're met with yet another setback. No electricity. With a frustrated groan, you realize that your plans for a home-cooked meal may have to be postponed.

Deciding to prioritize a hot shower to wash away the stresses of the day, you make your way to the bathroom, shedding your clothes as you go. But to your dismay, the water remains stubbornly cold, refusing to provide the warmth and comfort you so desperately crave.

Despite the lack of electricity and hot water, you push through, forcing yourself to endure the chilly shower in an attempt to at least feel somewhat refreshed.

Afterward, feeling slightly defeated, you seek out your neighbor for any insight or assistance, but his response offers little comfort, leaving you feeling even more disheartened.

Returning to your apartment, you settle for a meager meal of crackers, the taste of frustration lingering on your tongue. But amidst the frustration and disappointment, a faint chuckle escapes your lips as you recall a similar situation from the past.

Alexia stormed into your apartment, looking utterly drenched from head to toe. The sight of her, soaked to the bone, took you by surprise. You had been cooking, the sound of the heavy rain outside barely registering as you assumed she was safely in her car.

"Did you walk all the way from the training ground?" you ask, bewildered by her appearance. Despite her obvious discomfort, Alexia bursts into laughter at your incredulous expression.

"Why would I walk for 30 minutes when I have a sponsored car, bebé?" she replies with a mischievous grin, shrugging off her oversized coat and kicking off her waterlogged shoes. Despite being drenched, there's an undeniable allure to her appearance, and you can't help but admire her.

As she stood before you, her clothes clinging to her frame in a way that you couldn't help but find appealing, a playful glint danced in her eyes.

"It's just that you don’t have any parking space here, so to me, it felt like a 30-minute trek if I'm being honest," she explained, her words accompanied by an exaggerated sigh as she dramatically approached you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her theatrics, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite your attempt to maintain a stern facade. "Don't be dramatic," you chided gently, pointing an accusing finger in her direction with the cooking spatula still in hand. "Put on a raincoat next time, or maybe bring an umbrella."

"Bring an umbrella, bebé? I thought you would've come to my car with an umbrella to pick me up and keep me dry," Alexia retorted, her grin growing even wider as she teased you.

With a mock-serious expression, you countered, "Do you want to sleep on the balcony?" but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

"You wouldn't dare do that to me. How else would you get any sleep?" Alexia shot back, her playful banter bringing a lightness to the air between you.

"Alright, let's drop this and finally give me a hello kiss," you playfully insisted, a warm smile gracing your lips as you met Alexia's eyes.

Without hesitation, Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, drawing you close as your arms found their way around her neck. With a gentle touch, your lips met in a soft, tender kiss, the world around you fading away in that moment of sweet connection.

As she pulled away, a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Hello, bebé," she greeted you cheekily.

You playfully pushed her away, a chuckle escaping your lips. "You should have a shower while I finish up dinner," you suggested, gesturing towards the bathroom.

A hint of disappointment flashed across Alexia's features as she pouted, "Are you not joining me?"

With a gentle smile, you planted a quick apology kiss on her cheek before gently pushing her towards the bathroom. "And let this dinner burn down the apartment? I don't think so, amor," you quipped, the warmth of your love filling the room as you continued to banter back and forth.

She finally gives in and heads off to have her shower while you busy yourself with finishing up dinner. The sound of running water from the shower fills the apartment, its rhythmic patter bringing a sense of calm to the air. You move about the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring pots, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the looming darkness.

But then, without warning, the electricity cuts out, plunging the apartment into darkness. All of your lights flicker off, leaving you standing in the dim glow of the candles you had just lit. You let out a frustrated sigh, hoping it's just a temporary glitch that will be resolved soon.

Quickly, you make your way around the apartment, lighting up candles in every room. Their soft, flickering light casts dancing shadows on the walls, creating a cozy ambiance that contrasts sharply with the earlier chaos.

As you finish lighting the last candle, you're startled by a sudden squeak and a squeal coming from the bathroom. Your heart skips a beat as you hurry towards the source of the noise, your mind racing with worry.

"¿Bebita, estás bien?" you inquire as you step into the bathroom with a rather big flashlight, which you put on the bathroom sink, concern etched across your features. "You're not playing a prank on me, are you?" you add, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Your girlfriend turns to look at you, her expression more annoyed than amused, in the midst of washing her hair.

Despite her irritated figure, you can't help but be distracted by the sight of her naked body, water droplets cascading down her gorgeous form.

Your eyes linger on her breasts, noticing the way her nipples stand erect against the chill of the water. You're tempted to reach out and play with them, but before you can, she grabs both of your wrists.

"No, bebita, my face is up here," she says, pulling your hands towards her cheeks and planting a playful smack on them. Despite her irritation, there's a hint of amusement in her eyes at your flustered reaction.

"Did you turn off the boiler to make my shower ice-cold? And where is the light?" she asks, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion.

"No, amor, I would never," you protest, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I know how much you love your hot showers."

"Then why is the water still freezing?" she questions, her grip on your wrist tightening slightly as she pointed with her head towards the tap.

"I think there might be an electricity and hot water failure in my apartment," you admit apologetically, your cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Well, that's just perfect," she grumbles, pouting slightly before her expression brightens with mischief.

"Looks like we'll have to find another way to warm up."

You watch in surprise as she tugs you into the cold shower with her, your clothes clinging to your skin as icy water cascades over you both.

"Alexia!" you exclaim, a mixture of shock and laughter in your voice as you brace yourself against the ice-cold water.

As the days passed, the recurring electricity and hot water failures in your apartment weighed heavily on your mind. Each morning, you woke up feeling drained and disheartened, the constant discomfort of cold showers and cold meals taking its toll on your well-being. Despite your best efforts to adapt to the situation, you couldn't shake the lingering sense of frustration and longing for something better.

Night after night, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find solace in sleep. You were feeling cold and the memories of your breakup with her still haunted your thoughts, replaying over and over like a broken record. With your friends away on holiday, you found yourself feeling more isolated than ever, longing for the comfort and support they usually provided.

In the midst of your turmoil, you couldn't help but think of Alexia's mother, Eli. She had always been a source of warmth and understanding, besides Alexia, her keen intuition often sensing when something was amiss. You remembered the countless times she had offered you a sympathetic ear and a comforting embrace, her unwavering support helping you navigate the challenges life threw your way.

This is why you found yourself trudging down the familiar path towards Eli's house, a small duffle bag slung over your shoulder. It was already 10 pm, and exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders, your weary steps echoing in the quiet night. You hoped fervently that Eli wasn't hosting one of her infamous family dinners tonight, where Alexia and Alba would undoubtedly be in attendance.

You were still in the midst of your self-imposed phase of avoiding Alexia, determined to keep your distance for a little while longer. The thought of facing her, of confronting the tangled web of emotions that still lingered between you, filled you with a sense of apprehension and unease.

As you finally reached Eli's doorstep, you paused for a moment to gather your thoughts, taking a deep breath in and then exhaling slowly. With a flicker of nervous anticipation, you reached out and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the quiet night air.

You hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching, and moments later, the front door swings open, revealing Eli standing there in her comfortable sweats. A bright smile lights up her face as she takes in your presence.

"Oh, hi, dear! I've missed you! Come in!" Her initial excitement quickly gives way to concern as she notices your tired demeanor. "Did you walk all the way? You could've called me," she frets, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive.

Her genuine concern washes over you like a soothing balm, easing the tension that had been building within you. With a grateful nod, you step into the warmth of her familiar home, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you. "Do you want some tea?" she offers, her voice filled with warmth and kindness.

You return her warm smile with one of your own, appreciating her thoughtfulness. "Yes, please," you reply softly, the weariness evident in your voice.

As you peel off your coat and shoes, you're grateful for Eli's unspoken understanding, knowing that she'll be there to lend a listening ear when you're ready to talk. For now, the simple act of being in her presence brings you a sense of solace and reassurance.

