#sincerely us gift exchange

[kiro-sveta]

My KuraMiyu Exchange 2023 gift for @/teahex, featuring hurt/comfort, sickfic, fantasy AU (with Blacksmith Miyuki and Glassblower Kuramochi), minor angst, fluff, two art pieces, roughly 830 words, and happy endings (because I'm physically incapable of not letting them be happy).

And the first time in close to twenty years that I shared any of my writing with anyone, let alone publish it haha. I'm very nervous about it, and about drawing hurt/comfort, but I also enjoyed working on this and am proud of what I was able to do in the end (while fighting an illness too!), and I sincerely hope you like it, tea and anyone/everyone else who might see this. I'll also share the art and story below (with part 2 under a cut) in case anyone would prefer this tumblr post to AO3.

And the exchange's collection can be found here! Please check it out if you like kuramiyu, everyone did an amazing job!!

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glass and steel

-

Part 1: fragmented

“Hurry up and get better, Miyuki. Things aren’t the same without you.”

-

Part 2: whole

he’s missed this

-

(some time after the first image)

Youichi walked past the path leading towards Miyuki’s home. He knew in his heart where he’d find the blacksmith, and it wouldn’t be in those quiet rooms. Enough time had passed while he’d been away on business, and his friend had already been restless well before he’d left. He’d be in the forge now, Youichi was sure of it. He just hoped the stubborn bastard had kept his promise and waited until he’d fully recovered beforehand.

His suspicions were confirmed as he neared the forge, the air getting warmer and filling with the sounds of life and movement; the scrape of metal on stone or metal, gravel crunching underfoot, air being forced out of a bellows. Before entering the forge properly, Youichi took a brief moment to close his eyes and take in a fortifying breath, readying himself for whatever state Miyuki might be in. And instantly felt a weight lift when he finally saw him.

There was a flush on Miyuki’s face and sweat on his brow, but there was no sign of fatigue or weakness. His movements were smooth, his breathing even, his face and body full of life. He hadn’t yet noticed Youichi standing near the entrance, and Youichi took another moment to observe him, marveling and relieved to see him up and about and comfortable in his skin again. Not struggling with aching bones and muscle. Things hadn’t been the same for a good while, and Youichi felt as if he himself could breathe easier now.

Miyuki turned from the bellows and noticed him, and his smile grew, his face becoming more alive. “Hey, I know I’m a sight for sore eyes, but say something, Mochi, don’t just stand there. How long have you been there?”

Youichi shrugged. “Not long. It’s good to see you up and about.”

Miyuki’s grin became wry. “It’s good to be up and about.” He wiped the sweat from his brow and neck. “I swear, if I had to wait much longer…” His thought trailed away though, and a small frown marred his brow as another thought came to him. “Wait, you said you’d be home sooner. What happened?”

He seemed to study Youichi in a new light, looking for any injuries or signs of trouble, concern clear. He knew that Youichi always kept his word if he could help it, and Youichi hadn’t meant to be away long. Hadn’t meant to be away during the last of Miyuki’s recovery. But some things couldn’t be predicted and Youichi waved away his concerns, saying that there were more delays than he’d expected, both on and off the roads. It’d been out of his hands. And it hadn’t helped that he’d had to track down his last customer and give him a piece of his mind when he’d canceled his commission before leaving.

As he finished talking about his trip Youichi took the finished commission out of his pocket and looked at it ruefully. It was a small delicate glass bird, wings in flight, and despite the miniscule imperfection in one wing and what his former customer had said, he was proud of it.

Then Miyuki was stepping closer to get a clearer look, gently reaching out for it. Youichi let him take it, and watched as he carefully studied it. “I hope you gave him hell. It’s beautiful, Mochi.” The blacksmith flashed Youichi a grin, and walked over to one of the forge’s windows to carefully set the bird on the sill, safely away from any tools.

Youichi closed his hand and lowered it to his side as he watched Miyuki and the bird. His chest felt tight. Then Miyuki was back, gripping his shoulder strongly, strong enough that one wouldn’t think he’d ever been injured if they hadn’t known better. He was grinning again.

“Come on, I could use your help with some stuff.”

He started walking over to the work he’d abandoned, already expecting him to follow, and Youichi felt both the need to protest and the need to follow him. “You do know that people usually ask for help instead of just expecting it to happen, right? I could be busy.”

Miyuki grinned at him over his shoulder, said, “But you aren’t.” He picked up a tool and beckoned Youichi with it. “Get over here already. It’s been too long since we worked together, and you’ll like this project. I guarantee it.”

And Youichi can’t say no. He already has his tools with him, never took off his work belt or unpacked his bag (and even if he hadn’t had his tools with him, he’d make do, he has before). And he’s missed this, the fire and metal and glass, creating and reshaping things, Miyuki at his side, whole and alight with life. And Miyuki’s right; he’s not busy, he has the time, and it has been too long.

He’s compelled to follow, and does so without any regrets.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝ 🍽 — lady l: I finally managed to post this!! I really liked the result and I hope you like it :) forgive me for any mistakes and good reading. 💙🤎

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, kidnapping, death and mention of suicide and violence, toxic relationships.

❝🔪pairing: yandere!hannibal lecter x gender neutral!reader x yandere!will graham.

The idea of ​​someone else coming into their relationship wasn't something they planned or thought about. They were still getting used to the new dynamics of their relationship, so actually adding a third person wasn't in the cards. But when Hannibal and Will met you, that thought took root in their minds.

You were like a breath of fresh air to them. Something new, exciting, and something they could keep to themselves, as a new addition to their new lives. And they were eager to make you fit into your new life with them.

Initially, Hannibal and Will watched you from a distance, exchanging conspiratorial glances and smiles, as if sharing a silent secret. Every interaction with you only reinforced the idea that you were the missing piece to the puzzle they were putting together. They had no doubt that you would be theirs eventually, whether you wanted it or not.

Hannibal, with his calculating nature and magnetic charm, began to engage you with his intellectual conversations and sophisticated dinners, demonstrating an almost mesmerizing hospitality. He knew exactly how to capture your attention and make you feel special, he knew how to make you feel indispensable.

Will, on the other hand, with his sensitivity and keen perception, found subtle ways to connect with you. He understood you in a way few could, offering a shoulder to lean on and a deep understanding of your emotions and thoughts. His sincere vulnerability was a perfect contrast to Hannibal's confident assurance.

You found yourself torn between these two poles of attraction, each complementing the other in a way that seemed almost orchestrated. Hannibal and Will became more and more indispensable, each encounters deepening your connection and making the idea of ​​leaving their circle more and more unthinkable.

Finally, a dinner at Hannibal's house that felt more like a secret celebration than a simple meal. The tension in the air was palpable, filled with unspoken promises and unspoken desires. Hannibal and Will, with complicit looks, began to close the distance between the three of you, breaking down the last remaining barriers. They didn't hide their intentions anymore, nor what they were. There was no more secret.

They knew perfectly well how to manipulate you, how to make you trust them completely. Every interaction, every gesture, was carefully calculated to deepen their dependence and trust. Hannibal, with his ability to read people and understand their weaknesses, knew exactly what to say to make you feel valued and special. His words were like a balm, soothing any doubts you might have had.

Will, in turn, used his innate empathy to connect with you on a deep emotional level. He knew how to make you feel understood and accepted, creating an intimacy that seemed almost magical. His eyes reflected a sincerity that was difficult to question, and his presence offered a comfort that became addictive.

They were both good to you, in their own way. Hannibal would always cook you your favorite meals, and treat you to anything you want. Do you want to go on a ridiculously expensive trip? No problem. He will give you all the best and the best, bathing you in luxury. Will is more simplistic in this situation, he prefers to show his love for you through touches, like kisses and hugs, but he also gives you gifts when you want something.

Will is the more affectionate of the two, at least physically. He likes to hug you constantly, bury his head in your neck or steal kisses from you. Hannibal is already more subtle in his touches, he prefers to place a hand on your shoulder, lift your chin so that you look him in the eyes and kiss your forehead gently.

They are extremely possessive and overprotective and this is nothing new. Hannibal will kill and cook anyone who gives you the wrong look or displays inappropriate behavior around you. To him, you are a treasure that must be protected at all costs, and he will not hesitate to use his macabre skills to ensure your safety. Any perceived threat is quickly eliminated and transformed into a feast only you can enjoy.

Will, on the other hand, has a different but equally intense approach. He is more than willing to beat anyone to death if he thinks they are trying to steal you from them. His anger is raw and direct, driven by an intense passion and a desperate need to protect those he loves and he loves you, even if it's in a twisted way. For Will, you are the anchor that maintains his sanity, and he will do anything to maintain that stability, even if it means committing extreme acts of violence.

Hannibal and Will are an amazing duo when they work together and if they want you, they will get you. While Will may have reservations about kidnapping you and forcing you into a relationship with them, Hannibal already thinks otherwise. You are theirs and there is nothing wrong with taking what is yours, is there?

There is no escaping them. You can try as much as you want, but they will always find you. They are great at hunting together and they would hunt you all over the world if necessary. You won't leave them, they will be sure of that.

In the end, you become part of their world, accepting that, although complex and sometimes terrifying, it is the only place you truly belong. They own you, and you, in some way, also own them, creating an indissoluble bond that redefines the concept of relationship. The sooner you accept that this is your new reality and accept them as your partners, everything will be fine. But if not, Hannibal will have no problem teaching you manners and Will are going to be there to help heal your wounds and silence your cries.

[helaintoloki]

I am just so obsessed with the idea of Five and Reader's domestic life (without all those doomsday shite) 🫠 so please, if you can, I'd love to read something related to that 🙏🏻

a/n: hi anon sorry for the wait ! i just started the fall semester and haven’t had much time to write but i hope you enjoy this little slice of life -esque fic

warning: basically pure fluff

The dance hall is nearly empty save for the elderly couple rocking back and forth in each other’s arms in front of the stage where the big band plays their last song of the night. Tired busboys and cleanup crew members clear away the tables and sweep up any mess to prepare for the next day of business. Despite the evening coming to a close, you’re in no hurry to leave Five’s arms as he delicately twirls you around the dance floor to one of his favorite songs.

“Ready to call it a night?” He asks with a careful smile after watching your eyes nearly flutter shut for a third time. He knows you well enough to detect when you’ve reached the point of exhaustion, but he also knows you’re not one to ever admit this out of your own volition.

“Tired already, old man?” You counter playfully, but you don’t protest as he begins to lead you off the dance floor and out the doors to your car. Your feet are killing you and you want nothing more than to crawl into bed, and Five is fully aware of your current internal dialogue. He helps you into the car and even slips off your heels for you before taking his place behind the wheel.

“This was nice,” he admits in a soft voice, glancing over at you in the passenger’s seat. Your head is pressed against the cool glass of the window as you watch the city streets pass by, and you let out a gentle hum in response to his comment.

“It’s nice we get to do normal couple things now,” you agree thoughtfully. “No assignments to complete, no world-ending apocalyptic threats to stop, no timelines to fix. Just us getting another chance to relive our twenties again in a world where the moon is still intact.”

“I’m sorry about all that,” Five relents with a tired sigh. If not for him you probably never would have been wrapped up in all that mess in the first place, and he feels partly responsible for the chaotic nature your life had taken on the last few decades.

“Hey,” you call gently, prompting the boy to glance over at your sincere gaze and soft smile, “I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that. I literally had the chance to, but I decided against it.”

“Don’t remind me,” he scoffs quietly at the memory. The Handler had cornered you once with an enticing deal- a chance to return to your own time in exchange for Five’s whereabouts and his plans to stop the end of the world. She mistakenly underestimated your loyalty to the time traveler, and you had gifted her with a solid right hook in response to her offer. That all felt so long ago to you both now.

The headlights of the car drown your front yard in artificial light as Five finally pulls into the driveway of your humble home. After everything had been set back to normal and the Cleanse had been stopped, you both decided to move out into the suburbs and purchased a lovely little fixer upper in a quiet neighborhood where almost nothing seemed to happen. It was exactly the fresh start you needed, and every time you stepped over the threshold through the front door you felt your heart fill with warmth all over again just like it had the first time Five had carried you inside.

“I think we should get a dog,” you voice aloud for no particular reason as you flip on the lights and shut the door behind you. The house is cozily warm despite your absence, and already you can feel the eagerness rising within you at the thought of crawling into bed.

“A dog?” Five repeats with a raised brow as he hangs his coat on the wall and sets your heels upon the shoe rack next to his own.

“After married people get a house they usually start having kids, or they get a dog,” you explain with a casual wave of your hand as you walk through the hallway and into the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water. “I think we should get a dog.”

“Not a kid?” Five teases as his fingers playfully poke into your side. You jump at the feeling, and he uses the distraction as an opportunity to steal your glass from you so that he may take a hearty gulp of water before you can protest.

“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. At least, I’m not. I can hardly handle babysitting Grace and the twins as it is.”

“To be fair, they take after their parents,” Five reminds you with a sarcastic chuckle before handing you your freshly refilled glass of water. “I think our kids would stand a better chance.”

“A Hargreeves child with a y/l/n as their mother?” You retort with a pointed look and uneasy smile. “Not likely. I’d like to remain chaos free for at least another few years before we get to that.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he relents with a sigh before wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve had enough chaos to last us a lifetime. The kids can wait.”

“So we’re getting a dog?”

“We’ll get a dog,” Five chuckles with a careful nod as he presses his lips to your cheek.

“Can we name him Mr. Pennycrumb?”

“Mr. Pennycrumb?” Your husband retorts skeptically, pulling away to analyze your facial features in search of any falsehood or mirth. “Where’d you come up with that?”

“I read it in a comic book once,” you offer with a simple shrug as if it’s the most obvious explanation in the world. Despite how much time he’s spent with you, you still always find a way to surprise him when he least expects it. It’s one of the many things he loves about you, and it’s why your relationship has remained so strong after all this time. It’s hard to reach a stalemate when you’re always keeping him on his toes.

“Of course, what was I thinking,” Five hums thoughtfully as he pulls away from your figure and sets your now empty cup in the sink. “Mr. Pennycrumb it is.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and turns to leave for the bedroom, but your melodious call of his name has him stopping dead in his tracks. You move forward to loosen his tie for him, an adoring smile on your face as you peer up at him through your lashes and quietly voice, “I love you.”

He grins, his gaze soft with a look that is only reserved for you as he presses his lips to your forehead and gifts you a tender hearted kiss. What he ever did to be lucky enough to have someone like you, he’ll never know, but what he does know is that he’ll gladly spend the rest of his time on this earth making you happy with the life you’ve built together.

“I love you too,” he utters reverently before pulling you into his arms once more for another kiss.

[lincolndjarin]

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging. 

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.  

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim. 

“My entire Christmas bonus.” 

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh. 

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this. 

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work. 

“Please, Steve.” 

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours. 

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process. 

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away. 

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today. 

Javier P. 

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office. 

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with. 

Every single woman, except you. 

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner. 

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be. 

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo. 

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed. 

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk. 

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her. 

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs. 

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails. 

Red chipped paint. 

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway. 

Probably. 

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you? 

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car. 

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though. 

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap. 

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday. 

Jesus. 

You know way too much about him. 

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails. 

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette. 

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night. 

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower. 

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt. 

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes. 

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected. 

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses. 

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours. 

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt. 

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach. 

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation. 

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie. 

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier. 

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.  

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up. 

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift. 

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things. 

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away. 

Javier traded for your name? 

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting. 

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again. 

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident. 

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend. 

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.  

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people. 

Javier’s office. 

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand. 

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him. 

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult. 

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab. 

What a foolish question. 

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home. 

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall. 

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face. 

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow. 

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?  

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out. 

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends. 

“So this is about the secret Santa.” 

Of course he wouldn’t get it. 

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him. 

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first. 

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms. 

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide. 

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye. 

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night. 

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.” 

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go. 

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you. 

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole. 

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth. 

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts. 

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt. 

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment. 

Jesus you’re soaked. 

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him. 

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here. 

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock. 

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission. 

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you. 

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk. 

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time. 

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning. 

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk. 

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while. 

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin. 

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss. 

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier. 

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting. 

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

[insidekatmind]

A sweet Christmas- Jobe Bellingham

It’s Christmas Eve, and the crisp December air fills your house. Outside, snow falls slowly, covering every corner with a soft, white blanket. Inside, the atmosphere is warm and cozy, illuminated by Christmas lights sparkling in every corner of the room. A large Christmas tree is decorated with golden baubles, red ribbons, and a golden star shining at the top. Candles on the table glow gently, and Christmas music plays softly in the background, creating the perfect ambiance.

Jobe Bellingham, your boyfriend, is in the kitchen, busy preparing something special for you. Despite being used to the hectic pace of life between training and matches, today he has decided to spend every moment with you, away from the spotlight, to experience Christmas in a simple and authentic way.

When you enter the kitchen, you find him focused on making gingerbread cookies, but with that concentrated expression, it seems like he's preparing something much more complex.

“What are you doing, love?” you ask, smiling sweetly.

He looks up and smiles back at you with his usual shy yet affectionate grin. "I’m trying to make Christmas cookies. I watched a YouTube video, and it looked easy... but it’s not."

You approach him and take his hand, careful not to get flour all over yourself. "Can I help you?"

Jobe smiles, clearly delighted to have you there with him, even though he's trying to make something simple. "Yes, please. I need help so I don't make a mess."