"Lo siento for coming here so late and unannounced," you confess softly, your voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. You sink into the plush cushions of the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you. "My apartment has been experiencing this electricity and hot water failure for a couple of days now, and I've reached my breaking point. I didn't know where else to go."

Eli's gentle smile reassures you as she enters the room, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of tea. "It's really no problem, dear. I'm glad you came to me," she says warmly, setting the tray down on the coffee table before taking a seat beside you.

"I know Alexia is away at that event, so it's good that you came here. You can sleep in the spare room and have a nice shower if you want."

Her words offer a lifeline of comfort in the midst of your turmoil, but beneath the surface, questions gnaw at your mind. You force yourself to push them aside, not wanting to burden Eli with your inner struggles. Instead, you focus on the warmth of her presence and the soothing aroma of the tea.

As you glance around the room, your gaze lands on the framed photos of you and Alexia displayed prominently on the walls. Despite the bittersweet memories they evoke, you can't help but feel a pang of confusion at the sight. Eli has always supported your relationship with Alexia, but seeing the photos still hanging up feels like a contradiction in the wake of your breakup.

Eli noticed your gaze drifting towards the framed photos adorning the walls of her cozy living room. "Oh, I need new ones, those are so old," she remarked casually, her tone tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

Her words caught you off guard, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. It was a simple comment, but it left you feeling unsettled and confused.

Did Alexia not talk to her mother about the breakup?

Why were the photos still displayed so prominently, as if frozen in time?

The pain of the breakup resurfaced with renewed intensity, threatening to overwhelm you. You blinked back tears, struggling to maintain your composure in the face of Eli's well-meaning words.

Despite the flood of emotions threatening to consume you, you forced a tight smile and nodded in response. "Yeah, maybe it's time for some new memories," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eli's gentle gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing her features as she reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay, dear?" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded again, though the gesture felt hollow, your heart heavy with the weight of unresolved emotions. "I'll be fine," you assured her, your voice trembling slightly.

"It must've been tough," Eli continued, her tone gentle yet resolute. "Alexia told me the two of you had a bit of a break. But not in a negative way, in a positive way. Sometimes we all need a small little break, right? To find each other again."

Her words echoed in your mind, stirring up a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty.

Had Alexia truly confided in her mother about the break, painting it in such a positive light?

Or was this just another layer of deception, another mask hiding the truth?

The question hung heavy in the air as you mustered the courage to voice your own concerns.

"Do you think she will talk to me any time soon?" you asked, the words tumbling out with a boldness that surprised even you.

Eli's response was measured, her expression thoughtful as she considered your question. "Qué quieres decir?" she replied, her voice tinged with confusion.

"Alexia told me that the two of you are doing more than fine and that therapy helped a while ago. You both had just been a bit busy, which is why I didn't get to see the two of you much."

The revelation hit you like a blow to the chest, leaving you reeling with a mixture of anger, betrayal, and a glimmer of hope.

How could Alexia lie to her own mother about what had transpired between you?

Did she truly believe that everything would magically fall back into place, that lying about therapy would somehow mend the chasm that had formed between you?

Your eyes welled up with tears, a tumultuous mix of emotions threatening to spill over. In that moment, you couldn't distinguish between the tangled mess of feelings swirling within you—sadness, anger, confusion, hope—all blending together into a single overwhelming wave of emotion.

Eli, ever perceptive, noticed your distress, her expression softening with empathy and concern. "Lo siento, no quise ponerte triste," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

Without hesitation, she pulled you into her comforting embrace, enveloping you in warmth and safety. In that moment, all the pent-up emotions that had been swirling inside you came pouring out, released in a torrent of tears and sobs.

As you calm down from the overwhelming flood of emotions, your head still resting on the comforting crook of Eli’s neck, you muster up the energy to speak. You feel a deep-seated need to unburden yourself, to share the weight of your feelings with someone you trust implicitly.

The urge to confide in Eli grows stronger with each passing moment.

After all, doesn't she deserve to know the truth?

What if she holds the key to helping her own daughter navigate through the complexities of her emotions?

Perhaps Eli possesses insights and wisdom that you couldn't offer Alexia, despite your best intentions.

Regrets and what-ifs swirl in your mind, each thought a testament to the depth of your emotions and the complexity of your situation. You can't help but wonder if things might have turned out differently if you had only reached out to Eli sooner, if you had allowed her to be a part of your journey from the start.

Before you could second-guess yourself, the words spilled out in a quiet whisper and between sobs.

"She needed space.’’

''I didn't know.''

''I don't understand.''

‘’She left me.’’

‘’She left me and told me through a letter’’.

‘’She left me with a letter."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your emotions, yet strangely liberating at the same time.

With each word spoken, it felt as though you were delicately piecing together one of the many shattered fragments of your broken heart.

Holding that small piece closely, you made a silent vow to yourself to safeguard it, ensuring it wouldn't slip from your grasp again.

It was a tender moment of reclaiming your truth, a step towards healing and self-discovery in the midst of emotional turmoil.

Note: as we dive deeper into the story, I'm considering switching up the perspective for the next piece. Should I continue with Reader's perspective, or would you be interested in exploring The Fourth Piece from Alexia's perspective?

Your opinion is valued and appreciated, so feel free to share your thoughts openly but remember to always express yourself kindly and respectfully.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso smut #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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misotsukiiyeooo · 5 days ago

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Hihi!! I’m the liar anon hahahaha. Thanks so much for writing that cute fluff. I love it! ❤️❤️❤️

Just a random thought- since Joshua collects a lot of perfumes, the couple has been sharing his stash. And there’s this moment when he caught the reader choosing which one(s) to keep when he’s about to go on tour. ☺️

Fragrance

Pairing: Hong Joshua xF! Reader

A/N: Heyyy! omg, I remember! I know I'm writing this quite late but I'm really happy you enjoyed it! hopefully, you'll enjoy this one as well!!

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2.6k

Synopsis: Feeling sad at the thought of Joshua going away on tour, you keep a perfume of his to remember his scent.

Joshua stood in the doorway, a soft smile on his face as he observed you inspect his extensive collection of perfumes. It was a ritual you both had grown to love; each fragrance held a memory, a moment shared between you.

As he prepared for his upcoming tour, he felt excitement and bittersweet emotions. The idea of being away from you didn’t sit well with him. Meanwhile, you were trying to decide which perfumes to keep while he was gone, and Joshua felt warmth in his heart as he watched you choose carefully.

"Are you planning to keep my entire collection with you?" he teased, stepping further into the room, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. You looked up, a playful grin on your face, knowing full well you were picking out a few favorites to remember him by.

"Just a few," You replied, holding up several bottles. "I want to feel like you’re right here with me while you’re away." You frown at the thought.

Joshua's heart fluttered at your words. He walked over, took one of the bottles from your hands, and brought it to his nose to inhale its scent. "This one always reminds me of when we had our first official date. It’s perfect for you to keep." He handed it to you.

As you both shared memories associated with each fragrance, he felt a bittersweet pang of longing but also a deep appreciation for these moments you had shared.

"I'm going to miss you, you know…" you said, opening your arms wide. Joshua smiled, gladly accepting your invitation, pulling you into his embrace and resting his face in the crook of your neck.

"I'm going to miss you too, darling." His voice was soft and muffled, as he buried his face against your shoulder, seeking comfort in your presence. You gently pulled away from the embrace, a playful glint in your eyes as you extended your pinky finger. "Promise you'll call me after every concert?" you asked, holding your pinky out expectantly.

A warm chuckle escaped him, affection for your innocent gesture. With a smile that radiated tenderness, Joshua interlaced his pinky with yours. "I promise, even before every concert," he said, his expression sincere as he looked into your eyes, hoping to reassure you.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully adopting a stern tone. "You must keep your word. You said it, not me." Your stern look was met with a nod from him, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Of course, you know I'm a man of my word," he replied confidently, a slight grin appearing as he leaned closer once more, savoring the moment before parting, and giving you a passionate kiss.