Together, you start mixing the ingredients, laughing when a little flour ends up on you. Jobe can't stop laughing when a bit of butter gets stuck in your hair. "Look what you made me do," he says, but with such sweetness that you feel loved in every little gesture.

When the cookies are finally ready to bake, he gives you a gentle caress on your cheek. "Thanks for helping me," he murmurs, his gaze speaking volumes about how much he appreciates these small moments you share.

You take a break while the cookies bake, and together you curl up on the couch, wrapped in a warm blanket. Jobe holds you close, and you snuggle against him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His hand finds yours, and without saying a word, he takes it, a smile on his face that makes your heart flutter.

"I like spending Christmas like this," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "With you, away from everything."

"Me too," you reply, resting your head on his shoulder. "It’s perfect."

The cookies are ready, and when you taste them together, you realize they're delicious, even though they aren’t perfect like the ones you’d find at a bakery. But what makes that moment special is that you’re living it with him.

The evening continues with laughter, gift exchanges, and sweet caresses. Every now and then, Jobe looks at you with a smile he can’t hide, as if trying to memorize every single moment of that night. When the gifts are unwrapped, Jobe looks at you with eyes full of affection and gives you a small but meaningful box.

“Open it,” he says, giving you a playful smile.

Inside, there's a necklace with a star-shaped pendant that sparkles in the candlelight. Your heart tightens as you look at the gift, and then you lift your eyes to him. "Jobe, it's beautiful..."

He smiles, taking your hand. "I wanted to give you something that would remind you how special you are to me. Every star in the sky... is for you."

His words are full of emotion, and you realize that there’s nothing more beautiful than spending Christmas with him. His sweetness, his presence, everything feels perfect.

After dinner, he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead. "Merry Christmas, my love."

"Merry Christmas, Jobe," you reply, your heart beating faster. And in that moment, all you want is to keep living these small moments of happiness, with him, forever.

[artytaeh]

Draco would definitely love something that you put so much thought into into. He wouldn't care if it costs all of you mr money or nothing, as long as you put the effort and thought into it he'll love it.

yes. i feel like draco malfoy always got the best of everything— the best brooms. the best brand of clothes. the best toys. the best everything there was to have.

however, the so proclaimed best not always corresponds to draco's tastes— to what he likes.

i feel like during his childhood, and extending it to his teenage years, draco struggled with his sense of self. what made draco him, something behind the surname malfoy.

because malfoy loves wealthy, expensive, the best brands. draco, however, isn't sure of what type of clothes he'd like to use, rather what he should use as the malfoy family's heir.

here and there, without thinking about it, draco would share something he likes with you; something that means, me as person appreciate this specific stuff, rather than: 'yeah, these brooms? the newest and most expensive ones. mine.'

so i think that the first time you gift something to draco, he'll be a little— too quiet? draco stares at the gift, then looks at you; i imagine draco's birthdays as those parties that you leave your gifts on a corner all piled up together, that draco will open after the party ends and he's alone; gifts from his parents are necessary things for a heir like him, or something he only had to look once to send the message: i want that.

draco carefully opens the gift; it's something from you to him, rather rudely he'd wonder if you managed to meet his high standards—

until he recognizes that said gift was something you put a lot of effort in, or recognizing it as something that suits his favored things.

oh.

he genuinely gets sad at first. i feel like draco's arrogance or cocky demeanor would fade a little into a frown like this ☹️ when his brain starts working to understand how valuable of a gift this is for him.

draco malfoy will get stupidly mad if one of his dormmates or friends touch the gift you gave him. like take?? your?? filthy?? paws?? out of my partner's amazing gift??

would be so terribly mean to anyone who dares to make a teasing comment about what you got him. let's say, a scarf:

mattheo: since when do you wear cutesy crocheted stuff, malfoy?

draco: ...

draco: [with a smile] since when do you recognize gifts given by loved ones? right. because not even your own mother likes you—

or that one time you've got him an early christmas gift, since before the break starts, the slytherins exchange presents in the common room (that last night before leaving hogwarts).

and you see, draco gives you that sincere smile, hand on the back of your head so you step closer to him and he gives you an affectionate kiss on your forehead, thanking you for the thoughtfulness you put into the gift given to him, until—

blaise: ohhh is malfoy getting softer?

draco: is zabini getting his teeth punched out of his mouth?

so going back to what you said: yes, totally. ☹️ i doubt that i'll ever write much about draco malfoy BUT THIS melted my heart.

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Eight: Responsibility Above All 

Word Count | 5.9k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader OC Chapter Warnings | allusions to smut, switch pov

The General’s tent looked so different in the morning light. Last night, it had felt heavy with mystery and unease, the kind that made it impossible to relax. Perhaps it was the strangeness of the place—unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar surroundings—but now, everything seemed calmer. The soft rays of sunlight poured through the open flaps, making the candles from the night before seem unnecessary. A gentle breeze moved through the tent, replacing the sticky heat with something cooler, almost refreshing. You wondered if this change in the air would make it easier to say the difficult words you had prepared.

As expected, sleep never came to you. When the first light of dawn appeared, you decided to stop tossing in bed and face the day. Hours had passed with nothing but your thoughts: plans forming and silent prayers to the heavens, hoping for some divine guidance from your mother or father. Yet the silence of the gods remained unbroken, and you were left to face this moment alone.

In the corner of the tent, a wooden chest sat quietly. It was a gift from Lena, the General’s pregnant wife, filled with fresh dresses to replace the one torn from your ride through the woods. Her gesture had surprised you. You were so used to hollow kindness from people trying to gain favor with the Emperor’s daughter. But here, in this encampment, you had no title, no throne to sit upon. You were no longer a princess. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lena’s gesture came from a place of genuine goodwill. You made a mental note to thank her later, with sincerity.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts. Valerian, Lena, and Acacius entered the tent together.

For a brief moment, your eyes met Acacius’s. His expression was different from last night’s anger; instead, there was something else—something quieter, as if looking at you caused him pain. You forced yourself to ignore it. Your feelings didn’t matter right now. A leader couldn’t afford such weakness.

“Your Grace,” Valerian said, his tone casual, as though this decision was a simple one. “Have you reached your conclusion?”

“Be kinder, my love,” Lena interjected, her voice gentle but firm. “She is not one of your comrades to be addressed so carelessly.” She moved gracefully across the tent and settled into a chair near a modest table bearing fresh fruit. A quiet exchange passed between her and Valerian—an unspoken connection that only lovers share. His boyish, almost bashful smile hinted at a shared secret. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if the gods would ever grant you something even remotely resembling their bond. “Forgive us for the delay, my dear. This little one decided to make quite the fuss after all the excitement of last night.” Her hands rested protectively on her belly, caressing it with the tenderness of a mother. A gesture so natural, so familiar, that it stirred distant memories of your own mother.

“There is no need for further formality.” You stood, squaring your shoulders to project a confidence you did not entirely feel. “I have reached my decision. To do so, I had to set aside my personal desires and emotions. My duty is to the Roman people, just as my father’s always was. He would not have tolerated a usurper taking the city through unjust means. That is why I must marry General Acacius.”

You kept your eyes fixed on Valerian, unwilling to face Acacius and risk seeing the disdain you were certain must be etched on his features.

But if you had looked, you would have seen his expression shift. Surprise overtook his face, his breath caught in his throat, and for a heartbeat, his chest seemed to freeze mid-rise.

“My father despised war,” you continued, your voice firm and deliberate, “but he understood the cost of peace. He would never have wanted me to wed someone as corrupt as Macrelius, merely to appease the Senate. His memory must not be dishonored, and our people must be free from the tyranny of those men.” You finished your speech with as much resolve as you could muster, praying that your words conveyed the image of a determined and courageous leader. Yet beneath the surface, your heart trembled.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

What, in the name of all the gods, was she doing?

Acacius mind replayed the events of the previous night with merciless clarity. Their encounter had spiraled out of control, unraveling in a way he hadn’t anticipated. To him, it had been obvious—marrying that man was never an option. Yet when you uttered those cursed words, that you would feel safer with Macrelius, something inside him had snapped.

He regretted his reaction, bitterly. His words, his tone—they had been unbecoming of a soldier, let alone a man who loved a woman. And love you he did. The realization had struck him with the force of an enemy’s blade. There was no other explanation for the jealousy that had clawed its way through him, no excuse for the way his chest burned at the mere thought of you choosing another. After storming out of your tent, he’d spent the night tangled in the memory of your voice, your expression, the pain etched into your every word.

For a fleeting moment, he’d considered returning to you, swallowing his pride to apologize. But what good would that have done? Surely, you would choose Macrelius. You deserved happiness, and if it lay with another man, then he would have no choice but to accept it. He would support it, even, if only to keep you safe.

But now—now you stood here, and your words shattered everything he thought he understood.

I must marry General Acacius.

The walls he had so carefully built around his heart crumbled in an instant. His breath caught, his pulse racing as though he were preparing for battle. His body screamed at him—fight or flee. But which was it to be? Should he run from you and the chaos you brought into his soul, or fight for this fragile, impossible thing between you? For the first time, Acacius questioned everything he had promised himself.

"Well, it seems you're very much decided, Princess," Valerian’s voice broke through the haze in his mind. “I can see your father left a great legacy. My wife will handle all the... womanly matters, given that she’s one of the few here not at home raising our son as I begged her to do a thousand times.” His tone was light, teasing, as he glanced at Lena, who responded with a knowing smirk.

"Wait," Acacius interrupted, his voice unsteady, almost desperate. "Do I not have a say in this?"

“To be honest, brother, you don’t,” Valerian replied, his tone soft yet firm. “We’ve already discussed this, and much to your dislike, you can’t escape marriage forever.”

Lena rose carefully, her movements slow under the weight of her pregnancy. “Perhaps they should have a moment alone,” she suggested, slipping her arm through Valerian’s. Her playful tone returned as she whispered, “Your son is crushing my ribs, and I need some air.”

As the couple left the tent, you turned to Acacius, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the rustle of the canvas around you. “I know this decision doesn’t bring you joy,” you began, your voice wavering. “But this is something I must do—for my people, for my father—”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, spilling the words in a rush as your fingers twisted nervously at the hem of your dress. The weight of his presence was unbearable, pressing down on you like a storm cloud.

“Lumina mea,” he interrupted, his hands reaching for yours. His touch was cold, trembling, yet his grip was firm enough to anchor you. He lowered his head, searching for your gaze until you finally lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Can you not see it?” His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. “My heart has been yours since that night in the gardens. I know I’m not easy to read, that my temper gets the better of me, but this—” He pressed your hand to his chest, where his heart pounded beneath your palm. “This belongs to you and always will. That’s why I must ask: are you sure you want this? If there’s even a single moment where you think you’d be happier with him, then please—choose him. I want you to be happy, and I’m not sure I can give you everything you deserve.”

The words hung in the air between you, fragile and uncertain, yet filled with a sincerity that made your chest ache. For the first time, the formidable General seemed vulnerable—a man standing on the precipice of love and fear, willing to sacrifice everything for your happiness.

"Why didn’t you say all of this earlier?" Your voice trembles, soft and almost fragile, as if it might shatter under the weight of the question. “You left me thinking you hated me, that you were toying with my feelings, and that the idea of marrying me was as dreadful as death…”

Your words trail off, but the pain they carry lingers in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. His silence feels louder than anything, and for a moment, you fear he won’t answer at all.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice rough, each word deliberate. “I… I’m not very good at this. Expressing my feelings, I mean.” He pauses, the weight of his inadequacy evident in the way his shoulders slump slightly. “But I’ll do better—I promise you that.”

He lifts your hand, his grip both gentle and firm, and presses a kiss to the back of it. The warmth of his lips lingers on your skin, and for the first time, you see not the General, not the soldier hardened by years of war, but the man beneath.

A faint smile tugs at your lips, and you raise your eyes to meet his. “Well,” you say softly, “I suppose we’ll have to learn together then.”

Your smile grows, tentative but genuine, and in that moment, something unspoken passes between you. It’s a fragile understanding, a promise that neither of you could fully put into words but both feel with undeniable certainty.

Acacius watches you, his chest tightening with emotions he can barely comprehend. The vulnerability in your smile, the strength in your voice despite the hurt you’ve endured—it moves something deep within him. He makes a vow, silent and sacred, far greater than just learning to express his feelings.

He will become what you need, what you deserve. He will protect you with his very life if necessary, shield you from every storm, and make you the happiest woman alive. You deserve no less, and he will stop at nothing to ensure it.

The world outside the tent seems to fade, its demands and dangers momentarily forgotten. For now, there is only you and him, two souls caught in the uncertain but undeniable pull of something greater than either of you can name. And as he holds your hand, Acacius silently promises that, whatever trials await, you will face them together.

“Then I suppose... I shall see you at the altar.”

His words come softly, yet they carry a weight that lingers in the air between you. His lips curve into a gentle smile, one that feels uncharacteristically tender for the man you thought you knew. But it is not merely the smile that holds your attention; it is the way his eyes glisten, reflecting a light so unlike the fierce general you’ve come to recognize.

In that moment, the stoicism of his demeanor falters. There is something unguarded, vulnerable even, in his expression—a quiet joy that seems almost foreign to him, like a man stumbling upon a treasure he had long forgotten he desired.

And though the words are simple, their resonance stirs something deep within you. For the first time, the path ahead feels less like a sentence and more like a promise.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Lena seemed to embody the excitement of a child at a festival, her energy contagious as she flitted about the tent with determined purpose. She meticulously examined each piece of fabric brought by the other women in the camp, lifting them against the faint light filtering through the canvas walls. Her movements were quick, but precise, her brow furrowed in concentration as she matched the vibrant hues and textures to the dress you were already wearing.

“I’ll make this as beautiful as it can be, darling,” she declared, her tone both reassuring and commanding. “We don’t have much, but what we do have will suffice. A princess cannot be wed in anything less than perfection, can she?” Her eyes lingered on a silken strip of fabric before dismissing it with a wave of her hand, the discarded piece falling to the floor without ceremony.

You stood silent, offering only a timid smile in response. Words felt unnecessary, or perhaps they simply escaped you in this moment. The nervousness coursing through your veins dulled your wit, leaving you unable to summon even the most mundane pleasantries.

Lena paused in her whirlwind, her gaze softening as she seemed to sense your unease. She stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on her hips as she regarded you with a kind, sisterly expression.

“You know,” she began, her voice quieter now, almost conspiratorial. “I grew up surrounded by men. Soldiers, generals, and war councils... it was a world of steel and strategy. But now that you are to marry my brother...” Her voice trailed off as her face brightened with a smile that could rival the sun. “It feels as though I’m finally gaining a sister, you know?”

Her confession took you by surprise, but it brought a warmth to your chest that you hadn’t expected. Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a gentle squeeze. “Of course. And as sisters, you must stop with all this ‘princess’ and ‘your majesty’ nonsense. We are family now.”

Lena’s smile grew impossibly larger, and with a playful tilt of her head, she returned to rifling through the collection of garments, humming softly to herself.

The silence that followed weighed heavily, and at last, you found yourself speaking, your voice hesitant and quiet. “It’s just... I feel so nervous. I’ve been preparing for this my whole life, but even though I don’t mind having a modest wedding, everything feels so strange, so foreign. And then, of course, there’s your brother...”

Lena froze mid-motion, her face clouding with concern as she turned to you sharply. “Did he mistreat you?”

“Oh, no!” you answered quickly, your cheeks coloring at the implication. “Quite the opposite. He’s... well, he’s quite a man.” Your voice faltered, your gaze falling as a shy smile played on your lips. Memories of your fleeting moments with Acacius flooded your mind, and you felt the heat rising to your face.

Lena’s sharp expression softened, her lips curving into a knowing grin. She took your hand and led you to the edge of the cot, sitting beside you with the air of someone eager for a tale. “Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell,” you admitted, though the warmth in your voice betrayed the fluttering in your chest. “At first, I thought he liked me. We even... kissed, the very night we met. But then he began avoiding me, and I convinced myself that he merely tolerated my presence.”

Lena shook her head, her laughter light and musical. “My brother is as thick-headed as a stubborn mule. I’ve long given up trying to understand what goes on in that mind of his.”

“Well, I was certain he would despise the idea of marrying me. But now that I know... that our feelings are mutual...” You trailed off, your laughter nervous. “I don’t know what to do!”

Lena’s expression turned mischievous as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not... worried about the wedding night, are you?”

Your face burned at the mere suggestion, and the look of mortification you shot her made her giggle softly. Sensing your discomfort, she quickly reassured you.

“There’s nothing to fear,” she said warmly. “My brother may be brash and unpolished, but he cares for you. He will be gentle, and I dare say you’ll find the experience far more enjoyable than you might expect.” She stood abruptly, her hands on her lower back as she stretched, her pregnant belly shifting slightly with the motion. “Now come, they’ll be arriving shortly with a priest from the nearest village. You must look splendid.”

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You hadn’t expected his touch to feel this way, warm and steady, grounding you amidst the whirlwind of the evening. His hand enveloped yours, fingers lightly brushing against your skin as if unsure whether to hold tightly or let you slip away. For a fleeting moment, you dared to glance down, marveling at the contrast—the roughness of his calloused palm against the softness of your own.