No matter the distance, you both knew you would always find a way to hold onto each other, one scent at a time.

Taglist!!

@jjunie-0 @honglynights @allieyaaa @bath1lda @black-swan-blog27

#svt x reader #kpop fanfic #kpopidol #kpop bg #fanfic #cottagecore #svt fluff #seventeen #kpop #svtcreations #seventeen joshua #joshua #joshua x reader #joshua hong #joshua fluff #joshua fanfic

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theemporium · 7 months ago

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blue-"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." nico being devastated he’s hurt and just needs to be held by his girlfriend

i made it a bit more emotional hurt than physical! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

29. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

It was bittersweet.

He knew it was coming. The team knew it was coming. The fans knew it was coming. It had been a rough year with messy strategies, tough injuries and bad luck slapping them in the face after the season they had the previous year. It was rough and it weighed down on everyone and it was shattering.

But, deep down, there was this little spark of hope in his chest.

Hope that they could pull through and do the impossible. Hope that they could defy the odds and make it through to the playoffs. Hope that they would click and be the amazing team he knew they could be.

He had so much fucking hope and it was completely washed away the second that final buzzer went, the reality that they had been eliminated finally settling amongst them as they looked at each other on the ice.

But Nico stepped up. He was the captain. He had these boys looking up to him and seeking him out as a pillar of comfort and reassurance. He couldn’t be moping around the locker room, not when he had to take care of his boys first. Not when he had to face the media and drag the interview out as long as he could so the other boys didn’t have to spend too long with them. Not when he had to deal with whatever debrief meetings and logistics the coaches and team wanted to have.

They may have been eliminated but he still had his duties to perform.

He felt like he was running on pure muscle memory by the time he left the Rock, settling behind the wheel of his car with a heavy sigh. His brain was racing with a million different thoughts as he drove home, plaguing him with what if’s and could have been’s. Despite the exhaustion settling in his body, his mind felt far too wired and overwhelming and, fuck, he just wanted it to stop.

And then he walked through the door and saw you cuddled up on the couch, drowning in one of his hoodies and a blanket his mother had gifted you both when you moved in, and the last of his resolve crumbled.

“Hey, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft and sweet and soothing as he dropped his bags at the door and quickly made his way towards you. He didn’t even hesitate as he practically draped himself on top of you, burying his face into the fabric of your—his—hoodie.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out because the words had been on the tip of his tongue. They had been lingering in the back of his head since the season had started, had been lingering after every loss and hardship the team and fans had to face.

“Shhh, it’s not your fault, Nico,” you cooed, your arms winding around his body to hold him tight. Because somehow you knew what was going through his head, you knew the way he was spiralling, you just knew him. “None of this is your fault.”

“Just their faces—” he cut himself off with an unpleasant sound, something stuck between a sob and a scoff. Instead, he nuzzled himself closer like he could bury himself between your ribs and stay there forever.

“I know, baby, I know.” Your fingers ran through his hair, your nails lightly scraping along his scalp in an attempt to soothe him. “Last year wasn’t a fluke, okay? This year was the fluke. Next season will be your season, I just know it.”

“You don’t know that,” he murmured, his words twisting the self-deprecating knife lodged in his heart since the season had started going downhill.

“I know everything,” you corrected before lightly tugging on his hair until he lifted his head. You flashed him a soft smile, your hands gently holding his face as your thumb smoothed over the small scar on his cheek. “You’re gonna lead that team to the win you all deserve, Nico. I know that. The boys know that. The fans know that.”

He could only muster a small smile.

“And I will happily remind you until you believe in yourself again,” you added before leaning over to peck his lips, feeling the tension in his body finally start to leave for the first time since he entered the apartment.

“I love you,” he murmured when he couldn’t find any other words to capture how he was feeling.

“I love you too, baby.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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rafesapologist · 8 months ago

Text

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part eight

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of infedelity

As you woke up, an unbearable throbbing ache in your head greeted you, causing you to groan in discomfort. You instinctively shoved your face into the pillow, seeking refuge from the harsh sunlight that only seemed to intensify the pain. Your body felt miserably sore, as though you had been hit by a truck during the night.

Slowly, you forced yourself to sit up, grimacing at the sharp pain that shot through your temples. Blinking away the haze of sleep, you glanced around the room, trying to take in your surroundings. As you noticed a glass of water on the bedside table, a wave of gratitude washed over you. With a sigh of relief, you reached out and grabbed the glass, feeling an overwhelming sense of thirst as if you hadn't had water in months.

Without hesitation, you chugged the water greedily, each sip feeling like a lifeline after a painfully long drought. The cool liquid soothed the dryness in your throat and helped to alleviate the pounding in your head, if only slightly.

With each gulp, you felt a renewed sense of energy coursing through your body, pushing back against the fatigue and discomfort that had plagued you moments before. And as you emptied the glass, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the simple yet profound relief that water had provided.

As you placed the cup back down quietly, you glanced around the room, your eyes widening as you spotted Rafe on the side of the room, nestled on the futon. His arms were crossed, and his head rested on a single decorative pillow.

A pang of sympathy washed over you as you observed him. You couldn't help but imagine how uncomfortable he must have been, sleeping on that futon with its sparse cushions, especially given his tall stature. It was clear that he had sacrificed his own comfort to ensure that you had a proper place to sleep.

As you nestled back against the headboard, your eyes wandered around the sunlit room, illuminated by the soft morning light filtering in through the window. Memories of your past flashed before you, each one accompanied by a bittersweet ache in your heart.

You couldn't help but think back to the times you had spent in this room with Rafe, the nights that stretched into the early hours of the morning as you sought refuge in each other's company. The countless movie marathons, the whispered conversations, the shared laughter – it all came flooding back to you, filling the room with a sense of nostalgia and longing.

As you gazed out the balcony window, lost in the silence of your thoughts, guilt and nostalgia gnawed at your subconscious. The memories of the past weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you feeling conflicted and uncertain about the path ahead.

Lost in your contemplation, you were taken by surprise when you noticed Rafe beginning to stir on the futon. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he was gradually awakening from a deep slumber. You watched quietly as he groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open with a sense of drowsy reluctance.

For a moment, you remained still, observing him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. It had been a while since you had seen him like this, vulnerable and unguarded in the early hours of the morning.

As he blinked away the remnants of sleep, his gaze met yours, and a flicker of recognition crossed his features. You offered him a small, tentative smile, unsure of how he would react to seeing you awake.

"Morning," you greeted softly, breaking the silence that hung between you.

"Morning," Rafe greeted with a groan as he rubbed his eyes awake, his morning voice fully prominent. The sound made butterflies erupt in your stomach, a familiar sensation that brought a sense of warmth to your cheeks.

"How do you feel?" he asked, peering over at you with a hint of concern in his eyes, which squinted as they struggled to fully open.

You offered him a small smile, trying to push aside the lingering discomfort from the throbbing ache in your head. "Not the best, but I'll survive," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the lingering effects of last night's revelry.

Rafe nodded in understanding, his expression softening with sympathy. "Yeah, I know the feeling," he admitted with a small chuckle, the sound melodic and soothing to your ears. As you watched him, a sense of familiarity washed over you, reminding you of the countless mornings you had spent together in the past. Despite the time that had passed, there was still a comfort in his presence that you couldn't deny.

"Thank you for the water, by the way. My head is killing me," you said, offering Rafe a small smile of gratitude.

Rafe nodded sympathetically, understanding the discomfort all too well. "Of course, I figured you might need it," he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring.

As you sat in silence, you found yourself gazing at Rafe in his vulnerable state of half-awakeness. His tousled bedhead somehow looked effortlessly stylish, adding to his rugged charm. You admired the contour of his chiseled face, the subtle lines that spoke of a life lived with intensity and purpose. And despite the disheveled appearance, there was a certain allure to him, a magnetism that drew you in and made it hard to look away.

You couldn't help but notice the contrast between his appearance now and the memories of him from years past. Time had changed him, sculpting him into a man with a quiet strength and undeniable charisma. And as you studied him, a sense of nostalgia washed over you, reminding you of the bond that had once existed between you.

With a soft sigh, you tore your gaze away, feeling a flutter of emotions stir within you. Despite the uncertainties of the future, one thing was certain – the history between you and Rafe was still as potent as ever, a reminder of the deep bond that had once bound you together.

"I can take you back to your place if you want, or I can have Sarah come get you. Whichever you feel more comfortable with," Rafe offered, his voice gentle and considerate.

"Shit, Sarah," you panicked, remembering that you left without notice last night, wondering if she knew the circumstances. "Did you talk to her?"

Rafe shook his head, his expression apologetic. "No, I haven't had a chance yet. But I can text her and let her know you're okay," he offered.

Your heart raced as you anticipated Sarah's response, wondering if she would be more upset about you leaving abruptly or the fact that you were with Rafe. You watched as Rafe typed out his message to his younger sister, your mind racing as you dreaded the worst to come.

After what felt like an eternity, Rafe finally hit send, and you held your breath as you waited for Sarah's reply. The seconds ticked by slowly, each one filled with a mounting sense of anxiety as you braced yourself for her reaction.

Finally, a notification pinged on Rafe's phone, and you both looked at the screen anxiously. As Rafe read the message, you held your breath, waiting for him to share the news.

"She said she's coming to get you," Rafe read out the text, the response simple and short.

The brevity of Sarah's message sent a pang of worry through you, and you couldn't help but feel a knot form in your stomach. Was she upset? Did she suspect something?

Rafe noticed your unease and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, don't worry. She just wants to make sure you're okay," he reassured you, his voice gentle and reassuring.

You nodded, trying to push aside your fears and trust that Sarah's intentions were genuine. "Yeah, you're right," you replied, forcing a smile.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," Rafe restated, his voice calm and reassuring as he held out his arm towards you. He placed his hand on your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze.

You felt a sense of warmth flood through you at his touch, and you couldn't help but lean into it, finding solace in his presence. "Thanks, Rafe," you murmured, grateful for his reassurance.

Rafe gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes meeting yours with unwavering support. "Sarah isn't gonna do anything. Trust me," he added, his voice filled with conviction.

With a nod, you took a deep breath, allowing yourself to trust in Rafe's words. Despite the lingering unease in your stomach, you knew that Sarah was truly the more understanding one of the Pogues, aside from Kiara. She never really held grudges and you found that you could confide in her about practically anything, even your darkest secrets. So you figured, this shouldn't be any different, right?

Your stomach churned in a nauseating way, the discomfort making you feel hot and clammy. Each passing minute felt like an eternity as you waited in Rafe's room for Sarah to arrive. Despite Rafe's reassurances, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at you from the inside out.

You had to admit, you were definitely assuming the worst-case scenario, bracing yourself for a potential confrontation with Sarah. It was a symptom of your own anxiety, the fear of what might happen feeding into your racing thoughts and escalating worries.

With each passing moment, the tension in the room seemed to grow thicker, suffocating you in its grip. You tried to distract yourself, focusing on anything other than the impending conversation with Sarah. But no matter how hard you tried, the anxiety lingered, a constant weight pressing down on your chest.

As you sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts, you couldn't help but wish for the minutes to pass by faster, dreading the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead. All you could do was brace yourself for whatever might come, hoping that you would find the strength to face it head-on when the time came.

As the minutes dragged on, each one feeling heavier than the last, you found yourself grappling with a mix of emotions – fear, anticipation, and a lingering sense of regret. The air in the room felt charged with tension, making it hard to focus on anything other than the impending conversation with Sarah.

Rafe's presence beside you offered a small measure of comfort, his reassuring touch a reminder that you weren't facing this alone. You drew strength from his silent support, grateful for his unwavering presence in this moment of uncertainty.

Finally, the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway broke the suffocating silence, signaling Sarah's arrival. Your heart leaped into your throat, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you braced yourself for what was to come.

The door creaked open, and Sarah stepped into the room, her expression a mix of concern and relief as she laid eyes on you. "Hey, there you are," she greeted softly, her voice carrying a hint of worry.

You offered her a weak smile, trying to mask the nerves that churned in your stomach. "Hey, Sarah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shifted beside you, his presence a silent reassurance as Sarah's gaze flickered between the two of you, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What's going on? Are you okay?" she asked, her concern deepening as she took in the scene before her.

You hesitated, unsure of how to begin explaining the events of last night and the complicated emotions that accompanied them. But before you could find the words, Rafe spoke up, his voice steady and calm.

"We had a rough night. But everything's okay now," he reassured Sarah, his tone firm yet gentle.

Sarah's eyes widened in understanding, her expression softening with relief.

"How did you end up leaving with him, y/n?" Sarah's voice was gentle but insistent, her concern palpable.

You swallowed hard, grappling with how to explain the tangled mess of emotions that had led you to make such a decision. "I... It's complicated," you began, struggling to find the right words.

Sarah's expression softened, a mix of understanding and curiosity in her eyes. "Complicated how?" she pressed, her tone encouraging you to open up.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal, but knowing you couldn't avoid the question entirely. "I just needed some time to clear my head," you admitted, hoping it would suffice as an explanation.

Sarah studied you for a moment, her gaze searching your face for any hint of the truth. "And you thought leaving with Rafe was the best way to do that?" she asked, her skepticism evident.

Guilt gnawed at you as you struggled to find the right response. "I know it probably wasn't the best choice," you confessed, regret weighing heavily in your voice. "But in the moment, it felt like the right thing to do."

Sarah's voice faltered, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Y/n... I don't know what to say. I mean, JJ could've come and got you. I don't understand-"

Before Sarah could finish her sentence, Rafe interjected, his voice calm but firm. "Well, I was already at the party, and she wasn't feeling well, so I brought her back here."

Sarah's sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard, her irritation palpable as she directed her gaze towards Rafe. "Yeah, well, thanks Rafe, but I've got it from here," she said curtly, her tone laced with annoyance.

Rafe's expression remained unreadable, but you could sense a hint of tension in the air as he nodded in acknowledgment. "Sure thing, Sarah," he replied, his voice neutral.

You felt a pang of guilt at the abruptness of your departure, wishing there was a way to convey your gratitude to Rafe for his hospitality. With a quick glance in his direction, you offered him a silent apology, hoping he would understand.

As Sarah motioned for you to leave with her, you stood up quickly, eager to follow her lead. With one last look at Rafe, a silent farewell hanging in the air, you turned and followed Sarah out of the room, leaving behind the lingering tension and uncertainty.

You hurried down the steps of Rafe's house, your footsteps echoing in sync with Sarah's brisk pace. The urgency in her movements matched the intensity of her frustration, and you could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

The front door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud, the sound punctuating the gravity of the situation. You both reached John B's van simultaneously, and Sarah wasted no time in sliding into the driver's seat, her jaw set with determination.

You followed suit, settling into the passenger seat as Sarah's hands tightened around the steering wheel. Her knuckles turned white with the force of her grip, her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead as she navigated the streets with practiced ease.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sarah's voice was sharp, her tone cutting through the silence with unyielding force.

You winced at the intensity of her words, knowing you deserved every bit of her anger. "I don't know, Sarah. It was stupid," you admitted, your voice tinged with regret.

Sarah's grip on the steering wheel tightened even further, her frustration palpable as she glanced over at you. "Stupid doesn't even begin to cover it, y/n. You could've gotten hurt. I mean, what business do you even have with Rafe?" She scolded, her concern underlying her anger.