The two of you sat together on the raised wooden dais, a place of honor reserved for newlyweds. The crude yet sturdy chairs bore wreaths of laurel and wildflowers, their fragrance mingling with the smoky aroma of the fire that roared in the heart of the encampment. Beyond the flickering flames, figures danced in jubilant abandon, their laughter and voices lifting to the heavens as a hymn to Jupiter.

The great fire commanded the center of the celebration, its crackling embers leaping skyward as if eager to carry the prayers of those gathered. Around it, offerings were laid with care—baskets brimming with fresh grains, clusters of vibrant blossoms, and small carved idols placed as tokens of devotion. Each gift was a plea for blessings, a promise of prosperity, and a hope that this union, like the fire itself, would burn bright and enduring.

The golden light of the late afternoon bathed the assembled crowd, casting long shadows over the neatly arranged rows of soldiers. The air buzzed softly with murmured prayers and the rustle of ceremonial garb. The priest, adorned in pristine white robes, stood beneath a canopy of crimson, his hands steady as he prepared for the ancient rite.

Before the him stood Aemilia and Acacius, their hands freshly cleansed and now clasped together in the sacred Dextrarum Iunctio, the joining of right hands—a gesture both symbolic and binding. Their gazes met briefly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them, but Acacius quickly looked forward, his expression a stoic mask.

The priest began the invocation, calling upon Jupiter Optimus Maximus to witness the vows and bless this union forged for the stability of Rome. When it was Aemilia’s turn to speak, she inhaled deeply, her voice carrying across the crowd, steady but heavy with meaning.

"Before the gods and in the sight of this great assembly, I, Aemilia, pledge my hand and my heart to this union. For the good of Rome, I offer my loyalty, my strength, and my honor. In joining our destinies, we create something greater than ourselves, for together, we are stronger than apart."

Her words were measured, deliberate, and though the sentiment was laced with duty, the softness in her tone hinted at her resolve to see this bond through—not out of passion, but out of a deep-rooted sense of responsibility.

Acacius followed, his voice firm but slower, as if weighing every word. "Before Jupiter and all who bear witness, I, Acacius, accept this union with Aemilia. I vow to protect, to honor, and to uphold the promises made here today. For the strength of Rome and the legacy of our people, I take this bond as sacred, unyielding."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, his hand tightening slightly around hers as if grounding himself. "Though our paths have converged not by chance, I will strive to be a partner worthy of this alliance and the trust it commands."

The priest raised his hands in blessing, intoning the ancient words that finalized the pact. A soldier stepped forward, carrying a thin strip of woven cloth, red and gold, which he carefully wrapped around their joined hands—a symbol of their intertwined fates.

As the vows ended, the murmurs of the crowd fell silent, the weight of the ceremony settling like a gentle shroud. Aemilia glanced at Acacius, whose face betrayed no emotion, yet his grip remained firm. For all the political undertones of this marriage, the act of clasping hands, the solemnity of the vows, and the blessings of the gods bound them together in a way no strategy could sever.

“You feel tired? Do you wish to retire?” His voice was a low whisper, a soft murmur that brushed against your ear. His face, illuminated only by the flickering moonlight and the warm glow of the fire, looked somehow different now. There was a hint of redness in his cheeks, a glow that spoke not of exhaustion but of the wine that had loosened the air around you both. It was just enough to make him seem more at ease, more human, yet not enough to dull his sharp gaze.

“I do wish for a little quiet, I’ll admit,” you replied, offering him a shy smile, the words escaping more from nervousness than desire. “But you can stay, enjoy the festivities."

“Oh, I will not,” he said, shaking his head, his voice light yet firm. “These festivities are for both of us. And if you are not here, then there is no reason for me to stay.” He pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand, and as he did, you noticed the gesture had become almost habitual. And strangely, you realized how much you had come to cherish it. “And a husband,” he added with quiet certainty, “I shall follow you wherever you are.”

“Well, if you say so...” you smiled, a little bashful beneath his teasing tone, yet it stirred something warm inside you.

He called to Valerian, murmuring something to him, and moments later, the crowd’s attention was drawn to the space before the fire, signaling the beginning of a special dance.

“This is our cue,” Acacius said, his tone playful, almost boyish, as he gave you a mischievous look, his eyes gleaming with a shared secret. “Let us flee before anyone notices.”

“Oh, so now I see how strategic the great General of Rome is!” you teased him, your voice carrying lighthearted mockery. “What a meticulous plan, indeed.”

He guided you, his hand firm in yours, leading the way as he walked ahead. “So you laugh at me?” he quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I rescue you with a successful plan, and what I get in return is mockery?” His tone was far from angry. In fact, it was the opposite—his humor was infectious. Your teasing had managed to draw out a genuine laugh from him, a sound that, for some reason, filled you with ease.

“Does the soldier wish something different for rescuing a princess in distress, like me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance.

“Well, I do have some things in mind...” His voice dropped an octave, deepening with an unfamiliar edge. You had never heard him speak like this before. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the tent flap, gesturing for you to enter.

Inside, the space was breathtaking. The soft glow of candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, their light warm and inviting. The bed in the center was draped with white cushions, a serene haven in the midst of the night’s revelry. You looked at Acacius with a nervous glance, the anxiety stirring within you like a whirlwind.

“I asked Lena to make our chamber as comfortable as possible,” he said, his voice light, though you could hear the faint hesitation beneath. “I hope... I hope it suits you.” He stepped ahead, close to the bed, as though unsure of what to do next.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Your mother had spoken of certain things, and Vera, in her own way, had offered her limited knowledge during those quiet late nights you shared. But now, in this moment, all that seemed distant, irrelevant. The air was thick with uncertainty.

Noticing your unease, Acacius reached out, his hand extended with gentleness. “Come,” he said softly, his tone laced with warmth. You hesitated but moved toward him, your fingers finding the comfort of his hand. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want tonight,” he continued, his voice steady but kind. “I will never, ever force myself upon you, I promise.”

You lowered your gaze, the nerves flooding your chest, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. “I truly don’t know what to do... I don’t want to disappoint you, but I am, one hundred percent, nervous.”

He gently lifted your chin with his thumb, his touch both firm and tender. “What about we continue from that night in the palace garden?” His words, though simple, brought an unexpected calmness to your fluttering heart. His reassuring smile made the world seem just a little less daunting, and for a brief moment, you felt as though it was okay to be vulnerable, to be unsure.

With a shy nod, you closed the distance between you, your lips finding his in a soft kiss—a quiet promise, a tentative step toward something new, yet familiar.

His lips met yours with a tenderness that belied the strength of his embrace. His hands moved with deliberate care, one encircling your waist to draw you nearer, the other cradling the nape of your neck as though safeguarding a fragile treasure. A fire kindled within you, growing with every heartbeat, and the desire to be closer—to dissolve entirely into him—overwhelmed you.

When he pulled away, it was only just enough to speak, his lips brushing yours as his breath mingled with your own. “I say we do this…” His voice was slightly uneven, breathless in a way that made your pulse quicken. “I’ll lead, but if at any moment you wish me to stop, if anything feels wrong—just say so. Do you understand?”

Your throat felt dry, and the words caught there for a moment before you nodded.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he tipped your chin to meet his gaze, his tone soft but firm. “I need to hear it, mea formosa.”

You swallowed the nerves tightening your chest and managed to whisper, “I will say it… husband.”

The word seemed to ripple through him, his entire frame shivering with a desire so palpable it left you breathless. His forehead pressed lightly to yours as his voice dropped, almost a growl. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Before you could respond, his lips found the curve of your neck, tracing a slow, reverent path that left you gasping. A hum escaped you—whether in agreement, question, or sheer surrender, you could not tell. Words had deserted you, scattered like leaves in a tempest.

He chuckled softly against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. “Nothing to say now, hmm?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, playful yet intoxicatingly deep.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile, though your breath came in shallow gasps. He always had this effect on you—the ability to coax laughter, longing, and love all at once, as if his very existence were a melody only you could hear.

The tension in the air shifted, transforming from anxious uncertainty into something tender and filled with trust. He leaned forward, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that was unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world. His hands moved with deliberate care, one cradling the back of her neck, the other tracing the curve of her waist. Each touch ignited a spark within her, building a warmth that spread through her entire being.

Aemilia let out a soft, involuntary sigh as his lips trailed from hers to her jaw, then to the sensitive skin of her neck. She tilted her head, granting him better access, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. “Acacius,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands trembling as they began to explore his broad shoulders and down his arms.

He guided her to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were afraid to shatter the fragile intimacy that enveloped them. When they sat together, she felt the tremor in his hands as he gently brushed her hair away from her face. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “Do you know that?”

Aemilia’s blush deepened, but a newfound confidence stirred within her. “You...” she said softly, her tone carrying a playful edge, “you are not so bad yourself.”

His laughter was quiet but genuine, and the sound eased the lingering tension in her chest. “Not so bad? Coming from you, I shall consider it as gesture of your kindness” he teased, leaning closer, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

As the layers of clothing fell away, the barriers between them dissolved as well. She could feel his hesitation mingling with her own, yet his touch never wavered. He moved as though she were something precious, his fingertips tracing patterns along her skin that sent shivers down her spine. And when his hands trembled, she placed hers over his, steadying him.

“Acacius,” she whispered, her voice more assured now, “I want this. I want you.”

Her boldness surprised them both, but it was the spark he needed to fully let go of his own reservations. “You have all of me, Aemilia,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “Now and always.”

As the night unfolded, the initial hesitance melted away, replaced by a growing confidence in each other’s embrace. She surprised herself with the way she responded to his touch, her hands exploring the contours of his body with an eagerness she hadn’t known she possessed. He, in turn, was captivated by her courage, her willingness to meet him halfway and then some.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced along the tent, casting an air of quiet intimacy. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound that accompanied the slow, tender movements between them. She, poised yet determined, gently guided him back, her touch sending a shiver through him. Her eyes, darkened with a depth of feeling, met his, and in that fleeting moment, she pushed him back gently, taking the lead in a way that left him breathless.

"Want you so badly, it almost aches," he whispered, his voice low and thick, laden with both admiration and an undeniable hunger. The words hung between them, as if the very air was charged with unspoken desire.

She allowed herself a small, knowing smile, her lips curling ever so slightly as a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. "That bad?" she teased, her voice soft but laden with a certain playfulness. "Well, coming from you, I shall take that as a gesture of your kindness."

He laughed, a warm sound that filled the space, and his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering on her skin. "It's not kindness," he said with a sincerity that made his words feel almost like a vow. "It's the truth. I can't fathom a life where you're not in my arms every moment. How could I bear such a thing?"

She gazed at him, her expression softening, the playfulness in her eyes replaced by something deeper, something quieter. Her hand, still resting against his chest, gave a gentle press, as if urging him to quiet his thoughts.

“Let’s not think of that,” she murmured, her voice low, the words like a delicate sigh, almost a plea.

He looked at her, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze holding his with an intensity that made him forget everything but the two of them, standing there in a world of their own making.

A breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, it seemed as though time itself had paused, leaving them suspended in that quiet space between what was said and what remained unspoken. His fingers grazed her cheek, the touch almost reverent, as if every part of him ached to hold onto this moment, to keep her here, with him, as the rest of the world faded away

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

When their breaths finally slowed and they lay entwined beneath the soft glow of the candles, a comfortable silence settled over them. His fingers traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder, and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

She bit her lip, already feeling the warmth of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I apologize if I’m going beyond some limit by asking," she began, her voice soft and hesitant, as though she were testing the waters of a delicate subject. "But… I feel like I should know, perhaps… Or I’m just curious, and I wish to know. I’m your wife, and I believe we should know some details of each other’s lives."

Her voice trailed off, and she realized she might have spoken more than she intended, her words almost mumbling now, as though retreating into herself. Her heart fluttered, uncertainty swelling in her chest.

"Out with it," he said, his tone light, yet there was a warmth there that softened the words. His hand found its way to her side, pinching her gently, the touch playful, even affectionate, easing some of the tension.

She hesitated, feeling her breath catch in her throat before she spoke again, lifting her gaze from his chest to meet his eyes. "Have you ever… done this before?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her heart raced as she sought the truth in his expression, wondering how he would answer, what that truth might be.

He froze for just a heartbeat, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words, the right way to explain. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever, leaving her to wonder if perhaps he wouldn't answer at all. But then, his voice broke the silence, serious and steady. "I was raised differently, so yes," he replied, his gaze steady, his words deliberate. "I have done it before."

She could feel a ripple of discomfort pass through her, but before she could let the silence grow too thick, he reached for her hands, his fingers gentle against hers. He held them there for a moment, still, the weight of his touch grounding her. "But this..." he continued, his voice softer now, as if he were confessing a truth that had only just occurred to him. "This is new to me as much as it is new to you. It never felt like this."

The words lingered in the space between them, charged with something deeper than she had expected. She could feel the sincerity in his tone, the truth in his touch. For a moment, time seemed to pause, and in that pause, she realized that this, what they were sharing, was something entirely their own, something neither of them could quite put into words, yet both understood fully.

[perfectlyoongi]

BEST-FRIEND!NAMJOON who has a matching necklace with rings from your favorite drink cans. you thought those necklaces were made when you were 15 years old. 16? no, 17. yes, 18 for sure. it was something simple, very insignificant, but for you and Namjoon it was memories of two days full of sun and joy. in each necklace there was a new promise of eternal friendship and infinite love. it was as if those necklaces were the rings of your friendship. you never took them off. and whenever you needed that extra strength or comfort, it was by holding your necklaces that you found a little peace. “i’ll be honest with you. i don’t remember when we made our necklaces. all i remember is your huge smile when you put on yours. and to be honest, that’s all i need to remember.”

BEST-FRIEND!NAMJOON who pretended to marry you on your last day of high school and still has the vows he made to you. you knew that your paths would separate with the arrival of adulthood, but neither of you wanted to lose that special friendship. so, as if to celebrate the love between you, you and Namjoon faked a small ceremony in the garden of his house, where vows were exchanged and sealed with a tight hug. neither of you would disappear, you would just keep growing together. “i promise that our paths will meet again and when that happens, i will come to you with a suitcase full of my love for you. i promise that i will see you again and i will have my heart empty of missing you.”

BEST-FRIEND!NAMJOON who does embarrassing photoshoots to give you as postcards at christmas. when you took that photo of Namjoon at the beginning of high school and just teased him that he looked like he had never seen a camera in his life, Namjoon took your words as a challenge. so, every year without fail, Namjoon would do a small photoshoot where he would pose as if the art of photography was a science too complex to be understood. always signing the postcards with words too sweet for the photographs used, you looked forward to christmases just because you would receive that piece of intimacy from your best friend. “merry christmas to you and me. here’s your annual postcard. i don't know how to exist. i hope this makes you smile. stay well.”

BEST-FRIEND!NAMJOON who has written down in a notebook all the promises you made to each other. from the day you started a friendship, promises started to be exchanged. small things like taking his first car ride with you, or giving handmade gifts until you were twenty-five, you and Namjoon had a long list of hopes that graced your friendship. with each promise fulfilled, Namjoon crossed it out with the date it was fulfilled. but those long-term promises, those promises that lasted a lifetime, those were the ones that graced the first page in Namjoon’s notebook; after all, there is nothing more beautiful and hopeful than “i promise to love you until the day the earth eats me. and even then i will return in the form of flowers to show my eternal love for you — N.”

BEST-FRIEND!NAMJOON who saves you whenever you have a date that goes wrong. whenever you went on a date and it was going badly or was really uncomfortable, Namjoon didn’t mind pretending to be your very sick grandfather or your little sister who had a nightmare. all it took was a message from you for Namjoon to come up with a story that would justify your absence. changing his voice, status and name, Namjoon always made sure you had a way out of that date, always waiting for you at the door of your house to have ice cream with you on your couch. “remember if you need a way out, just send me a text. i can be everything you need, just say the word. i hope you have fun and remember, i’m always here.”

BEST-FRIEND!NAMJOON who is always the first to wish you a happy birthday. Namjoon always made sure to do two things: be the first to send you a happy birthday message and the first to call you to sing you the happy birthday song. when your special day arrived, a long and sincere message found refuge in your inbox and, before you even managed to open the message, Namjoon was already calling you to wish you a happy birthday. between Namjoon’s tender voice and his gentle words, you were starting your birthday with a little encouragement and happiness — that day was going to go good, Namjoon had promised you that. “happy birthday, sunshine. i know your day will be fantastic because you will be with me, but still, i hope the day goes well for you. remember that i love you very much and that the world is a better place because you are in it.”

BEST-FRIEND!NAMJOON who had no problem declaring himself to you because he knew it was reciprocal. when the time was right, Namjoon declared himself to you without nerves or beating around the bush. he knew you like no one else. he knew everything about you, including your feelings. so when he realized that his love was desperate to find shelter in your soul, it was with calmness and affection that Namjoon spoke to you. with bright eyes and a wide smile, Namjoon just looked at you and confessed. “ i like you. i dare say i love you. and i know you feel the same, so thank you for taking care of me and my heart. i know that with you i am in good hands.”

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire (gold wedding)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: dragon bride

- Next part: aftermath

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @punk-in-docs @barnes70stark

As you walked through the grand gates of Casterly Rock, your arm reluctantly linked with Jason’s, the hum of the gathered crowd and the clamor of the procession began to fade. The towering stone walls of the keep seemed to envelop you, their grandeur and weight pressing down like the responsibility you were about to take on.