You nodded, unable to refute her words. "I know, Sarah. I'm sorry," you apologized, feeling the weight of your actions pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

Sarah sighed heavily, her anger beginning to soften as she turned her gaze back to the road. "I just... I worry about you, y/n. You mean a lot to me, and I don't want to see you get hurt," she confessed, her voice softening with genuine concern.

Guilt gnawed at you, knowing you had caused Sarah unnecessary worry and stress. "I know, Sarah. And I'm sorry for making you worry," you said, your voice filled with sincerity.

Sarah glanced over at you, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Just promise me you won't do something like that again, okay? I don't think my heart can take it," she said, her tone softening with affection.

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you for Sarah's unwavering support. "I promise, Sarah. I won't do anything reckless like that again," you vowed, knowing you couldn't bear to see her worried or upset because of your actions.

"So, on a serious note, did something happen with you and Rafe? Because... there's no way you just miraculously ended up back at his house. I mean, the other day you practically loathed him," Sarah's voice was filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity, her words cutting through the tension in the air.

Your heart skipped a beat at Sarah's direct question, your mind racing to find a plausible explanation for your sudden appearance at Rafe's house. The truth was far more complicated than you could ever convey, and you found yourself grappling with the guilt of keeping her in the dark about your tangled history with Rafe.

"I just... ran into him, I guess," you began, your voice hesitant as you struggled to find the right words. "We talked for a minute, and he gave me a ride back because I wasn't feeling well."

Your explanation felt flimsy even to your own ears, and you couldn't help but feel the weight of Sarah's scrutiny bearing down on you. The truth was far more complicated than you could ever convey, and you found yourself grappling with the guilt of keeping her in the dark about your tangled history with Rafe.

Sarah's brow furrowed in disbelief, her expression a mix of skepticism and concern. "So, what, you just happened to bump into him and suddenly everything's fine?" she pressed, her tone incredulous.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of Sarah's questioning gaze bearing down on you. "It's not like that, Sarah. We just... talked," you insisted, your voice tinged with defensiveness.

Sarah's laughter caught you off guard, her tone unexpectedly light despite the weight of her previous questions. "Look, as much as I love JJ, you were my friend first. So if you think I'm gonna tell him anything, you're wrong," Sarah chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement. "And I know when you're lying. So tell me," she urged, her tone gentle yet insistent.

You hesitated for a moment, a knot forming in your stomach as you kept your gaze down, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. You could feel Sarah's eyes on you, waiting patiently for your response as you mustered up the courage to tell her the truth.

"We... kissed," you finally confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush as you braced yourself for Sarah's reaction.

There was a beat of silence, and you could feel Sarah's surprise palpable in the air. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper, filled with disbelief. "You and Rafe... kissed?" she echoed, her tone a mixture of shock and uncertainty.

You nodded slowly, finally meeting Sarah's gaze as you searched her expression for any sign of judgment or reproach. Instead, you found only a flicker of understanding in her eyes, tempered by a hint of concern.

"Yeah," you confirmed softly, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you.

Sarah took a moment to process your words, her brow furrowing in thought as she searched for the right response. "I... I see," she murmured finally, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I know that sounds terrible, but it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing, and when I ran into him, all these emotions came back, and I just..." you trailed off, struggling to find the right words to explain the whirlwind of emotions that had led to the kiss.

"Y/n, it's okay," Sarah interrupted gently, cutting through your self-reproach. "I mean, I don't love the idea of you and Rafe considering he's insane, but I also know you can't control what your heart wants."

Her words offered a balm to your guilt-stricken conscience, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you for her understanding. "Thank you, Sarah," you murmured, feeling the weight of your confession beginning to lift.

Sarah gave your shoulder another reassuring squeeze, her expression soft with empathy. "Hey, we all make mistakes. What matters is how we handle them," she said, her voice filled with wisdom beyond her years.

You returned Sarah's small smile, a flicker of gratitude passing between you before you averted your gaze to the passenger window. The scenery outside blurred as the van navigated the winding roads of the Outer Banks, the rhythmic hum of the engine lulling you into a sense of calm.

Lost in your thoughts, you found yourself watching the world pass by in a blur of greenery and coastal vistas. The wind whipped through your hair, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean and the promise of adventure.

Despite the weight of the conversation with Sarah, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over you as you rode back to the chateau. There was something comforting about the familiarity of the landscape, the way the sunlight danced across the waves and the seagulls soared overhead.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"Just be chill when you go in," Sarah advised sincerely as she shut the van engine off, "you know JJ can read you like a book."

"Yeah," you let out a half-hearted laugh through your nose, nodding in agreement at Sarah's point, "he's good at that. It's a blessing and a curse I guess." You sighed, bracing yourself for your entrance into the chateau while you unbuckled your seatbelt wearily, trying to stall as much as possible.

You knew that you could easily conceal yourself from JJ's inquisitions, but you couldn't escape your own guilt from what happened the night before. Despite your attempts to rationalize it, part of you couldn't shake the whirlwind of emotions that had flooded back when you ran into Rafe at the party.

As you approached the chateau, you couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that gnawed at your insides. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your guilt pressing down on you like a burden you couldn't shake.

Sarah walked beside you, her presence a source of comfort in the face of uncertainty. She offered you a reassuring smile, a silent reminder that you weren't alone in this.

"Just remember to breathe," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as you reached the front door of the chateau. "You've got this."

You nodded, drawing in a deep breath to steady your nerves before pushing open the door and stepping inside. The familiar sights and sounds of the chateau greeted you, but there was an underlying tension in the air that you couldn't ignore.

JJ was lounging on the couch, his gaze flicking up as you entered the room. There was a knowing look in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken turmoil that lingered between you.

"Hey," he greeted casually, his tone betraying none of the curiosity that you knew lay beneath the surface.

"Hey," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies that churned in your stomach.

Sarah gave you a supportive pat on the back before slipping away, leaving you to face JJ alone. You watched her go with a sense of gratitude, knowing that you would need her support now more than ever.

Turning back to JJ, you braced yourself for the inevitable questions that would follow. But as you met his gaze, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could navigate this minefield of emotions without causing too much damage.

JJ's casual demeanor belied the intensity of his curiosity as he lounged on the couch, his gaze fixed on you expectantly. "So, where did you end up crashing after the party?" he asked, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of curiosity.

You felt a twinge of panic shoot through you at JJ's question, scrambling to come up with a believable lie to cover your tracks. "Oh, uh, I just crashed at a friend's place nearby," you replied, hoping your voice sounded convincing enough.

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced by your answer. "Which friend?" he pressed, his gaze searching yours for any sign of deception.

You racked your brain for a name, any name, that might sound plausible in this situation. "Um, Sarah's friend," you improvised, hoping JJ wouldn't see through your hastily concocted lie.

JJ nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Alright, cool," he said, his tone casual as he leaned back against the couch. "Just making sure you didn't end up sleeping on the beach or something."

You let out a nervous laugh, relieved that JJ seemed to buy your explanation. "Nope, nothing like that," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the guilt that still gnawed at you from the events of the previous night.

After a moment of silence, JJ turned to you, his expression serious yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Hey, y/n, can we talk for a moment?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with a sense of urgency.

You nodded, a knot forming in your stomach as you braced yourself for whatever JJ had to say. "Of course, JJ. What's on your mind?" you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease that churned within you.

JJ hesitated for a moment, as if struggling to find the right words. "I know this might sound silly, but... I couldn't help but notice that you've seemed a bit off lately," he admitted, his gaze searching yours for any sign of understanding.

Your heart skipped a beat at JJ's words, a surge of panic rising within you as you wondered what he had noticed. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual despite the fear that coiled in the pit of your stomach.

JJ sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know, it's just... you've been distant, and I worry about you," he confessed, his voice trailing off as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising tide of guilt that threatened to consume you. "I'm sorry, JJ. I didn't mean to worry you," you replied, your voice tinged with regret.

After a moment of silence, JJ's voice cut through the air, his tone gentle yet filled with concern. "Y/n, I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me. Is this about Rafe?"

You tensed up at JJ's question, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him in shock. How could he have possibly known? Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with a response, your thoughts spiraling out of control.

"Uh... I..." you stammered, your voice faltering as you searched for the right words to say.

JJ's expression softened, his gaze steady as he waited patiently for your answer. "Y/n, you can tell me," he said gently, his voice filled with empathy. "I just want to help."

You felt a surge of emotions welling up inside you – guilt, fear, uncertainty. How could you possibly explain the tangled mess of feelings that had been swirling around inside you ever since that day Rafe had shown up at the chateau looking for Sarah?

You shrugged off JJ's concern, trying to downplay the significance of his question. "Nah, JJ, you're overthinking it," you replied, forcing a casual tone despite the turmoil brewing inside you. "It's nothing, really."

JJ studied you for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of deception. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone cautious yet persistent.

You nodded quickly, plastering on a reassuring smile. "Yeah, JJ, I'm sure," you insisted, hoping he would drop the subject.

"I just... worry you have feelings for him still. I can't just forget the history you two had." He stared over at you, although you avoided his gaze intently.

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach at JJ's words, his concern striking a nerve deep within you. "JJ, come on," you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. "That's ancient history. I'm over him, I promise."

But even as the words left your mouth, you couldn't shake the lingering doubts that gnawed at you from the inside out. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, there was still a part of you that couldn't let go of the past – of the memories, the feelings, the connection that had once bound you to Rafe.

You could sense the persistence in JJ's tone, his concern unwavering despite your attempts to brush it off. "Y/n, I just want you to know that you can tell me anything," he said earnestly, his eyes searching yours with genuine care. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

But the weight of JJ's words only served to intensify the turmoil brewing inside you, a tempest of guilt, fear, and uncertainty that threatened to consume you whole. "Damn it, JJ!" you snapped, unable to contain the frustration that boiled over within you. "I said I'm fine, okay? I don't need you interrogating me like this."

JJ recoiled slightly at your outburst, his expression a mixture of surprise and hurt. "Y/n, I'm not trying to interrogate you," he protested, his voice tinged with hurt. "I'm just worried about you."

You felt a pang of guilt shoot through you at the sight of JJ's wounded expression, knowing that you had lashed out at him unfairly. Taking a deep breath, you tried to reign in your emotions, but the turmoil still churned inside you like a stormy sea.

"JJ, you don't need to worry," you said firmly, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I can't function with you harping on about a relationship that doesn't exist anymore," you affirmed although you knew you were lying through your teeth.

Your words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing down on both of you like a lead blanket. You could see the hurt in JJ's eyes, a flicker of pain that mirrored your own inner turmoil.

"I didn't mean to upset you, y/n," JJ replied, his voice soft with remorse. "I just... I care about you, and I don't want to lose you."

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you softened towards JJ's genuine concern. "I know, JJ, and I appreciate that," you said, your voice tinged with sincerity. "But you have to trust me when I say that I'm okay. I've moved on from whatever was between me and Rafe."

JJ nodded slowly, seeming to accept your words even as doubt lingered in his eyes. "Okay, y/n," he said quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I trust you."

As you glanced over at JJ once more, a pang of guilt washed over you like a tidal wave. You knew deep down that you weren't being completely honest with him. The truth gnawed at you, clawing at the corners of your mind, begging to be set free. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it – couldn't bring yourself to admit the tangled mess of emotions that still lingered between you and Rafe.

The guilt weighed heavily on your shoulders, a heavy burden that threatened to suffocate you with every passing moment. You knew that JJ shouldn't trust you around Rafe – not after everything that had happened, not after the way your heart still ached at the mere thought of him. But you couldn't bear to hurt JJ – couldn't bear to see the hurt and betrayal reflected in his eyes.

He was more than just a friend to you – he was your confidant, your partner in crime, the one person you could always count on to be there for you, no matter what. And the thought of losing that – of losing him – was too much to bear.

So you pushed aside your guilt, burying it deep beneath the surface where no one could see. You plastered on a smile, hoping to mask the turmoil that churned inside you like a stormy sea. And as you sat beside JJ, surrounded by the warmth of his friendship and the comfort of the chateau, you couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over you – a sadness born of the secrets you were forced to keep and the lies you had to tell to protect the ones you loved.

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mayabooowrites · 1 month ago

Text

Do I know you?||D.M

It was a crisp autumn day. The air was tinged with the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the faint aroma of wood smoke from nearby chimneys.

The trees, dressed in hues of fiery red, burnt orange, and golden yellow, whispered softly in the breeze as their leaves danced gracefully to the ground, creating a colourful carpet beneath my feet.

I stood concealed next to a towering oak tree, its rough bark cool against my back.

My heart felt heavy, burdened by guilt and an overwhelming sense of indecision that gnawed at me relentlessly. Across the narrow street, a quaint little bookshop between two bustling cafés caught my eye. The soft, warm glow of the shop’s interior beckoned, and I could see her through the window, illuminated by the welcoming light.

Y/n, my pregnant fiancée, browsed thoughtfully among the shelves, her fingers trailing along the spines of the books as if seeking the comfort of their stories. I could see the gentle curve of her belly beneath her cozy sweater, a silent testament to the new life we had created together.

Each breath she took seemed to radiate a serene beauty, yet I felt a pang of anguish twisting in my gut. I wanted to approach her, to wrap my arms around her and whisper assurances, but the weight of my secret held me back like a heavy fog that distorted my thoughts and clouded my resolve.

She flipped through the pages of a book with a gentle smile, her hair catching the sunlight in a way that made my breath catch in my throat. I had watched her from afar for months, unable to tear my gaze away. She was beautiful, radiant, and oblivious to who I was.

And that was my doing.

I had used a spell to erase all memories of me—of us—entirely from her mind. I made this decision in a moment of desperate clarity, knowing that the chaos surrounding us could potentially ensnare her in a danger far greater than she could imagine.

She deserved a life free of the burdens and horrors that accompanied my existence. I couldn't bear to think of her caught in the crossfire of the dark forces at play, particularly with our child on the way. I remembered how radiant she looked, how full of hope and dreams she was, and I realized that the world I inhabited would only tarnish that light.

The stakes were higher than anyone could fathom. If anyone discovered that I was engaged to a muggle and had fathered a child with her, the consequences would be disastrous. My parents would undoubtedly react with horror and outrage, dragging both her and our child into a whirlwind of scandal and danger, perhaps even subjecting them to threats I couldn't bear to contemplate.

So, with a heavy heart, I cast the spell, watching as the memories of our shared laughter, our stolen moments, and the love we nurtured vanished into thin air. It felt like cutting a vital thread in the tapestry of my life, yet deep down, I believed I was doing the right thing. I hoped that somewhere in her mind, she would find peace, free from the weight of my legacy.

When the war finally drew to a close, leaving a haunting silence that echoed in my mind, my heart raced as I contemplated the weight of my choices. Should I return the memories of us to her? The thought of revealing myself filled me with dread, for it threatened to shatter the fragile peace she had managed to cultivate in my absence.

Yet, despite the overwhelming uncertainty, I could not shake my magnetic pull toward her. Each day, I gravitated toward Y/n, unable to resist the deep longing in my heart. It was like an invisible thread connected us that could not be severed by time or absence. She wore her laughter like a shimmering cloak, her gentle smile lighting up even the darkest corners of my soul, while her innate kindness remained a warm balm for the wounds I carried.

These memories, though bittersweet, were etched into my mind, serving as poignant reminders of what I had willingly surrendered when I erased her past. I had stripped her of memories that defined her, and in doing so, I had stolen pieces of myself as well. I questioned whether I even had the right to seek redemption. Did I deserve to be a father when my own actions had robbed her of a life that was rightfully hers?