But it wasn’t the castle’s imposing beauty that caught your attention—it was the sight of Rhaenyra standing near the steps to the great hall, her crimson gown a vibrant contrast against the gray stone. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her face was lit with a grin that made you immediately suspicious.

Rhaenyra had cut her tour of the realm short, it seemed, and her arrival was timed almost too perfectly. She raised an eyebrow as her gaze flicked from you to Jason, then to the necklace around your neck—the same golden piece with the lion and dragon entwined that you had once called "atrocious."

You stiffened, your free hand instinctively brushing against the pendant, the ruby eyes of the lion gleaming in the sunlight. Jason, of course, noticed the movement, and when he followed your gaze to Rhaenyra, his grin widened.

“Well, Princess,” Jason murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “it seems your sister approves of my gift. And of us.”

You shot him a sharp look, but before you could retort, Rhaenyra called out, her tone dripping with amusement. “My dear sister! I hadn’t expected to find you looking so… regal.”

Your eyes narrowed at her, but her grin only widened as she descended the steps, her gaze pointedly lingering on the necklace. “And here I thought you’d never let him near you with that piece of jewelry, let alone wear it.”

“Rhaenyra,” you said warningly, your voice low.

Jason, clearly enjoying the exchange, chuckled softly beside you. “Ah, Princess Rhaenyra,” he said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. “It seems you’ve arrived just in time to witness the union of the dragon and a lion.”

“And what a sight it is,” Rhaenyra replied, her grin sharpening as her eyes met yours. “Tell me, sister, does the necklace feel lighter now that you’re wearing it for all to see?”

You ignored her, your cheeks warming slightly as you turned back toward the great hall. Jason, still holding your arm, leaned in closer, his lips brushing just below your ear as he whispered, “She’s not wrong, you know. You wear it beautifully. Though,” his voice dropped further, “I’d rather see you wearing nothing but this.”

Your step faltered, and you shot him a glare, hissing under your breath, “Jason.”

He grinned unabashedly, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “What? I’m simply stating a truth, my dear wife-to-be.”

“You’re being childish,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing as you quickened your pace, determined to outdistance him.

Jason matched your stride easily, his amusement undeterred. “And yet, here you are, on my arm, wearing my necklace.”

“Don’t push me,” you warned, though the heat in your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

“Oh, Princess,” he said softly, his voice tinged with mock innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As you reached the entrance of the great hall, the sound of the gathered nobles’ chatter echoed out to greet you. Jason paused, his hand tightening on your arm just slightly as he leaned in one last time.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone quieter but sincere, “you’ve never looked more radiant.”

You didn’t reply, though your flush deepened as you turned your attention to the hall ahead. Jason’s grin remained firmly in place as he escorted you inside, his confidence bolstered by the sight of you at his side—and the knowledge that, despite your protests, you wore the symbol of your union proudly for all to see.

The grand doors of the great hall swung open, revealing a breathtaking scene that seemed to encapsulate the wealth and power of House Lannister. The vast chamber was adorned with golden drapes and crimson banners bearing the lion sigil, their rich hues glowing in the light of the massive chandeliers above. Rows of Westerlands nobility and prominent lords and ladies from across Westeros were seated in their finest attire, their eyes immediately drawn to you and Jason as you stepped into the hall.

Jason’s grip on your arm tightened slightly, a gesture meant to be reassuring—or possessive, depending on how you looked at it. His green eyes swept over the hall with barely concealed pride before flicking back to you. Your face was composed, regal even, but there was a faint tension in your jaw and a certain stiffness in your movements that he hadn’t expected.

“Careful, Princess,” Jason murmured softly as you walked side by side down the aisle toward the Septon. “Your mask is slipping.”

You shot him a glance, but it lacked its usual fire. “Jason, don’t.”

The sharpness in your tone was muted, almost distracted, and it only deepened his curiosity. He studied you closely as you both approached the front of the hall, where the Septon stood waiting beneath a large arch adorned with roses and lion motifs. The royal family had already taken their seats nearby, King Viserys looking particularly pleased as he exchanged a few words with Alicent. Rhaenyra, seated beside them, caught your eye and offered a sly, encouraging grin.

Jason leaned closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You’re usually sharper than this, Y/N. What’s troubling you?”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, your words clipped. “Focus on your grand day.”

Jason smirked, though his concern lingered as he noted the slight tremor in your hand when you adjusted your gown. “You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think, Princess.”

You didn’t reply, your gaze fixed ahead as you reached the Septon. He waited patiently, his hands folded and his expression serene, while the murmurs of the gathered guests faded into expectant silence. Jason guided you to stand before the Septon, his hand resting lightly on yours as he turned to face you.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Jason remarked under his breath, his grin softening into something almost teasing. “Should I be worried?”

You finally looked at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, he saw something he didn’t recognize—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly masked. “Jason,” you said softly, your voice carrying a rare note of sincerity, “just… let’s get through this.”

His grin faltered slightly, and his hand tightened over yours. “If you’re trying to unsettle me, it’s working.”

Before you could respond, the Septon began the ceremony, his voice ringing out over the silent hall. Jason turned his attention forward, though his focus remained divided, his thoughts lingering on you. Whatever worry you carried, you clearly had no intention of sharing it—not here, not now.

As the ceremony progressed, the formal words of the Septon echoed through the hall, but Jason couldn’t help stealing glances at you. Your posture was perfect, your expression poised, but your responses were quieter than he’d expected, your usual sharpness dulled.

When the time came for you to clasp hands and repeat your vows, Jason held your gaze steadily, his voice steady and confident as he spoke. But as you recited your own vows, he noted the faint hesitation in your voice, the slight pause that wouldn’t have been noticed by anyone who didn’t know you as well as he did.

As the Septon concluded the vows, the great hall was cloaked in an anticipatory silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Jason retrieved the ceremonial cloak. It was a stunning piece of craftsmanship: deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold, the lion of House Lannister embroidered in thread so fine it seemed to gleam in the light. He draped it over your shoulders with a flourish, the weight of it settling heavily against your back, a tangible symbol of the bond that now tied you to him and to Casterly Rock.

Jason stepped back slightly, his green eyes locking onto yours as the Septon announced, “By the old gods and the new, I declare this union sealed. You may kiss the bride.”

The faintest smirk curled Jason’s lips as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest lightly against your cheek. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, and you could feel the heat of his breath as his lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was softer, more deliberate than you expected. His touch lingered, just enough to make you aware of the significance of the moment.

The hall erupted into cheers and applause as the kiss ended, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Jason straightened, his grin widening as he turned to face the crowd, one hand resting possessively on your lower back as he guided you forward. The royal family stood with smiles—Viserys, beaming with pride; Alicent, offering a graceful nod of approval; and Rhaenyra, her sly grin unmistakable.

The feast that followed was a spectacle of opulence, the great hall transformed into a scene of unparalleled grandeur. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted boars, gilded platters of exotic fruits, and pies filled with rich meats. Goblets of fine Arbor wine were raised in toasts, and musicians played lively tunes that filled the air with a sense of celebration.

Jason led you to the head table, his arm still firmly at your back as he basked in the attention of the gathered lords and ladies. His charm was on full display, his laughter ringing out as he exchanged pleasantries and accepted congratulations with the ease of a man completely at home in the spotlight.

“You see, Princess,” he murmured as he pulled your chair out for you, his voice low and smooth, “our union has already made me the envy of every man in this room.”

You settled into your seat, your expression carefully neutral as you glanced over the hall. “I didn’t realize you needed me to boost your already inflated ego.”

Jason laughed, taking the seat beside you. “Ah, but a man can never have too much of a good thing. And now, I have the very best.”

As the courses were served, Jason leaned toward you, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. “Now that you’re officially mine,” he began, his tone light but carrying an edge of possessiveness, “I’ve been thinking about how we should spend our honeymoon.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your wine. “Should I be one concerned now?”

“Not at all,” he said, grinning. “I thought we’d spend most of it in our chambers, enjoying the comforts of married life. After all, a union like ours deserves a proper celebration, wouldn’t you agree?”

You snorted softly, setting your goblet down. “Of course you’d want to stay in the chambers. You’re too lazy to do anything else.”

Jason laughed, undeterred. “And after that,” he continued, leaning closer, “we’ll tour the Westerlands. I’ll show you the beauty of my lands, from the Golden Tooth to Fair Isle. My bannermen will line the roads to greet us.”

“Ah,” you said, catching on, your lips curling into a wry smile. “So it’s not about showing me the Westerlands—it’s about showing me off to your bannermen.”

Jason didn’t deny it, his grin only widening. “Can you blame me? My wife is a Targaryen princess, bonded to a dragon no less. I’d be a fool not to show you off.”

You shook your head, but despite yourself, you couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said softly, his voice dropping just enough to be intimate, “you’re still here. My fierce wife.”

The feast was in full swing, the hall filled with the hum of lively conversation, the clinking of goblets, and the occasional burst of laughter. Lords and ladies from every corner of the realm approached you and Jason, offering their congratulations and well-wishes for your union. At the moment, you were in polite conversation with Lord Jasper Wylde and Lady Redwyne.

Lord Wylde was recounting some tale about a particularly challenging trial of strength in his youth, gesturing grandly, while Lady Redwyne commented on the excellence of the Arbor red being served. Jason, ever the charming host, kept the conversation flowing smoothly, his grin widening at every flattering remark.

You nodded along, offering a courteous smile, though your mind wandered as the weight of the day began to settle. It wasn’t until you caught movement near the entrance of the hall that your attention snapped back into focus.

A figure clad in dark leather and crimson strode through the open doors, his silver hair unmistakable even in the dim light of the hall. Daemon Targaryen had arrived.

The atmosphere shifted almost immediately. Conversations faltered, and the lively music seemed to soften as heads turned to take in the unexpected guest. At the high table, King Viserys stiffened, his expression flickering between alarm and annoyance. Rhaenyra, seated beside him, leaned slightly forward, her gaze fixed on her uncle with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Is that—?” Jason began, following your gaze. His words trailed off as Daemon made his way through the crowd, his sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on you and Jason.

“Prince Daemon,” Jason said smoothly as Daemon approached, standing with an air of confidence that betrayed no sign of unease. “We weren’t expecting you.”

Daemon stopped a few steps away, his lips curling into a faint, sardonic smile. “Clearly,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. His eyes flicked to you, lingering for a moment before turning back to Jason. “Imagine my surprise when I returned from the Stepstones, only to hear that my brother had given one of his daughters to a Lannister.”

You tense, but Jason remained calm, inclining his head slightly. “No one gave me anything, my prince,” Jason said, his tone measured but firm. “I won her favor, as any husband should.”

Daemon scoffed, his sharp laugh cutting through the murmurs of the surrounding crowd. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you won her favor?” His eyes shifted back to you, glinting with a challenge. “Tell me, niece, did he win you, or were you merely playing along?”

You narrowed your eyes, your patience thinning. “Enough, Daemon.”

Daemon’s gaze lingered on you, his smirk softening into something more inscrutable. “Protective already, are you? How charming.”

Jason straightened slightly, his grin cooling as he watched the prince with careful eyes. “This is a day of celebration, Prince Daemon. Surely even you wouldn’t ruin that.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, his sharp teeth flashing briefly. “Don’t worry, Lord Lannister,” he said lightly, his tone laced with mockery. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining such a grand affair. Besides, I was curious to see this union for myself.”

“Then perhaps you’d care to enjoy the feast,” Jason replied, his tone cordial but edged with steel.

For a moment, the tension was palpable, a crackling energy that seemed to freeze the air between them. Finally, Daemon’s smirk faded, and he inclined his head slightly, as if conceding the point.

“Very well,” he said, stepping back slightly. “Enjoy your moment, Lannister. I’ll be watching.”

With that, Daemon turned and made his way toward the high table. Viserys shifted uncomfortably as Daemon approached, but the prince simply slid into a seat at the far end, offering Rhaenyra a sly smile as he reached for a goblet of wine.

Jason exhaled quietly, his posture relaxing slightly as the tension eased. He turned back to you, his grin returning as he leaned closer. “Your family certainly knows how to make an impression.”

You shot him a look, your irritation clear. “You handled that better than I expected.”

“I’m full of surprises, my lady,” Jason said, his tone light but his gaze lingering on Daemon at the far end of the table. “But don’t worry—I don’t scare easily.”

The music shifted, a lively tune softening into a graceful melody as the musicians signaled the start of the bride and groom's first dance. The murmurs of the gathered guests hushed, all eyes turning toward you and Jason. You barely had time to steady yourself before Jason stepped forward, his hand extended toward you with a dramatic flourish.

"Shall we, Princess?" he asked, his grin as confident as ever, the gleam in his eyes daring you to refuse.

You sighed softly, taking his hand. "Must you make everything into a spectacle?"

Jason chuckled, leading you toward the center of the hall where the dance floor was cleared. "Of course. What's the point of being married to a Targaryen princess if I can't bask in the envy of the entire realm?"

As you reached the center, Jason pulled you close, one hand resting firmly on your waist while the other clasped your hand. The music swelled, and he guided you into the first steps of the dance with practiced ease. His movements were smooth, confident, and precise, his natural charisma radiating as the gathered lords and ladies watched with admiration.

"You’re enjoying this far too much," you muttered under your breath, your lips barely moving as the two of you began to twirl gracefully.

Jason leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. "And why shouldn’t I? The finest woman in Westeros is in my arms, and the entire hall is watching as I claim her."

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth of his gaze made it hard to maintain your irritation. "You’re incorrigible."

"And you love it," he replied smoothly, spinning you gently before pulling you back into his arms, closer this time. His hand at your waist tightened slightly as he bent his head to whisper in your ear. "Later, when we're alone and naked, I’ll find out what’s really bothering you."

Your steps faltered slightly, and you shot him a sharp look, your cheeks flushing. "Do you ever think about anything else?"

Jason grinned, unrepentant. "It’s been some time since our last encounter, my dear wife. Can you blame me for missing you?"

"Jason," you hissed, glancing around to ensure no one could hear. "Focus on the dance."

He chuckled softly, his green eyes gleaming with amusement as he effortlessly guided you through another turn. "I am focusing. You, however, seem... distracted. Is something troubling you? Perhaps you didn’t like the preparations I made for the ceremony?"

You shook your head, your tone curt but not unkind. "It’s nothing like that. The ceremony was... perfect."

Jason arched a brow, clearly intrigued by your choice of words. "Then what is it, Princess? I’ve seen you mask your emotions before, but tonight, you’re slipping. Tell me."

"I said it’s nothing," you replied firmly, though your voice softened slightly as you added, "Just focus on your steps, Jason. This is our first dance as husband and wife, and I’d rather not trip because of your incessant questions."

Jason laughed quietly, the sound warm and rich, his grip on you steady as he pulled you even closer. "As you command, my lady. But don’t think for a moment that I’m letting this go."

The music swelled, the melody wrapping around you both as the dance carried on. Jason’s charm and confidence remained unwavering, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and something deeper. For all his teasing, there was a genuine curiosity and concern in his eyes—a determination to understand you, even if he masked it with his usual arrogance.

As the song drew to a close, Jason spun you one final time, his movements graceful and deliberate before pulling you back into his arms. The crowd erupted into applause, and Jason’s grin widened as he leaned down to murmur, "You danced beautifully, my wife. Perhaps we should practice more often."

The celebrations carried on with unrelenting vigor. The great hall of Casterly Rock had transformed into a living tapestry of merriment, with laughter, music, and clinking goblets reverberating off the high stone walls. Plates were scraped clean of rich venison and seasoned boar, goblets were refilled endlessly with wine from the Arbor, and dancers spun across the floor in dizzying displays of grace and joy. Jason had spared no expense for this night—it was a feast that would live on in Westerlands lore.

At the head table, Jason was unmistakably in his element, basking in the energy of the room, the center of attention without ever appearing to demand it. Lords and ladies clustered near to exchange pleasantries and sing their praises of the match. Jason, seated beside you, answered every word with wit and charm, his golden presence infectious.

You sat poised, regal as always, though a touch of weariness pressed at your edges, masked behind a polite smile. You sipped at your watered wine, letting the hum of voices wash over you, until Jason’s hand suddenly covered yours on the table.

“Now, now, Princess,” Jason murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear, though the glimmer in his green eyes betrayed something mischievous. “I see that look in your eye. You’re not allowed to disappear into your head—not tonight.”

Before you could respond, he shot up to his feet, goblet in hand, his golden tunic catching the light of the chandeliers. The music softened, and all attention swung to him as he raised his arms dramatically.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called out, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. “It’s not a Lannister feast without something to make you remember it! I would have you all witness a show of true Westerlands tradition.”

A small entourage of Lannister retainers stepped into the hall, carrying with them what looked like an enormous gilded chest, its hinges and seams glinting in the candlelight. Whispers rose as the retainers carefully placed the chest near the center of the hall, before stepping back and bowing deeply. Jason, his grin irrepressible, glanced down at you with a sparkle of mischief.

“You’re going to love this, wife,” he murmured, clearly pleased with himself.

You arched an eyebrow, wary. “Or regret marrying you.”

Jason chuckled, raising his goblet again for the room. “As a gift to celebrate my new bride—who carries fire in her veins, a dragon at her command, and the patience to endure me—I offer a piece of Casterly Rock itself. A token of what it means to be Lady of the Rock.”

With an exaggerated flourish, Jason stepped toward the chest and opened it with both hands. The hall gasped as the lid swung back to reveal a cascade of treasure—gold coins, ornate jewelry, goblets adorned with rubies, and what looked like a crown carefully nestled atop it all.