In this moment of deep introspection, the stakes felt impossibly high. The future loomed uncertain, a vast canvas waiting for me to decide how to paint it. Would I reveal the truth, risking everything for honesty and reconnection? Or would I quietly fade into the shadows, allowing her to continue in the peaceful oblivion I had created? The thought tormented me, and in that turmoil, I felt the weight of my failures pressing heavily on my chest.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice her stepping out of the bookshop until she bumped into me, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

I smiled, a bittersweet feeling spreading through me. "It's quite alright. I should have been more careful as well."

She studied me momentarily, a flicker of recognition passing through her eyes before it was gone, replaced by curiosity. "Have we met before? You seem familiar."

I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. Should I tell y/n the truth? Should I give her back what I had taken all those months ago?

But then I looked into her eyes, full of innocence and unspoken trust, and knew what to do.

"No, we haven't met before," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just passing through."

She smiled a little sadly. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

Y/n. The name echoed in my mind, a painful reminder of what I had lost. What I had chosen to sacrifice for her sake.

"It's nice to meet you too, Y/n. I'm Draco," I replied, forcing a smile onto my face. "I hope you have a wonderful day."

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the sidewalk with a puzzled expression. I didn't look back; I couldn't bear the confusion and hurt in her eyes.

I silently vowed to myself as I entered Diagon Alley: I would leave her be, let her live without the burden of the past weighing her down, and carry the memory of her, of us, locked away in my heart forever.

I don't deserve her or my child. They are better off without me, without someone like me, someone tainted by Voldemort's mark, someone who wasn't troubled and didn't even know who they were anymore.

She deserved the best, and that wasn't me, and she needs to find that

Because sometimes, the greatest act of love is letting go.

"Goodbye, Y/n."

#fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #harry potter #fanfic #xreader fanfiction #xreader #x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy angst #draco angst #draco malfoy x you #malfoy #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you

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shebunie · 1 year ago

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Can you do Mizu x British fem reader? So what happens is that mizu and reader got together (romantically) when they were back at London but whens mizu done with her quest she's goes back to Japan but with the reader. Reader and mizu goes to see everyone/friends that they know and their shocked (or you can choose depending on the person/character) that Mizu brought the reader also Mizu is very protective of reader and you continue off that if you want! Also can you do some lime to? 🤭

𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗵!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗧𝗮𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗻. 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗶𝘁, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟮.𝟳𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵𝘆, 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘁. 𝗥𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘀𝗼 𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗲

"Spring is nearly at its bloom," Mizu remarked, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia as both of you strolled through the bustling streets of Kyoto. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, casting a delicate pink hue over the city.

"The beauty of Kyoto in spring is truly something special," The sword wielder continued, her fingers lightly tracing the petals of cherry blossom as you passed by. "Each year, it feels like a renewal, a fresh start."

“You’ve always told me stories about its beauty but witnessing it in person, truly you did not give this sight justice with your words.” you teased the swordswoman, The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of the blossoms, and the distant sound of a shakuhachi flute added a melodic touch to the atmosphere.

Mizu giggled, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection. "Perhaps, some things are better experienced than described." She glanced at you, her hand finding yours as she led you through the vibrant streets.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the streets, the blue-eyed warrior’s thoughts seemed to drift momentarily, a subtle melancholy shadow passing across her face. The journey she had embarked on, seeking vengeance for the discrimination she had to endure, had been long and arduous. But now, with the vendetta behind her, a new chapter awaited.

"There's a place I want to take you," she said mysteriously, her eyes regaining their usual determination. As you continued your stroll, the two of you reached the outskirts of Kyoto, heading towards Kohama. Mizu's steps became more deliberate, a mixture of anticipation and a tinge of hesitation in her demeanour.

Sandals shifted on the dirt path, eyes as vibrant as the morning sky after early morning passed and looked down to that small little house. A sense of warmth, comfort, and familiarity washed through her as both of you slowly walked down the steep hill, Mizu gently lending a hand for your safety. Eventually, you arrived at the cabin, Mizu exhaled deeply as she approached the home with her hand tightly wrapped around the strings of her hat.

“I’m sure they’d be delighted to see you back alive, Mizu” you assured her, fingers tracing along the lines of her calloused hand. She nodded, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension in her gaze. The memories of this place were both tender and bittersweet.

She need not have to practice her words. Swordfather consistently extended a warm welcome, contrary to the doubts that lingered in the recesses of her mind. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake off a peculiar sense of obligation to Ringo.

The door to the cabin opened hastily, revealing a tall yet chubby man, head wrapped with white fabric their eyes widened in surprise and then quickly filled with joy as they saw Mizu standing there.

“Mizu!” The large man, who unexpectedly embraced her and hoisted her off the ground, exclaimed with joy, "You're back! A-And alive!" Ringo squeezed Mizu so tightly that the pain from her healing bones and wounds shot through her, though she was relieved not to feel indebted to him anymore. She grunted in response.

“If… you don't put me down, n- neither of us will be," she warned, gritting her teeth. Ringo chuckled heartily, finally setting Mizu down but kept his stubs on her shoulders, as if making sure she was real and not just a figment of his imagination. Mizu couldn't help but grin at his exuberance, appreciating the genuine warmth that emanated from him.

Ringo’s eyes wandered to the figure beside his master, there you stood, with a soft smile on your painted lips, eyes emitting a gentle glimmer. “You brought a girl! - A pretty girl.”

You chuckled at Ringo's enthusiastic remark, recognizing the jovial tone in his voice. Mizu shot him a playful glare, but he seemed oblivious, still beaming with joy at Mizu's return, as her hand found its way to the side of your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It seems Mizu didn’t lie about your cheerful attitude, you’re too harsh for calling him annoying.” you voiced.

Ringo's expression shifted from joy to curiosity as he shook your hand vigorously. "Well, Mizu has never been one to bring just anyone around. You must be special," he declared, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Mizu rolled her eyes, used to Ringo's playful banter.

"Special or not, just don't let him talk your ear off with his stories. You'll be begging for silence within minutes," Mizu teased, earning a mock offended gasp from Ringo.

"Hey now, my stories are legendary! People travel far and wide just to hear them," Ringo defended himself, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. Mizu and you exchanged amused glances.

"Legendary for their length, maybe," Mizu retorted, earning a laugh from Ringo. As the three of you walked together, Ringo couldn't help but throw in another comment. "So, Mizu, spill the details! Where have you two been? Any epic battles? Dramatic rescues?" he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Mizu sighed, but there was a fondness in her eyes. "We've had our fair share of adventures, but not every tale is meant to be shared, Ringo. Some things are better left unsaid."

Ringo nodded solemnly, then grinned. "Of course, a samurai never reveals its secrets.” You chuckled, realizing that Ringo's friendly personality added a lively touch to the atmosphere. Sounds of something thudding against the ground interrupted the reunion, as your gaze settled on an old man.

“Swordfather.” Mizu greeted with a sudden stiffness.

Swordfather looked at her his brows furrowed and his lips thinned. He hummed as he simply stared for a few tense moments. Mizu blinked softly, she nodded and he exhaled deeply. “This house is getting too crowded…” He muttered in slight annoyance and Mizu couldn’t help the relief she felt as she smiled at him.

You observed the interaction, noting the subtle dynamics between Mizu and Swordfather. Despite his initial gruff demeanour, there was an undeniable connection between them, an unspoken understanding.

Bowing respectfully, acknowledging Swordfather's presence despite his blindness. His acute hearing allowed him to perceive your gesture, and he responded with a nod in your direction. "A new face, what brings you here?" he inquired, his voice calm but carrying a certain weight that hinted at his years of experience.

Despite being blind, his movements were sure and deliberate. He relied on the sounds around him, the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of the village, and the footsteps of those around him.