“The finest spoils of the Westerlands,” Jason declared, spreading his arms theatrically. “Gold from the depths of the Rock itself! A Lannister’s pride to share with his Targaryen princess.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, the nobles clearly entertained by Jason’s grand gesture. From where you sat, the display seemed impossibly extravagant, even for him. You gave him a pointed look as he returned to your side, his grin sharp and triumphant.

“You brought out an entire chest of treasure?” you asked, the faintest hint of amusement creeping into your tone. “Are you expecting me to melt it down for Morrath to nest in?”

Jason laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. “Hardly. I just wanted everyone here to know that no expense will be spared for you. Lady Lannister deserves nothing but the very best.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as his gaze met yours. “Admit it, you’re impressed.”

You shook your head, though the edges of your mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “You’re a fool, Jason Lannister.”

“Ah,” he replied smoothly, raising his goblet to you, “but I’m your fool now, am I not?”

The crowd, still caught up in the excitement, had begun to chant: “To the Lady of the Rock! To House Lannister! To fire and gold!”

King Viserys beamed from his seat, clearly pleased with the display, and even Rhaenyra, her arms crossed as she watched, seemed to be struggling to suppress a grin.

Jason stood again, pulling you up with him as the cheers grew louder. “Come now, Princess,” he said, his tone teasing but warm. “You cannot scowl at me forever. Smile for your subjects.”

You shot him a narrowed look but allowed him to keep your hand in his as the crowd roared its approval. Jason lifted your joined hands into the air, his voice cutting above the noise. “To my wife! May this union bring fire to the Rock and gold to the dragon!”

The room erupted once more, goblets raised high in a raucous cheer. Jason turned to you, his voice low and smug. “There. Now they’ll speak of us for decades.”

You tilted your head, your eyes meeting his with quiet amusement. “And you couldn’t resist showing off, could you?”

Jason smirked, unrepentant. “Never. Not when it’s you I’m showing off for.”

You sighed, though you couldn’t hide the faint blush at the sincerity lacing his words. The music swelled again, the revelry continuing in full force as Jason guided you back to your seat, satisfied with yet another dramatic display. He basked in the admiration, but his gaze rarely left you, his expression one of undeniable pride.

For all his bravado, there was something deeply genuine in the way he looked at you tonight—as though he’d truly won his greatest treasure of all.

Jason, ever the showman, looked entirely at ease, grinning as he accepted praise from every corner of the room. But amidst the revelry, something shifted—a sharp, guttural sound that did not belong in the din of celebration.

The hall fell into a slow, uneasy hush as a deep growl echoed across the stone walls.

You turned your head sharply, your heart dropping as you realized where the sound had come from. One of the gilded cages in the far corner of the hall—housing a live lion, one of Jason’s “grand Lannister touches” for the evening—sat disturbingly empty. The latch dangled open, and the heavy bars were swung wide. A ripple of dread spread through the gathered crowd as the lion, a massive beast, prowled into view, its eyes fixed on the nearest cluster of nobles.

“Jason,” you hissed, your voice sharp and low, though panic was creeping into it. “What have you done?”

Jason’s smirk dropped instantly, his eyes snapping to the freed lion. “Gods,” he muttered, his hand shooting to your wrist. “Stay close.”

The lion let out a thunderous roar, its voice vibrating through the very air. Screams erupted as guests stumbled back, goblets crashing to the floor as chaos took hold. Some fled the tables while others froze, paralyzed by fear as the great beast stepped forward, its claws clicking ominously on the polished stone.

Jason wasted no time. He yanked you against his chest, his arm coming around you in a protective hold. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice sharp with authority.

“What were you thinking, caging that thing here?” you demanded breathlessly, though the accusation was muffled against his chest as he shielded you.

Jason shot a frantic glance to the guards, barking orders over the noise. “Get it back in the cage! Now!”

The lion, however, was beyond anyone’s control. It snarled, baring teeth longer than daggers as it stalked toward the nearest table, upending platters of food and scattering nobles in its path. The crowd surged, bodies pressing together in a desperate attempt to get clear.

At the far end of the hall, Daemon Targaryen stood, untouched by the chaos, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. While others screamed and cowered, Daemon watched the scene as if it were a farcical play for his amusement.

“Of course,” Daemon drawled loudly, stepping forward, his tone carrying across the hall. “Leave it to the Lannisters to let their pride run wild.”

The lion turned sharply at the sound of his voice, growling deep in its throat. Daemon’s smirk only widened. He unsheathed his sword, Dark Sister, the Valyrian steel catching the light of the chandeliers.

Jason swore under his breath, still holding you firmly. “That madman is going to get himself killed.”

But Daemon didn’t flinch. He stepped calmly into the lion’s path, the blade gleaming in his hand. The lion roared again, lunging toward him with terrifying speed.

It happened in the blink of an eye. Daemon sidestepped effortlessly, his sword flashing through the air in a deadly arc. The sound of steel slicing flesh was unmistakable, followed by the dull thud of the lion collapsing to the floor. Blood pooled around the beast, its golden coat marred by a fatal gash across its neck.

For a moment, the hall was utterly still. Then, Daemon turned to the crowd, wiping the blood from Dark Sister with a calm, casual flick of his wrist. “You’re welcome,” he said dryly, his voice ringing out.

Jason exhaled sharply, his arm loosening around you as the tension broke. “Seven hells,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That man’s either a lunatic or a hero.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Jason with narrowed eyes. “You brought a lion into a hall full of people.”

Jason glanced at you, offering a weak but charming grin. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Did it?” you shot back, incredulous. “You’re lucky we’re still alive.”

Daemon approached then, his expression one of smug amusement as he sheathed his sword. “Quite the spectacle, Lannister,” he said, his gaze flicking to Jason. “I didn’t realize you intended to turn your own wedding into a bloodsport.”

Jason straightened, regaining some of his composure. “I’ll admit, Prince Daemon, that was... unexpected.”

Daemon snorted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Unexpected? Next time, try to avoid showcasing live beasts unless you’re willing to handle them yourself.”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but you cut in, shooting Daemon a sharp look. “Thank you for dealing with it, uncle.”

Daemon inclined his head slightly, clearly pleased with himself. “Anything for family,” he replied smoothly before turning back toward his seat, leaving the hall abuzz with murmurs and shaken laughter.

Jason turned to you, his grin sheepish but unrepentant. “Well,” he said, his tone light despite the chaos. “At least it’s a wedding they’ll never forget.”

You glared at him, though a reluctant smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. 

He brushed his knuckles against yours with infuriating confidence. “Don’t worry, wife. I’ll make sure the next lion stays firmly in its cage.”

“You had better,” you muttered, though as Jason leaned closer, his grin returned in full force.

“Besides,” he added with a smirk, his voice low, “it would not be the first beast you’ve tamed in this hall.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t fully suppress the faint laugh that escaped you. Even amidst chaos, Jason Lannister found a way to make himself insufferably charming.

The aftermath of the lion’s attack settled slowly, though the great hall was still buzzing with excited chatter and shaken laughter. Servants worked quickly to clean up the mess left in the beast’s wake, while the musicians began to play once more, their lively notes attempting to restore some semblance of calm.

King Viserys, seated at the high table, appeared determined to let nothing sour the celebrations. He raised his goblet high, a broad grin spreading across his face. “To the bride and groom!” he cheered, his voice booming through the hall. “And to the bedding! A fine tradition to end a fine day!”

The lords and ladies took up the chant eagerly, clapping and calling out with crude suggestions and raucous laughter. “To the bedding! Strip the bride and groom!”

Jason glanced at you with a smug grin, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. “It seems the king has spoken.”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks warming despite yourself. “Absolutely not,” you hissed under your breath.

Jason chuckled, rising from his seat with a smooth confidence that commanded the room’s attention. “Very well, very well,” he said aloud, spreading his arms in mock surrender to the roaring crowd. “But allow us some dignity, at least.”

The lords and ladies laughed, but they were not deterred. A group of eager young knights and drunken bannermen surged forward, intent on escorting you both out of the hall amidst jeers, cheers, and laughter.

Jason caught your hand firmly as he stood, helping you up from your seat. “Come along, wife,” he murmured softly, his tone carrying just enough authority to let you know he wouldn’t let the situation get out of control. “Let’s allow them their fun—for now.”

Your glare could have cut through Valyrian steel, but there was no stopping it now. The crowd cheered as you were both swept along, Jason’s protective hold never faltering as hands reached playfully to tug at ribbons and unlace cloaks. Your face burned as the chorus of taunts and cheers followed you all the way to the chambers Jason had prepared.

The moment the doors shut behind you with a heavy thud, Jason barked sharply, “Out. All of you.”

The crowd of attendants and bannermen faltered, startled by the sudden sternness in his voice. He turned, fixing them with a look that brooked no argument. “You’ve had your fun. Now leave us.”

The door guards hastily ushered everyone back out, the protests quieted by Jason’s firm glare. Within moments, the chambers were silent, and you exhaled slowly, your cheeks still flushed from the ridiculousness of it all.

“If you had let them tear off my dress entirely,” you said, turning toward him with a scowl, “I’d be a widow by morning.”

Jason turned to face you, his grin lazy and amused as he unpinned his cloak and let it drop to the floor. “A widow? Already? How cruel of you, wife.”

“I mean it,” you snapped, though your irritation only made his grin widen. “I would’ve strangled you with that damned cloak.”

He chuckled, closing the distance between you in a few unhurried steps. “As tempting as that would’ve been to see, I rather prefer you angry and clothed—though not for much longer.”

Before you could respond, his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as he dipped his head to kiss you. It wasn’t rushed or forceful but deliberate and slow, his lips warm and coaxing as they moved against yours. Your protest faltered, swallowed by the kiss as his hands moved up to cup your face.

When he pulled back, he looked down at you with that same smug confidence you had come to both despise and… tolerate. “Don’t look at me like that,” he teased softly, his voice dropping into something far smoother. “You knew exactly what would happen once we were alone.”

Your breath hitched slightly as his hands found the ties of your dress, working them loose with frustrating ease. “If you ruin this gown more—”

“I’ve no need to ruin it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he slipped the dress from your shoulders. “I’ve every intention of taking my time.”

You shivered, though you glared up at him. “I hate how always smug you are.”

“And yet,” he replied, his hands continuing their work, “here you are, letting me have my way again.”

Jason stripped the gown carefully, leaving it pooled around your feet, though he paused when his eyes landed on the necklace he had gifted you—the lion and dragon entwined, resting against your bare skin. He grinned faintly as he traced his finger along its chain. “This stays on,” he said softly. “A symbol, I think, of my victory.”

“You think far too highly of yourself,” you muttered, though your voice was breathless.

Jason smirked, beginning to strip away his own tunic and belt with the same deliberate ease. “Perhaps. But I’ll have all the time I need to convince you otherwise.”

He stepped closer again, guiding you gently back toward the enormous bed that dominated the chambers. The room was beautifully reimagined—rich Lannister reds mingling with touches of dragon-inspired gold and black. A fire roared in the massive hearth. The warmth of it seemed to mirror the heat in Jason’s gaze as he looked at you.

“You’ve made your point,” you muttered, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on him as he finally shed the last of his clothing.

Jason smirked, closing the final distance between you as he kissed you again—slower this time, deeper. When he finally pulled back, his hands sliding around your waist, his voice was low and rough with intent.

“I don’t plan to let you leave this chamber for a week,” he murmured against your lips. “Not until I’ve proven just how pleased I am to call you mine.”

Jason guided you back until your knees met the edge of the bed, his hands warm and steady as they roamed your body with slow purpose. The crimson and gold canopy of the bed loomed above, its sheer curtains shifting gently in the firelit room. He kissed you deeply as he lowered you onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the plush bedding, his weight pressing into you with a mix of possession and reverence. His mouth traced a path along your neck, his breath hot against your skin, leaving behind a trail of shivers.

His voice, deep and ragged, broke the silence as he leaned over you. “You’re mine now, Princess. Every inch of you.”

There was something different in his touch tonight—something softer but no less intense. Jason moved deliberately, parting your legs and positioning himself with a grace that belied the hunger in his gaze. His green eyes searched yours for the briefest moment, as if ensuring you were here, present, and his. And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he sank into you.

The joining was as familiar as it was consuming, your bodies falling into an easy, practiced rhythm that spoke of all the times he had learned the shape of you. The heat between you grew quickly, building with each movement as Jason set a pace that was confident and commanding but filled with something deeper—a tenderness that had not been there before.

But as the passion burned, his gaze lingered on you, and that familiar sharpness returned to his voice as he murmured against your ear. “Something’s been troubling you, Y/N. Since the moment you stepped through the gates of the Rock.”

You tried to ignore the question, arching your back as his movements sent waves of pleasure rolling through you, but Jason was relentless. His hand brushed down your side, gripping your hip firmly as his thrusts slowed to match his words. “Tell me,” he insisted softly. “What is it?”

Your movements faltered, your body tensing slightly as you bit down on your lower lip. Jason’s gaze never left yours, his eyes holding a patient, unyielding demand for the truth.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, but your voice trembled slightly, betraying you.

Jason tilted his head, a small smile ghosting his lips as his hand slid up to rest gently against your cheek. “You’re not a very good liar, wife. Out with it.”

His tone was softer than you expected, and the warmth of his touch paired with the intimacy of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer. You swallowed, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your chest. Finally, you whispered, “I’m with child.”

Jason froze, his movements halting entirely. His gaze sharpened, eyes flickering between your face and the slight swell of your abdomen, as if seeing it for the first time. Slowly, he moved his hand from your cheek down to rest against your lower belly. His palm pressed there gently, reverently, feeling for something that could not yet fully be seen.

There was a moment of stillness, broken only by the sound of your breathing and the crackle of the fire. “You’re certain?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though he were struggling to comprehend it.

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jason’s hand lingered there for a moment longer, his thumb brushing faint circles against your skin. Then, to your shock, his other hand slid lower, down between your bodies where you were still joined. His fingers moved deftly, pressing and teasing at the place where his body met yours, the sensation sending a sudden jolt of pleasure through you.

You gasped, your back arching as the tension in your body returned with a vengeance. “Jason—”

He didn’t stop. Instead, his eyes met yours again, filled with a new intensity, a new fire. “You’re carrying my child,” he said softly, his voice laced with wonder and pride. “My child.”

His hips began to move again, his thrusts deeper and more purposeful, matched by the way his fingers teased you, heightening every sensation. The pleasure that had dulled for a moment roared back with new fervor, your gasps turning into cries as he moved with deliberate skill.

“You’ve given me more than I ever dared ask for,” Jason whispered against your ear, his breath ragged as he picked up his pace. “And now I’ll give you everything.”

Your body responded to him instinctively, every nerve alight as the tension coiled inside you. The slow, deliberate rhythm he set combined with his touch to unravel you entirely. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure began to crest.

Jason watched you, his green eyes alight with a new sense of purpose, his movements never faltering. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and possession. “You, and the child you carry—you are everything.”

You cried out, your body shuddering beneath him as the release crashed over you, sharp and blinding. Jason followed moments later, his own groan rumbling low in his chest as he stilled against you, his body trembling with the force of it.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of your breathing, both of you gasping as the aftershocks rippled through you. Jason’s weight pressed against you, but his touch remained gentle as he kissed your temple, your jaw, your lips.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand returning to rest protectively against your lower abdomen. “You won’t leave this room for a week,” he declared, his voice husky but teasing now. “I mean it.”

You managed a breathless laugh, brushing your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Is that so?”

Jason grinned, pressing a kiss to your lips again. “You’re mine, Princess,” he murmured. “And I don’t plan to let you out of my sight.”

For once, you had no retort. You simply closed your eyes and let yourself melt into his embrace, the weight of his words and the reality of your future settling around you like a promise.

The morning light crept through the curtains of the newly appointed chambers at Casterly Rock, casting a soft glow over the expansive room. The crackling fire in the hearth had dimmed to embers, and the air still held the faint scent of roses and candle smoke from the previous night’s celebrations. Jason Lannister stirred, his gaze falling immediately to where you still lay beside him, wrapped in silk sheets that barely covered the curves of your bare form.

A rare softness crossed his features as he watched you sleep, your breathing deep and steady. The golden necklace—the one he had placed around your neck moons ago—rested against your skin, catching the sunlight. It made him grin, the sight of you wearing his colors so naturally. His wife.

There was a soft knock on the door, breaking the peaceful quiet. Jason scowled, running a hand through his tousled golden hair. “What?” he called, his voice low but sharp.

The door creaked open, and one of the servants poked his head inside nervously. “My lord, Ser Harrold is here to see you. He insists it is urgent.”

Jason muttered a curse under his breath, reluctantly rising from the bed. He grabbed his trousers from the nearby chair, pulling them on as he strode toward the door, his bare feet padding across the cold stone floor. He cast one final glance over his shoulder at you, still lost to sleep, your hair spread across the pillow like a halo. A smug satisfaction curled in his chest—he’d left you exhausted, exactly as he intended.

Jason cracked the door open, stepping out just far enough to face Ser Harrold, one of his more steadfast knights. The man was already clad in his armor, his stern expression giving no hint of hesitation as he bowed his head slightly.

“My lord,” Ser Harrold said, his tone clipped, “King Viserys requests your presence. Immediately.”

Jason sighed, clearly annoyed, running a hand along his jaw. “The king? Does it have to be this morning?”

Ser Harrold gave him an apologetic look. “It does, my lord. He is with his advisors, and it seems they wish to finalize matters regarding the marriage alliance.”

Jason glanced back into the room. Through the crack of the door, he caught a glimpse of you stirring slightly beneath the sheets before settling once more. He exhaled heavily, clearly reluctant to leave but already sorting his thoughts. “Fine,” he muttered, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll go see the king—but I won’t be gone long.”

Ser Harrold nodded, stepping aside as Jason ducked back into the chambers. He grabbed his tunic and cloak from where they had been carelessly discarded the night before, throwing them on hastily as the servants entered quietly. Jason shot the closest one a pointed glare. “Keep her undisturbed. She needs her rest.”

The servants bowed silently, bustling about the room as Jason tugged on his boots. He stole one last look at you before stepping out, muttering under his breath, “The king has terrible timing.”

The throne room at Casterly Rock had been transformed into an informal council chamber for King Viserys during his stay. The king sat comfortably at the head of a table, goblet in hand, his expression still jubilant from the previous night’s events. Several of his advisors were seated alongside him, including Otto Hightower, who sat with his usual cool composure, and Tyland Lannister, who appeared deep in quiet thought.

Jason entered the room with his typical swagger, bowing politely but not without a touch of impatience. “Your Grace,” he greeted, straightening. “I trust you slept as well as I did.”

Viserys laughed heartily, slapping the table with one hand. “Ah, Jason! You never fail to amuse. A fine feast, a magnificent wedding—what more could a king ask for?”

Jason smiled smoothly, stepping closer. “I’m pleased you think so, Your Grace. I take pride in making certain my guests are well cared for.”

Otto Hightower’s sharp voice cut through the pleasantries. “And so we turn to the matter of ensuring this marriage alliance benefits the realm as well as the Rock.”

Jason inclined his head, taking the seat offered to him. “Of course. My lady wife and I understand the significance of this union. House Lannister stands ready to fulfill its part.”

Viserys beamed, clearly still in high spirits. “Good, good! I have no doubt that this match will strengthen the bonds of the realm. After all, a Lannister with Targaryen blood—what could be a more fitting alliance?”

Jason nodded, though his gaze flicked to Otto for a moment, noting the man’s ever-watchful stare. “And what of the matters we discussed earlier, Your Grace? The arrangements for Morrath, the Dragonkeepers, and other logistics?”

Otto Hightower’s voice remained level. “The Dragonkeepers who arrived days ago will remain stationed here for the time being to oversee the care of the princess’s dragon. King Viserys has also decided that we shall remain in Casterly Rock for several more days to ensure everything proceeds smoothly.”

Jason blinked, surprise flickering briefly across his face. “Several more days?”

Viserys chuckled. “Yes, Jason! Do you not enjoy my company? I have no desire to rush back to the capital. Besides, Alicent enjoys the comforts of the Rock, and young Aegon seems enamored with the place.”

Jason recovered quickly, his smile returning as he leaned back slightly in his chair. “You honor me, Your Grace. Stay as long as you please—Casterly Rock is yours.”

Tyland Lannister, seated nearby, raised a brow but said nothing, clearly observing his brother’s quick adjustment.

Jason’s thoughts, however, were already elsewhere—specifically back in the chambers he’d left behind. He had little doubt you would wake soon, and the prospect of leaving you unattended for long didn’t sit well with him.

Viserys, oblivious to Jason’s wandering thoughts, lifted his goblet with a broad smile. “To House Lannister and House Targaryen—fire and gold, united at last!”

Jason raised his own goblet as the room echoed the toast. His smile was charming as ever, though in the back of his mind, he was already planning his escape from the council.

He had a princess to return to.

[mbruben-stein]

Thorin confessing his feelings and Courting Fem Hobbit S/O who is Bilbo's twin sister would include.

Thorin has developed feelings for S/O over the course of the quest. He admires her bravery, kindness, and quick wit, which reminds him of Bilbo but with a uniquely charming feminine energy.

One night at camp, Thorin asks to speak privately with S/O. Away from the others, beneath the stars, he somewhat awkwardly but sincerely confesses his growing affection for her.

"S/O, you've come to mean a great deal to me. More than I expected when you and your brother first joined our company. I've grown to admire you…and care for you deeply. I would be honored if you would allow me to court you, in the ways of our peoples."

S/O is surprised but overjoyed. She admits to harboring secret feelings for Thorin as well. With a radiant smile, she happily agrees to the courtship. "Of course, Thorin. Nothing would make me happier than to court you and see where this path leads us together."

As a mixed-race couple, Thorin and S/O make an effort to learn about and honor each other's courting traditions. They spend time sharing stories of typical hobbit and dwarven courtships. S/O tells Thorin about the hobbit custom of going for long walks together to get to know each other deeply. Thorin is happy to oblige, and they take frequent strolls through forests and meadows when the company makes camp, sharing stories and dreams.

Thorin shares that dwarves give special courtship braids and beads to their intendeds. S/O loves the idea and lets Thorin braid her hair, weaving in beautiful beads he crafted himself. She treasures this symbol of their connection.

S/O bakes Thorin an array of hobbit goodies as courtship gifts - honey cakes, pies, jams, etc. "The way to a dwarf's heart is through his stomach!" Thorin is touched by the care and effort she puts in.

In turn, Thorin hand-forges S/O a delicate locket engraved with dwarven love runes and places it around her neck. "This symbolizes that you hold my heart, ghivashel." S/O tears up at the romantic gesture.

They continue to exchange traditional gifts, take long walks, and steal kisses beneath the stars as their love deepens on the journey. The company teases them good-naturedly.

S/O and Thorin dream of uniting their worlds in marriage someday - a grand hobbit wedding feast flowing seamlessly into a dwarven celebration. Two cultures and hearts intertwined as one.

[scarletttries]

What One Piece Characters Are Like In A Relationship...(Part Two)

Request: "Greetings, could I ask for headcanons of what Buggy the Clown and Dracule Mihawk are like in a relationship?"

Pairings: Buggy x Reader, Mihawk x Reader, Shanks x Reader

Part One (The Straw Hats) here / One Piece Masterlist

Buggy the Clown:

- It's impossible to overestimate the sheer vulnerability it took for Captain Buggy to speak genuinely and honestly when he finally confessed his feelings for you. A man who's spent so much of his life hidden behind a painted facade and a wicked smile, he tried to fight his truth for so long, forcing himself to treat you like just another pirate on his ship when there's nothing you could do that wouldn't stand out to him. The sincerity with which you speak to him, the way you don't gawk at his appearance, the fact that you never engage in the mutinous whispers of those around you. It wasn't long until you became his most called upon ally on the ship, through genuine appreciation for your insights but also his intense need to have his eyes on you at all times.

- With his feelings out in the open, Buggy is still conflicted in the way he showers his affections upon you. Behind closed doors the man is your personal jester, cracking jokes and using his gifts to keep you smiling and entertained constantly. Honestly that man would do anything to keep you looking at him, the warmth of your gaze enough to undo decades of cruelty and ridicule.

- Around the crew though, your captain likes to keep his adoration discrete. There are a lot of people out there that would love to have something they could use against him, and he knows deep down he'd surrender everything he's ever worked for if it stopped a single hair on your head being harmed. So despite how Buggy feels like he is bursting at the seams with joy every time he sees you, he insists on keeping things a secret for as long as the two of you can, lasting on longing looks and subtle contact for the price of your safety.

- That does add a certain desperation to the clown's behaviour towards you though, not that you mind. The moment you close a door he'll be on with you in a flash, all hungry lips and pressing his chest flush with yours to bathe in your warmth while he still can. He needs you overwhelming all of his senses, to fill his heart back up before he has to face the day without you again. Sometimes when he knows you'll be apart for a while, he'll tell the crew he's lost a hand somewhere on the ship so he can leave one tucked securely in your pocket, subtly interlacing his fingers with yours whenever the day gets to be too much; the powers he once feared made him a devil, now giving him the chance to stay by an angel's side forevermore.

Dracule Mihawk:

- A life as the world's greatest swordsman can be a lonely one. Going wherever he's paid to go. Never putting down roots. Knowing that one day he might just find someone desperate enough for his title to kill for it. Mihawk had accepted this life with a certain pride, until he found something else he wanted to be the best at.

- Another night in another island bar had his path crossing with yours, the briefest of exchanges leaving an aching hole in his chest like he'd never experienced before. It was like your smile sent a spark his way that had his whole body going up in smoke, a fire lit inside him that he had only felt once before; for his pursuit of swordsmanship. He knew nothing would quell that desire except giving in fully to the devotion.

- Dracule is extremely attentive to your every whim. He's never really been tied down before he enjoys the grounding that comes from having someone else to influence each of his days. Nothing fulfils him like making one of your wishes come true, his dedication to your partnership unwavering no matter what the world throws at you both.

- He would take enormous pride in teaching you a few of his sword-fighting moves, framing the sessions as just a way to share in his two favourite things (swords and you), but in the back of his mind also very conscious that a time may come when you need to defend yourself from his enemies. Naturally he'll find a way throw your practice fights so the two of you end up on the floor together, his sword cast aside as he exclaims that you are the only person in all the seas that has ever disarmed him so. Don't be expecting to leave that floor for a while once he has you in his grips.

Shanks:

- When you work in a popular port town you see a lot of pirates come and go. So it's pretty noticeable when a certain captain seems to do all his supply runs in your specific shop. Shanks is not at all subtle that he's continually coming to town for you, your first conversation enough for him to reveal that you might be the only person he's ever met that could convince him to give up the pirate life and settle down.

- You don't ask him to do that, instead the two of you settle for frequently being apart, but relishing in every second you get to spend together when you can. Every moment that Shanks is in your life is filled with fun, whether he's just dancing with you in your lovely little home, or convincing you to come with him on this next adventure, heading to a beautiful island where for once he's confident there's no risk of danger to you.

- When you have to be apart, Shanks will call you late in the night, narrating the view from his perch on the figurehead of his ship. He'll describe every detail of the stars glistening on the waves until the peachy rays of the sun trickle across the horizon, all while knowing the far superior view is wherever you are. He'll never reveal the true danger of his journeys to you, instead giving you joyful reimaginations of the troubles he's faced that day. You can tell when he's had a hard week from the pain in his voice though, so you take the chance to regale him with the softness of your peaceful day, recounting your every step and listening to his breathing slow as a weight lifts off his chest. He tells you how one day he can't wait to dock his ship one final time and fall in step with the life you've built, never having to hear your voice from so far away again.

- He lets that hope carry him through the most tempestuous nights at sea, through all the near misses at the hands of his enemies, through every day spent hiding from a bounty hunter and aching to hear your voice again. He finds himself picturing the two of you raising a family, a tiny crew of your own that will always unite you, the ultimate adventure Shanks can imagine, and one he never thought he'd long for until he thought about living it hand in hand with you.

One piece requests still open!

[discotenny]

Someone you cant have

HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLO :D god its been so long for me to check ur blog and i have been meaning to send rq form last year but sadly i was to shy for that :,) im so happy ur still uploading and doing well 😭 but may i request a reverse part for "Someone you cant have" now with akechi ?

~anon

Goro Akechi x Reader ~ falling for their rivals significant other <Jealousy, mild reference of yandere!Akechi, mentions of murder, etc>

KABDKDBDK thank you for sending in a request!! Sorry to keep you waiting for part two after all this time lolol. Hope it was worth the wait <3 As always I tend to write using they/them pronouns for the reader insert unless requester specifies. Mentions of names will be y/n.

———

Something about you had captivated him from the first meeting.

A stranger who sat next to him on the train when there were tens of open seats. Who looked at him with eyes that begged for help from a creep following you around. Who whispered a promise of a warm meal once the whole debacle concluded. Who he willingly went into the streets of Shibuya with, against all his mind and stomach's better judgement.

"Thank you," you said to him with the most sincerity he's ever heard from a person. "I couldn't make it up to you enough. Where do you want to go? I’ll pay for everything.”

Sincerity... that's what it was.

You were so open and true to yourself it was almost frustrating. He chalked up your kindness at your first meeting as a one off instance brought about by unsavory circumstance. But even after, at your unexpected dinner for two- you were just so, so honest.

Honest in the way you expressed the troubles in your family life. The difficulty handling the troubles in your school. The troubles of romance you've found yourself in. You were charming. Funny. Interesting.

Which is why he didn’t mind exchanging phone numbers. It’s why he didn’t mind more dinners and more train rides. It’s why he didn’t push away the kindness you’d show him and the gifts you’d give him. It’s why he started reciprocating the acts.

And it’s why a funny feeling started to grow in the hole in his chest- fighting against the urge to put all of his attention into his mission. Interest- is what he called it.

Love, is what it really was.

When you mentioned a boyfriend he was disappointed. He of course saw it coming, after you’ve spent nights complaining over growing feelings and him giving you advice in turn. But Akechi was fine with the disappointment, and he was fine admiring you from nowhere closer than across a table. Akechi would be fine just admiring from a distance.

Coming soon, he’d complete his mission and he would never see you again. Akechi chooses to ignore the bitterness that comes along with that last idea.

The more the dinners and gifts and kindness occurred, the harder his fall was to ignore. His gifts started to get more and more romantic when viewed from a certain lens, his stares started to get more and more longing. But as noticeable as it was, Akechi couldn’t help himself. You, in all of your kindness, funniness, and all of your interest, were a brevity of light in his hell of a life.

-

One night, you show up to dinner and say you’ve got a surprise for him.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” A butterfly flies around in his chest and he can’t help himself but smile. Sincerely, he smiles.

“I wanted to thank you, for all the advice and help you’ve given me these past few months,” you look into his eyes and it makes his heart flutter. “Let me go get him really quick.” You stand up so quickly and he doesn’t have any time to register what you just said. Akechi sighs as he watches you leave the restaurant.

You come back and Akechi has to physically hold himself back from lunging at Ren.

Ren, who you hold hands with. Ren, who’s smiling after you. Ren, who looks at him with surprise. Ren, you boyfriend.

“Akechi?” He says, eyes widening.

“Ren.” He replies, gripping the table underneath him.

Of course.

Of course

Of fucking course.

“Oh! I didn’t know you guys knew each other,” you clap your hands with a smile, seemingly not noticing the glares emanating from Akechi.

Ren’s arm finds itself on your waist and Akechi wants to scream. “Yeah, we’re friends,” Ren’s tone is casual as he smiles at you.

“Mmhm, you could say that,” Akechi forces out a smile so insincere you can’t help but question it.

“I didn’t know Akechi was the one buying you all those gifts, treasure,” Ren says.

“And I didn’t know Ren was this boyfriend of yours, y/n,” Akechi sneers.

“Ah, sorry I never mentioned names to you guys,” you chuckle, honest to a fault. Unaware of the smugness growing within your partner. Unaware of the heartbreak that falls upon your friend.

Ren goes onto explain that you wanted to introduce your ‘two favorite boys’ to each other after months of talking about one to the other. That this dinner, which was supposed to just be you and Akechi, was going to be intruded on by Ren. He says it all with a smile that makes Akechi want to throttle him.

What a lovely surprise, Akechi thinks.

He tries to keep his cool despite the anger clawing at his chest. Betrayal from you for not telling him that this piece of garbage was your boyfriend. Envy towards Ren for having yet another thing Akechi longed to have.

Dinner concludes quicker than you pictured as Ren has a curfew to abide by. He leaves the restaurant to wait outside, you wanting to talk to your friend.

“You seemed uncomfortable with tonight, I’m sorry if I pushed this on you Akechi…” one glance at you shows all the truth in your statement and Akechi hates it.

He hates that he’s let himself trust in your honesty, in your gifts, in your dinners, in your kindness- he hates your truth and he hates this clawing in his chest.

But what kind of friend would he be if he left you feeling so guilty? After all, you’d just run into his arms afterwards.

“I was just surprised, is all. I’m sorry that I made you upset,” Akechi smiles, insincere once again.

“Are you sure?” You look at him with the most curious eyes, “I’m sorry if I made things weird by introducing him, really.”

“Please, don’t worry about it,” Akechi attempts to console you by putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m just happy you’re happy. After all this time of complaining, haha.”

Your hand meets his and squeezes it slightly. “Thanks Akechi, it really means a lot.”

He takes one more look at you, holding his hand and smiling so, so genuinely at him.

“Anytime, y/n,” He says.

You leave the restaurant with Ren and he sees him pull you tight as you walk away. He sees the way you stare at him, lovingly, in a way that you’ve never looked at him. He sees you go to intertwine your hands. He sees Ren hold your chin and bring your face closer. Akechi looks away.

Admiring a distance is bullshit if he’s just watching you be stolen away by him. Admiring from a distance would be fine if it was anyone other than him.

It’s just gonna be one more reason as to why he needs to plant a bullet in your boyfriend’s skull.

———

Ren's part, it kinda sucks because it was before my writers glow up ehehehhehehe

Hope you enjoyed it! I got so excited writing for my pookie Akechi that I ended up finishing this in an afternoon lolol. Also I ended up placing an order for persona merch because of this JFDSJJKFADSFJ. I just love my baby he's my forever boy &lt;3

Let me know how you guys think I characterized him!! I love my babby rsfwaeajfjrewo

[ellegenerico]

Memora

Pairing: Rogue/Gambit

Rating: T

Synopsis: It’s New Year’s Eve and Rogue has a brief reflection of her first married year with Remy. Short, fluffy and sweet.  Author’s Note: My late gift to @rogueemberlight for the Romy fic gift exchange! She had requested a Romy first Christmas fic with traditions but I hope you don’t mind the twist! 😉 It’s been a while so my writing is a little rusty but I sincerely hope you enjoy! ❤️

On the rooftop, Rogue gazed up at the evening sky, her breath escaping in soft puffs of vapor that dissolved into the frigid air. The cold didn’t bother her—she had dressed warmly, anticipating a long stretch of solitude under the stars before the celebrations would begin.