You introduced yourself, explaining the circumstances that led you to Mizu during her travels in London. Swordfather listened intently, his head tilting slightly as if to better focus on the sound of your voice. "Hmmm," he mused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "In these troubled times, it is not uncommon for destinies to intertwine. Mizu has a habit of attracting interesting companions."

Ringo laughed, "You have no idea, Swordfather. Our friend here is not only interesting but quite skilled, too."

Swordfather's blind eyes seemed to fixate on you, or perhaps it was a mere coincidence. "Skills are valuable, but character is what truly matters. Mizu has a keen sense for both." His words carried a weight that hinted at years of wisdom and experience.

As you approached the entrance of the house, the aroma of incense and the soft murmur of the wind chimes welcomed you. Swordfather navigated the familiar surroundings with ease, relying on the sounds and textures to guide him. Mizu led him to his usual spot, a serene corner where he could listen to the world around him.

Once seated, Swordfather leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Mizu, my ears tell me you've brought more than just stories back with you. There is something else in the air, a shift in the wind."

Mizu hesitated for a moment, exchanging a knowing glance with you, as if silently communicating something that went beyond words. She smiled, a subtle yet genuine expression that betrayed the unspoken connection between you two.

"Yes, Swordfather," she replied, her voice carrying a warmth that echoed her feelings. "I've encountered more than just tales during my travels. Fate has intertwined our paths in unexpected ways." She gestured toward you, introducing you in a manner that went beyond a mere recounting of events.

Swordfather's sightless gaze seemed to linger in your direction, as if trying to perceive something beyond the physical. "The dance of destinies," he murmured, "A connection that goes beyond the surface. Tell me, what is it that draws you to Mizu? In the realm of the heart, there are melodies that even the blind can hear."

There was a moment of vulnerability, a shared recognition of the emotions that had blossomed during your journey together. You took a breath, choosing your words carefully.

"Swordfather, in Mizu, I've found a kindred spirit," you began, your voice steady. "Our journey has been more than just an adventure. It's been a discovery of shared dreams, a dance of two souls finding harmony. There's a connection that transcends the ordinary, a bond that defies explanation."

Swordfather listened intently, his expression unchanged but a subtle nod indicating his understanding.

"In this life, sometimes the heart knows paths the mind cannot fathom," Swordfather spoke, his words resonating with a deep understanding. "Cherish this connection. For in the echoes of your hearts, you may find the strength to face the challenges ahead."

As the conversation shifted, the atmosphere in the room carried a new depth, a sense of shared understanding that went beyond the spoken word.

Just as the poignant moment settled, the shoji doors slid open with a sudden force. The ambient peace shattered as Taigen, stood in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room until they locked onto Mizu, who had been standing quietly beside you.

"Mizu!" Taigen exclaimed, his voice cutting through the hushed atmosphere. "We have unfinished business, you and I. A duel was promised, and I've come to collect."

"You again?"

Taigen's eyes narrowed, his focus unwavering on Mizu. "Forgive me, Swordfather. But a promise demands satisfaction. Mizu, do not deny me what is rightfully mine."

Mizu stepped forward, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I have not forgotten, Taigen. But do you have to be such a pain in the ass?” Taigen scoffed, unsheathing his blade with a sharp metallic ring.

Taigen smirked, his eyes glinting with a mixture of determination and amusement. "A promise is a promise, and I intend to keep it. Are you ready to face the consequences of your words?"

You could feel the tension in the room rising, the air thick with anticipation. Mizu's lips curled into a sly grin. "Consequences? You make it sound like I'm about to face the wrath of the gods. It's just a friendly duel, isn't it?" Taigen chuckled, a low, throaty sound that echoed in the room.

"Perhaps you've forgotten the sting of defeat. I'm here to remind you."

As the two wielders squared off, you couldn't help but sense the undercurrent of rivalry that went beyond the boundaries of a simple duel. Mizu and Taigen circled each other like predators in a dance, their blades gleaming in the soft light filtering through the shoji doors.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu's usually composed demeanour was cracking under the pressure of Taigen's persistent comments, about you. Her eyes darted between him and you, an unreadable emotion flickering in their depths. It was then that Taigen, with a mischievous glint in his eye, decided to turn the tables.

"Ah," he said with a smirk, "I can't help but wonder if your heart is in this duel or if it's distracted by other matters." He shot a quick glance in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment too long. Mizu's face betrayed a hint of annoyance, her jaw clenched.

"Focus on the duel, Taigen. I have no time for your theatrics."

But Taigen was relentless. As the clash of steel filled the room, he continued his banter. "I gotta admit, I didn't expect to find such captivating company here. Maybe there's more to this journey than meets the eye."

You could see Mizu's grip on her sword tighten, a flash of irritation crossing her features. It seemed Taigen's words were getting under her skin. The duel became not only a test of skill but also a battleground for unspoken emotions.

Finally, with a swift move, Mizu disarmed Taigen and held her sword at his throat. The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the heavy breaths of the combatants.

"Poor technique, easily learned," Mizu declared, her gaze cold. "Easily defeated."

As Mizu withdrew, she shot you a glance that carried a mix of frustration and something else— that lingered in the air. As Taigen retreated, she turned her attention back to you. The tension in the room lingered, thick like the scent of cherry blossoms on a cool breeze. The air crackled with unspoken words, and you could almost taste the lingering traces of the duel's emotional undertones.

As the shoji doors slid open, revealing the tranquil garden outside, Mizu stepped into the moonlit night. You followed suit, the night embraced them like a cloak, shadows dancing on their faces as they exchanged a few terse words.

"You're always so serious, Mizu," You teased, tone light as your hand reached to grasp her shoulder, tracing light patterns.

She turned to face you, her gaze softening under the moonlight. "I have to be serious. The world is not always forgiving." A hint of vulnerability peeked through the facade she usually wore. The tension from the duel seemed to linger, but now it was a different kind of tension—an electric charge that pulsed between you.

"Maybe," you said, stepping into the small distance between you, fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw, "but there's more to life than just battles and strife. Sometimes, it's about the moments we allow ourselves to savour."

The garden around you seemed to hold its breath, the only sound being the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. Mizu's gaze dropped for a moment before rising again, a hint of something more profound in her eyes.

"Sometimes, though, I wonder if there's room for a different kind of seriousness in my life," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The air became charged with an unexpected intimacy, and you found yourself drawn closer to Mizu. The scent of cherry blossoms intensified, wrapping around both of you like a delicate perfume. The moon illuminated her features, casting a soft glow that accentuated the vulnerability she rarely revealed.

"Perhaps there is," you murmured, your fingers gently tracing a strand of her hair. The tension in the air shifted from the remnants of the duel to an unspoken connection, an energy that pulsed between you.

Mizu's gaze locked onto yours, and in that moment, the world outside the garden seemed to fade away. The boundaries between, and the night became a canvas for something more profound. Without another word, she leaned in, and the touch of her lips against yours carried the weight of a thousand unspoken feelings.

Your lips, soft and familiar, sent a surge of warmth through her entire being. With every passing second, her breath grew more strained, muscles tensing in anticipation of your touch. Yielding to the magnetic pull between you, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into her embrace, the world outside fading away.

As her hands flattened against your spine, an electric current seemed to dance along her skin. Your hand, like a gentle breeze, found the curve of Mizu's neck, fingers starting a sensuous dance, caressing the delicate contours beneath. With each tender touch, a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips, intermingling with the shared breath of the moment.

Kissing her back, your lips traced a path of desire, leaving an indelible mark on the canvas of passion. The sensation of your fingers on her neck sent shivers down her spine, and a subtle smile played upon her lips, a silent acknowledgement of the intimate connection forged in that tender embrace.

A momentary pause lingered as the kiss continued, a shared symphony of desire. As you pulled away slightly, her gaze, infused with a delicate lightness, met yours. The air between you crackled with the unspoken, silent language of longing. Her breath, a soft melody, hung in the air, a testament to the lingering sensuality that bound you together.

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