The rooftop of their new apartment offered a quiet retreat, a vantage point to take in the city’s vibrant energy below. The city below was alive, buzzing with energy. The hum of celebration drifting upward—cheers, laughter, and the occasional burst of firecrackers punctuating the night. 

It was New Year’s Eve, and the night where the world seemed caught between the old and the new.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she looked beyond the clouds, past the moon’s pale glow. What a year it had been. A whirlwind. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Rogue let out a quiet chuckle—eventful was putting it lightly.

Rogue had come to realize that Kitty Pryde may inadvertently have had a lot to do with where she and Remy are today. There was that mission. One Kitty had orchestrated. Sending her and Remy to a couples therapy retreat. Of all places. At first, the mere idea had irritated her—therapy? And with him? After everything? Yet, in some odd, messy way, it had worked. They’d unpacked their baggage—and found themselves closer than they’d ever thought possible.

Though she definitely didn’t imagine “getting closer” would involve clones, emotional landmines, and nearly losing their lives and powers in the process. “Classic us,” she mused with a shake of her head. 

And then, it happened.

What had started as a celebration for Kitty and Piotr’s wedding turned into something entirely different. They’d arrived as guests, only to find themselves at the center of a ceremony of their own. In a single, unplanned moment, the day transformed into something neither of them had foreseen—yet it felt undeniably right. 

Remy had proposed to her.

There was no hesitation on her part. It was an immediate yes, regardless of how crazy it may have been. She couldn’t have been happier for it.

Rogue glanced down at her left hand, a soft smile spreading across her face as the glimmer of the band on her ring finger caught the light. What had started as the most spontaneous of decisions had turned into one of the most beautiful, unforgettable moments of her life.

Even their honeymoon, meant to be a quiet escape, had turned into yet another adventure—this time in space, thanks to Kitty once again. “There really is no such thing as uneventful with the LeBeaus,” Rogue mused, the corners of her mouth lifting. Although she was sure that Deadpool crashing it didn’t quite put Remy in the best of moods.

Amid the chaos, however, her powers had spiraled out of control, wild and unpredictable, leaving her uncertain if she’d ever regain command. Insecurity had crept in, familiar and unwelcome. Yet, no matter how turbulent things became, and now matter how much she retreated back into pushing him away, he had never left her side. 

And now here she was, standing on the edge of a year that hadn’t defeated her.

She thought back to all those moments that now brought her on this rooftop. A place where she calls home. It hadn’t been easy—it had stretched her, scarred her, and shaped her—but it had brought her here. To this rooftop. To this home. To him. He’d once told her she was his home, and now she knew the truth of those words. 

“The cats are all settled,” his voice broke through her brief thoughts, “We also can’t forget the champagne,” 

She turned to Remy with a smirk, watching him slip through the rooftop window with effortless grace. “He’s such a cat dad,” she thought, stifling a laugh. But deep down, she couldn’t deny it—she’d come to love Figaro, Oliver, and Lucifer just as much so. “And I’m definitely a cat mom,” she added silently.

Remy emerged fully, his usual trench coat draped over him, though the layers beneath hinted at the chill of the night. In one hand, he balanced two empty flutes and a bottle of champagne, his movements smooth and confident, as if the cold air didn’t dare touch him.

“Wouldn’t want to tempt bad luck, Cajun,” she teased.

Remy handed an empty flute towards her, “Well, good thing we’ve got this extra bottle left over from our wedding, non?”

Her brow arched playfully. “Did the bartenders not notice you swiping that?”

“The bartenders were definitely not looking,” he laughed, popping the cork with a practiced ease. The champagne bubbled into her glass, then his, as he set the bottle carefully on the ground.

“You just couldn’t resist stealing something on our actual wedding day?” she laughed, shaking her head in amused disbelief.

“Can’t let a bottle this good go to waste,” he added with a playful wink, “ ‘sides it’s vintage.”

Rogue shook her head, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he quipped without missing a beat, his grin as mischievous as ever.

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her, “I do.”

He gave her cheeky smile, before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“Black-eyed peas are done?” she asked, her voice muffled slightly against his chest as she snuggled closer to him.

He nodded, his grin never wavering. “With greens, of course. Gotta cover all our bases.”

Rogue stepped closer, nestling into his side as his arm wrapped around her, the warmth of the moment chasing away the winter chill. “As much as I love traditions,” she murmured, “I have to admit, Remy, I was starting to think they didn’t work.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair, letting his lips linger for a moment. “Didn’t you tell me you skipped your usual traditions last year?”

Her gaze lifted to meet him, a playful glint in her eyes. “Yes, ‘cause I decided to try something new.”

“And what was that?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I ate 12 grapes. Under a table. Bumped my head by accident afterwards. Also left my place a mess ‘cause supposedly it’s bad luck to clean it on New Year’s Day.”

Remy chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Ha! And look what that got you—a new husband.”

Rogue grinned, her fingers brushing his cheek. “And a new tradition, sugah.”

“Funny,” he teased, tilting his head with a smirk. “Didn’t see you crawling under a table tonight with your grapes.”

“That's not what I meant,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but failing to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “And, just so you know, I don’t think I can handle another messy New Year’s Day living space so I cleaned yesterday.”

“Quoi? Already forgetting the mountain of clothes on the floor?” he teased, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

She raised a brow, “What mountain of clothes?”

He leaned in with a wink. “I'm talking about the pile of clothes that’ll be on the floor later, chère. If you catch my drift.”

She met his gaze, her grin widening. “Well... I did say something about starting a new tradition.”

Before Remy could fire back another playful remark, the crowd below erupted in excitement, their voices rising in a jubilant wave. The countdown began, each number echoing through the crisp night air. Smiling, Rogue and Remy began to join in, their anticipation growing with every beat, their shared energy crackling like the fireworks soon to come.

“THREE!”

“TWO!”

“ONE!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”

They raised their glasses, the soft clink of crystal marking the start of something new.

A whole new year. 

After taking a slow sip of their champagne, Remy turned to Rogue, his gaze soft but full of meaning. With a gentle touch, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary to caress her cheek. Rogue’s hand instinctively rose to meet his, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. She softened beneath his gaze, her heart racing as she leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and slow, carrying the unspoken promises of everything yet to come—and the weight of everything they’d already survived together.

Rogue leaned in close, her breath warm against Remy’s ear as she whispered huskily, “How about we see fireworks somewhere else, Cajun?” Her lips curled into a teasing smile, her fingers curling around his with a gentle pull.

Remy’s grin deepened, his heart racing at the promise in her voice. Without a word, he let her lead him back inside, the world around them fading into the background.

Above them, fireworks burst into vibrant blooms, painting the night sky with streaks of color. And neither of them looked up. For their focus remained solely on each other, celebrating the long and winding journey that had led them to finally find their way back home to each other.

—END—

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Sebastian's Offer (AKA Demand) | Sebastian Sallow x OC #13

buckle up this is a long INCREDIBLY TOOTHROTTING FLUFFY ONE.

Summary: Hogwarts empties for the winter holiday, Evangeline finds herself spending Christmas at Sebastian’s cozy cottage in Feldcroft after he surprises her, insisting she shouldn’t be alone. Their time together is filled with simple joys—exploring the snow-covered village, exchanging thoughtful gifts, and sharing quiet moments by the fire as they each struggle to keep their growing feelings in check.

Words: 12,922

Tags: FLUFF. BIG TIME FLUFF. Slow Burn, Friends To Lovers, Christmas, Romance, Soft Moments, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The bustling halls of Hogwarts had grown quiet, a peaceful stillness settling over the decorated common rooms and candlelit corridors as most students left for the holidays. Only a few remained, their footsteps faint echoes in the castle’s vast, snow-dusted expanse. Ominis had departed for London to spend the holiday with Anne, Sebastian had returned to Feldcroft, and Lysander had left early that morning.

For Evangeline, saying goodbye to her boyfriend should have been a moment to savor—a culmination of the closeness they’d been building over the past months. The night before, he’d surprised her, guiding her up the winding staircases to the Astronomy Tower for a private exchange of Christmas gifts under the stars.

She’d climbed the final stairs to find a picnic blanket spread across the stone floor, flanked by candles glowing warmly in the dark. A basket waited, filled with sweets and cocoa, and the faintly twinkling stars above cast a gentle light over them. The whole setup had been undeniably thoughtful, even romantic in its intention, and she’d felt a flutter of gratitude at the effort he’d put into planning it.

They’d settled in together, sharing quiet laughter and the soft clinks of cocoa mugs in the chilly air. Evangeline had given him her gift, a carefully selected book on magical creatures that she knew he’d wanted, and he’d thanked her warmly, brushing his fingers against hers in a soft, unhurried gesture before reaching for his own gift to her.

“Open it,” he’d said with an eager smile as he passed her the elegantly wrapped package. She’d carefully peeled back the layers of paper, revealing an ornate, glimmering necklace resting within a velvet-lined box. It was a beautiful, extravagant piece that sparkled with intricate stones and delicate, twisted chains.

“Oh, it’s…wow,” she’d murmured, running her fingers over the gemstones. It was dazzling, but so far from her style that it almost felt like someone else’s necklace entirely. She tried to imagine wearing it, the heavy gleam of the stones catching the light, but it felt too bold, too ornate.

Lysander’s eyes had shone with satisfaction, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew it was perfect for you the moment I saw it,” he’d said, leaning in to press a warm, brief kiss to her cheek.

She’d smiled back, the gratitude sincere, though there was a strange twist in her heart as she admired it. It was an undeniably generous gift, and she didn’t want to seem unappreciative. But try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the necklace was a little too extravagant, almost gaudy, for her taste. She wore jewelry sparingly, preferring simpler, understated pieces, and this necklace—stunning as it was—felt almost like it was meant for someone else.

Still, she’d thanked him, appreciating it nonetheless. This was a gesture of his affection, after all, and she chided herself for her own sense of dissatisfaction, for not simply being grateful for his thoughtfulness. Surely she could get used to it, she’d told herself, even enjoy the grandeur of it over time.

After the picnic, he’d walked her back to the Gryffindor Tower, his arm around her waist as they strolled through the emptying castle, her gift clasped carefully in her hands. When they reached the portrait hole, he had kissed her goodnight, the familiar warmth of his lips against hers a soft, reassuring presence. He’d whispered goodbye with a warm smile, his fingers grazing her cheek, “Have a lovely Christmas, Evangeline. I’ll be thinking of you.”

The moment should have left her glowing with contentment, the perfect close to their budding romance. But as she watched him walk away, a faint ache gnawed at her heart, an uneasy feeling she couldn’t ignore. Her mind drifted, unbidden, to memories of the Ball, of Sebastian’s steady hand in hers, his eyes searching hers as they’d danced.

It was wrong, she knew, to linger on thoughts of someone else while Lysander had gone to such lengths to make the night special. And yet, that ache lingered, that same gnawing, confusing pull toward thoughts of Sebastian that she couldn’t quite push away.

And this morning, while Evangeline sat on one of the plush couches, the last few students trickled out of the Gryffindor common room and the castle settled into its winter quiet. In the silence, she told herself she’d be fine spending Christmas alone, that she’d stay busy. She had plenty to do, after all—a Potions project to finish, a stack of library books waiting by her bed, and, tucked away in the bottom of her satchel, a book she’d impulsively bought on her last visit to Hogsmeade.... One of those intimacy books Sebastian had told her was stocked at Tomes and Scrolls.

The memory of that day in the bookstore came back to her vividly. She’d slipped inside, praying she wouldn’t be noticed by anyone she knew. Her face had burned as she’d picked up the thin, nondescript book, thumbing through its pages just long enough to confirm it was indeed filled with all the “detailed” advice Sebastian had hinted at. She hadn’t dared meet the shopkeeper’s eye as she’d purchased it, her cheeks hot as she mumbled a thank you and stuffed the book into her bag. She’d tucked it away when she got back to the castle, unable to summon the nerve to actually open it.

But now, with the castle empty and her only company a restless feeling she couldn’t shake, the book seemed like a good distraction—something she could read without interruption, maybe something to satisfy her curiosity. Taking a steadying breath, she reached into her satchel and pulled it out, the cover plain and unassuming. The title was innocent enough, “Intimacies and Affections: A Guide to Healthy Romances.” She ran her fingers over the smooth cover, her heart beating a little faster. Even though no one was around, she still felt self-conscious, as though someone might walk in at any moment and catch her.

Steeling herself, she wrapped herself up in blankets, stretching her toes towards the fire. She stared at the book for a long moment, and part of her was worried about what she’d find—if it would be embarrassing, if she’d feel foolish for wanting to understand more about things people like Sebastian seemed to know so effortlessly.

She was about to turn the first page when a loud banging sounded at the portrait hole.

She froze, her fingers gripping the edges of the book tightly. The banging continued, loud and insistent, echoing through the empty common room. Her heart leaped, and she quickly stashed the book behind a cushion, her face flushing as though someone had caught her red-handed.

The banging grew louder. Whoever it was wasn’t about to give up.

With a quick glance at the hidden book, she took a deep breath and crossed the room, pulling open the portrait hole. She hadn’t expected anyone she knew, least of all Sebastian Sallow, to be standing on the other side.

His face lit up the moment he saw her, shaking snow from his hair and his coat, his eyes glinting with a determination that almost startled her. “Evie,” he began, his voice a mix of insistence and a rare softness, “you’re not spending Christmas alone in this drafty tower. Pack a bag.”

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What? Sebastian, what are you doing here? I thought you went home?"

He crossed his arms, a determined glint in his eye. “I came back to get you, Sterling. You’re not staying here alone.” His tone softened, though the conviction remained. “Come to Feldcroft with me.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at her, took her by surprise. Her stomach twisted in a way that felt all too familiar. “Sebastian, I… I appreciate it, really, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Lysander…”

“Lysander’s gone home for the holidays, isn’t he?” Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s just Christmas with a friend. No harm in that.”

She hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as though searching for an excuse, but found none. The castle was empty, the quiet pressing in around them, and the thought of spending Christmas without anyone made her heart sink. And despite the conflict churning inside her, Sebastian’s warmth and the earnestness in his eyes made it hard to refuse.

“Come on, Evie,” he murmured, his voice softening, almost pleading. “It’s Christmas."

His gentle insistence broke down her resistance. She knew there was no way she could truly say no—not to Sebastian, and not when he was standing there, offering her a holiday break that was more than just her and a stack of unread books.

With a quiet sigh, she nodded, her heart pounding. “Alright. I’ll go pack.”

She turned to leave, letting the portrait swing behind her, but Sebastian called after her, leaning casually against the edge of the opening. “Are you really going to leave me standing out here, Evie? Do you need me to admit that I’ve always wanted to see the legendary Gryffindor common room?”

She paused, turning to give him an amused, slightly exasperated look. “Sebastian, I’m pretty sure you know that’s against every rule we have.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Rules, schmules. The way I see it, if they didn’t want Slytherins sneaking in, they should've made it harder to find the entrance,” he said, smirking. “Come on, you Gryffindors are always bragging about how cozy it is. I think it’s time I get a look for myself.”

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile, but stepped aside to let him through. “Fine. But if you tell anyone I let you in here, I'll hex you into next year."

Sebastian’s grin widened, clearly thrilled by her concession. “I’ll take that risk,” he said, stepping inside with the same casual confidence that seemed to accompany him everywhere.

The warmth of the Gryffindor common room enveloped him immediately, a stark contrast to the cooler, shadowed ambiance of the Slytherin dungeons. The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, casting a soft, golden light over the plush armchairs, the scarlet-and-gold tapestries, and the mistletoe that had been charmed to float just above the fireplace.

“Not bad at all,” he murmured appreciatively, his voice softened with something almost reverent. “It’s… different up here.”

Evangeline watched him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. She couldn't deny she quite liked seeing him in her world, here among the soft glow and rich colours that had become as much a part of her as her own heartbeat. She found herself smiling, despite herself, at the sight.

Sebastian caught her gaze, “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, chuckling, “It’s just… unusual, seeing you in here."

His smirk deepened as he moved closer, letting his fingers trail over the arm of a red armchair, as if savoring its plushness. "It's definitely a change from the Slytherin common room, but I admit, there’s something very cozy about it. It suits you.”

She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks at his words, brushing it off with a playful scoff. “Now you’re just trying to charm me. Be careful, or you’ll start thinking you actually like it here.”

He laughed, glancing around with a look that was almost fond. “Maybe I do. You Gryffindors might be onto something with all this… red and gold,” he admitted, “Certainly feels a lot more alive than the dungeons. But anyway, enough stalling, Evie. Go on—pack your things."

Evangeline chuckled, a warmth spreading through her at the teasing authority in his voice. With a playful eye-roll, she turned and hurried up the stairs to the dorms, her heart beating faster than it should as she grabbed her travel trunk and hurriedly tossed in clothes and essentials, too aware that Sebastian was still waiting below.

In record time, she was back down the stairs, breathless as she maneuvered her trunk into the common room. But she stopped short, her heart dropping as she took in the sight before her.

Sebastian was sitting comfortably on one of the couches by the fire, legs stretched out and posture relaxed, with her book resting in his hands. His brow was raised, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smirk, and his eyes danced with unmistakable mischief as he looked up at her.

Mortification spread through her, her face flushing hot. “Sebastian!” she sputtered, rushing over and snatching the book from his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He bit back a laugh, holding his hands up defensively. “Just reading the dedication page. Didn’t think you went in for this sort of literature.”

She hugged the book tightly to her chest, her eyes narrowing in embarrassed exasperation. “I can’t believe you—do you know how rude that is?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, "I'm the one who told you these books existed in the first place, Evangeline." he said, her name rolling off his tongue with a kind of playful insistence that made her stomach flip.

He rarely ever used her full name—only when he was either trying to make a point or when he was deadly serious. Each time he did, it sent her heart into a confusing tailspin, as if he was reaching past her defenses to tug on something deeper. Now was no different; hearing Evangeline instead of the casual Evie threw her off balance, adding to her already burning embarrassment.

Her cheeks warmed, and she struggled to hold her ground, clutching the book tightly to her chest as if it might shield her from his gaze. “That doesn’t give you permission to just pick it up and read it,” she replied, her voice coming out higher than she’d intended. “It’s private.”

Sebastian’s expression softened, the smirk fading into something almost understanding, though the humour remained in his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it—private. But you know,” he added with a grin, “I’m actually impressed. Didn't think you'd be brave enough to buy it.”

Her cheeks burned even hotter, and she fumbled for a response, her thoughts scattered. “Sebastian Sallow,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady, “if you ever bring this up again, I’ll—”

“—hex me into next year, yeah, I know.” He chuckled, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin.

Her heart did another strange flip, but she fought to ignore it, shooting him an exasperated look instead. “Enough of that. Are we going or not?”

With one last, unrepentant grin, Sebastian stood and grabbed her trunk, his hand brushing hers briefly as he hoisted it up. “Of course we’re going. As long as I'm around, you'll never spend another Christmas alone.”

As they stepped out of the Gryffindor common room and into the quiet, candlelit corridor, Evangeline let herself breathe a little easier, her cheeks cooling as the familiar, teasing banter with Sebastian settled into a comfortable silence. He kept her trunk balanced effortlessly, his stride purposeful as he led her toward the nearest Floo connection, his quiet confidence making her stomach flutter despite herself.

They reached the nearest fireplace, and he extended a hand, gesturing for her to go first with a slight smile. “Ladies first,” he said, his voice warm and steady, as if they weren’t about to make an impromptu trip halfway across the country.

With a soft laugh, she tossed the powder into the flames, calling out, “Feldcroft!” She stepped in and felt the familiar rush of spinning green flames before stumbling onto a cobbled street in the little village. The chilly winter air greeted her, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, glancing around.

To her surprise, the usually quiet village had taken on a festive charm for the holiday. Garlands hung between the street lamps, twinkling softly with enchanted lights, and small wreaths decorated the shop doors. The air smelled faintly of pine and something sweet, perhaps from a nearby bakery. It was simple but charming, and a smile crept over her face as she took it all in.

Sebastian appeared beside her in a swirl of green flame, and he noticed her smile, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “Nice, isn’t it? The locals put in a bit more effort around Christmas,” he said, glancing around.

Evangeline nodded, genuinely touched by the quaint scene. “It’s lovely. A bit different from Hogsmeade’s bustle, but it suits the place.”

Sebastian returned her smile, then nodded toward the familiar little cottage he called home. “Come on,” he said, his tone softening.

As they approached, Evangeline’s eyes drifted over the cottage. It looked to be in better shape than she remembered from her last visit. The old stone walls seemed newly cleaned, the windows freshly painted, and a soft glow emanated from within. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration—Sebastian had clearly put effort into maintaining it, something she hadn’t been sure he’d do.

“Have you been keeping it up on your own?” she asked, glancing over at him.

Sebastian shrugged, a casual smile tugging at his lips. “Well, it’s mine now. Didn’t see much point in letting it fall apart.”

Her heart warmed, a surge of affection rising in her chest as she looked at him. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

He held her gaze a moment longer than necessary, his smile softening. After a moment of fishing out a key and fiddling with the lock, he pushed the door open and stepped back to let Evangeline enter first.

She crossed the threshold, and the sight that greeted her left her momentarily speechless. The once-small, simple interior had been magically expanded, and a warmth filled the space as though it had been expecting her. What had once been a cramped sitting room was now a cozy yet spacious area with a wide hearth crackling with a welcoming fire, casting a golden glow over plush sofas and thick rugs in deep, warm tones. Strings of garlands and holly adorned the walls, twinkling with soft lights, and a small Christmas tree sat in the corner, decorated simply but beautifully with sparkling ornaments and a silver star on top.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. Sebastian grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction, "You like it?"

She stepped further into the room, taking in the small, thoughtful details—the knitted blankets on the back of the couches, the set of mugs by the hearth, and the scent of pine mingling with the faintest hint of something sweet, maybe mulled cider.

"Like it?" She laughed, her voice filled with genuine delight as she spun around to take it all in. "Sebastian, I love it. It’s perfect. When did you do all this?!"

He rubbed the back of his neck, his grin softening into something almost bashful as he watched her take everything in. “Well, yesterday. I wanted to get it done before I brought you over."

She looked at him, her eyes bright with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “You did all of this just for… me?”

Sebastian’s gaze softened, and he shrugged, though she could tell by the faint color rising to his cheeks that he was genuinely touched by her reaction. “Well, I couldn’t let you spend Christmas alone in that empty castle,” he replied, his voice quieter, more sincere than usual. “Besides… it’s not really Christmas here without some company.”

Her heart gave a little flutter. The room was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that—it was thoughtful, filled with small, intentional touches that felt warm and welcoming, like he’d crafted a space just for her.

“Well, I think you might be better at this Christmas thing than I am,” she teased gently, her voice laced with affection. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Sebastian.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his usual smirk tempered with something softer as he looked at her. “I’ll take the compliment… though I have to admit, seeing you this happy is already worth all the effort.” He glanced away briefly, almost as if he were embarrassed by his own words.

Evangeline’s smile lingered, and she took a step closer, feeling the pull between them as natural as the crackling fire beside them. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This really means a lot to me.”

For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say something more, his gaze searching hers, but instead, he just held out his hand. “Come on. Make yourself comfortable. I have everything we need—including your favourite biscuits,” he added with a wink.

She laughed, slipping her hand into his, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. With a gentle squeeze, he led her to the armchairs by the fire, and she settled into the plush seat, savoring the comfort of the moment.

Sebastian returned moments later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in each hand. He passed one to Evangeline, who took it gratefully, letting the warmth seep through her fingers. She inhaled, catching the faint hint of cinnamon mixed with chocolate, and smiled as she took her first sip, the rich sweetness flooding her senses.

“Just the way you like it,” he said with a satisfied grin, settling into the armchair across from her. He set down a small tin of her favourite biscuits on the table between them, the top half-open in a silent invitation.

Evangeline’s gaze drifted to the old, familiar chessboard on the side table, and Sebastian’s eyes followed hers, his grin widening. “Fancy a game?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you’re quite terrible at Wizard’s Chess, but I’d be more than happy to teach you a thing or two.”

She narrowed her eyes, smirking. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

“Well,” he replied, shrugging casually as he set up the board, “I did just transform my whole cottage to make you feel at home. I think I’ve earned a little self-congratulation.”

She shook her head, laughing, and took another sip of hot chocolate. “Fine, I accept the challenge. But don’t get too smug—I might surprise you.”

Sebastian snorted, setting his pieces in place as she mirrored him, and the game began. Within minutes, her poor strategy had led to her queen being unceremoniously smashed to pieces by one of his knights. Sebastian’s laughter filled the room, light and teasing as he rested his chin on his hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

He shook his head, laughing, “I did warn you, didn’t I?”

“Oh, don’t you start,” she huffed, glaring at her remaining pieces as though they’d betrayed her.

Despite her efforts to focus, she lost the first game in a matter of moves, much to Sebastian’s delight. And yet, she insisted they keep playing, his teasing grin never faltering. They played round after round, and although her skills didn’t miraculously improve, the warm, playful banter that filled the room was worth every crushing defeat.

Between games, they chatted about everything and nothing—school gossip, upcoming exams, and rumors of pranks planned by Leander and Garreth that had left half the Slytherins looking over their shoulders.

Hours passed, and the cottage grew darker, save for the flickering firelight. As the evening wore on, Evangeline grew more comfortable, tucking her feet under herself as she leaned back in her armchair, finishing the last of her hot chocolate.

Eventually, she sighed, eyeing the board as another one of her knights crumbled under his rook’s relentless attack. “I think I officially surrender,” she laughed, raising her hands in mock defeat. “There’s no coming back from that.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning back with a contented sigh. “Well, it only took you… what, ten games?” He reached for the biscuit tin, offering it to her.

“Ten games and far too many of my pieces sacrificed in battle,” she replied, accepting a biscuit and nibbling on it, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of playfulness and gratitude.

“So, tell me,” he said suddenly, adopting a mock-serious tone, “how much of that book have you actually read?”

Her cheeks flushed as she fumbled with her biscuit, nearly dropping it in her lap. “I—um—” she stammered, trying to downplay her interest.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Didn’t seem like you’d gotten too far given how I found it. By the way, your hiding skills could use some work.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, feigning indignation. “Excuse me, how did you even find it in the first place?”

“Because,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “The moment I walked into the common room, it was obvious where you’d been sitting—blankets thrown everywhere, that very you-shaped cocoon.” He chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “And then I spotted the book sticking out from the cushions.”

Evangeline groaned, covering her face with one hand.

“Oh, come on, Evie,” he teased, nudging her shoulder. “You can’t expect me to resist when it’s so… conveniently placed.”

“Curiosity?” She shook her head, her lips twisting into a smirk. “More like a complete lack of boundaries.”

“Boundaries are for strangers,” he replied smoothly, leaning a little closer, his voice lowering. “And we’re hardly strangers, are we?”

The warmth in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself to stay collected, giving him a mock-glare instead. “I’ll make sure to hide anything ‘private’ next time you’re around, then.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning back with a look of pure, unrepentant amusement. “You can try, but I have a talent for uncovering secrets. Especially yours, Evie.”

Her face flushed, both at his words and the way he seemed to be enjoying this. She wished she could deny it, but he was right: he was far too good at reading her. His perceptiveness had always unnerved her, especially when it came with that sly grin and those knowing eyes that seemed to peel back every layer of her defenses.

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms in an attempt to look stern, though she was sure the effect was undermined by the lingering smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “Maybe I’ll just start keeping my books locked up.”

“Oh, now where’s the fun in that?” Sebastian leaned in closer, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow over his face. “Besides, I already know what you’re reading. So… was it helpful? Any earth-shattering revelations?”

"I'd barely had the chance to open the cover before you were pounding on my common room door." She said, raising an eyebrow at him. "So any ‘earth-shattering revelations’ will have to wait until after you’re done dragging me around Feldcroft.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning back with a look of mock disappointment. “Oh, the tragedy. Here I was, thinking you’d have all sorts of interesting theories to share. Guess I’ll just have to wait.”

“Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me, maybe I’d be a little more enlightened by now,” she shot back, folding her arms in mock indignation.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Interrupted? I was saving you from Christmas boredom.”

Sebastian raised his mug, savoring another sip of hot chocolate as he watched her with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. After a comfortable silence, he set his mug down and tilted his head thoughtfully, the firelight casting shadows across his face.

“So, did you and Lysander exchange gifts before he left?” he asked casually, though the way his eyes lingered on her hinted at something more than idle curiosity.

Evangeline’s smile faltered, and she attempted to look pleased as she nodded. “Oh, yes. We did… a little something up in the Astronomy Tower before he left.” She tried to keep her tone light, as if recounting a perfectly pleasant memory, but there was a hesitation she couldn’t quite mask.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, picking up on the subtle shift in her expression. “What did he give you?” he pressed, leaning forward with an intensity that was both endearing and a little unnerving.

She hesitated, feeling the warmth rise in her cheeks again. “Well… he gave me a necklace,” she said slowly, glancing away as if studying the intricacies of the room. “It's beautiful, really ornate, elegant—"

"You hate it," Sebastian interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact, though his eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something else she couldn't place.

Evangeline’s mouth opened to protest, but the words faltered, and instead, she let out a reluctant laugh. “I don’t hate it,” she insisted, though even she could hear the weakness in her own voice. “It’s a lovely necklace. Just… a bit much. And maybe… not exactly what I would have picked for myself.”

Sebastian looked at her for a beat, his gaze steady, as though something had just clicked in his mind. Without a word, he pushed himself up from his chair, crossing to the small Christmas tree in the corner. He crouched down, reaching for a small box wrapped simply but neatly in red and gold, and then straightened, turning back toward her with a thoughtful expression.

Evangeline watched him, her curiosity piqued. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just walked back to her and held out the box, “Might as well open it now.”

She glanced between him and the box, her heart beating a little faster. “Sebastian… what is this?”

“Just open it,” he said softly.

With a hesitant smile, she carefully unwrapped the box, peeling back the paper to reveal a plain black velvet case. She glanced up at him, a question in her eyes, but he just nodded, urging her to continue. Taking a steadying breath, she lifted the lid.

Inside was a simple gold necklace, delicate yet sturdy, with a small garnet pendant gleaming in the center. She reached out to trace the charm with her fingertips, her heart swelling with warmth as she took in the intricate yet unassuming design. She could tell at once that it was crafted with care—its simplicity made up for in the precise detailing around the edges of the pendant and the fine, golden links of the chain. It was the kind of piece she knew would feel right in any setting, a bit of elegance without the weight of grandeur. And it felt so personal, as though Sebastian had somehow managed to capture something essential about her and turn it into this gift.

She glanced up at him, her voice barely a whisper. “Sebastian… this is beautiful. You didn’t have to-"

“Don’t even finish that thought,” he interrupted softly, a faint smile curving his lips.

“But it looks… it must have been expensive,” she continued, her fingers still resting on the pendant, marveling at its perfect simplicity. “This isn’t just… a little something, Sebastian. This is…"

He shrugged, looking a bit bashful now, rubbing the back of his neck. “It just… it reminded me of you,” he admitted, his gaze steady, even as a faint color rose in his cheeks. “You don’t need anything over-the-top or flashy. And when I saw it… I just knew.”

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, looking down at the necklace again, touched beyond words. “Thank you, Sebastian. Truly.”

He shifted a bit, a softer smile replacing his usual grin. “I’m glad you like it.” After a pause, he reached forward, meeting her eyes. “May I?”

She blinked, realizing he was offering to put it on for her. She nodded, unable to speak, and turned slightly, lifting her hair to the side as he took the necklace from the box.

His hands brushed lightly against the back of her neck as he clasped it, sending a gentle warmth through her. When he finished, his fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away, and she turned back to face him, her fingers drifting to the pendant now resting just below her collarbone.

He took a step back, his eyes lingering on her as though committing the sight to memory. “Looks perfect on you,” he murmured, his voice low.

Evangeline’s mind raced, her thoughts spiraling as she touched the pendant lightly. This gift, from Sebastian of all people—her best friend, the one she’d been trying so hard to suppress feelings for—felt so achingly perfect that it was almost painful. The necklace was everything she hadn’t known she wanted, simple yet thoughtful, understated but full of meaning. And it hit her, uncomfortably, that this was a better, more personal gift than the one Lysander, her actual boyfriend, had given her.

She swallowed, the reality pressing in, mingling with the warmth of Sebastian’s gaze, and a flutter of guilt twisted in her chest. She shouldn’t be comparing them, shouldn’t be reading into what was surely just a gesture of friendship from Sebastian. But then, why did it feel so… significant?

In an effort to distract herself, she cleared her throat and managed a shaky smile, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremor in her voice. “So, it’s only fair I return the favor, right?” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone as she moved toward her bag. “I have something for you, too… well, a few things, actually."

Sebastian’s brows lifted in surprise, a smile curving his lips. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, glancing back at him with a softer smile, grateful for the change in focus. “You didn’t think I’d come here empty-handed, did you? But don't get too excited, we're only spoiling one. gift”

She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a small bundle wrapped in emerald green paper and tied with a simple black ribbon. It was unassuming, not grand or flashy, but she’d spent ages thinking about what to get him this year. As she handed it to him, she caught herself holding her breath, anticipation prickling at the edges of her nerves.

Sebastian took the package, his expression softening as he glanced from the gift to her. “Should I be nervous?”

She laughed, feeling some of her tension dissolve. “I’d say no, but you’ll just have to open it to find out.”

Sebastian unwrapped the gift with an amused smirk, but as he lifted the lid of the small box inside, his brow furrowed. A simple, elegant compass rested there, its polished surface catching the light of the fire. Yet as he picked it up, he noticed something odd: the needle wasn’t pointing north—it was pointed directly toward Evangeline, steady and unwavering.

He tilted his head, glancing at her in mild confusion. “A compass? And it’s… pointed at you? Are you secretly magnetic or something, Sterling?”

She laughed, “Maybe the compass is just pointing to the center of the cottage.” She gave a nonchalant shrug, "It's enchanted."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Enchanted how?”

“It’s charmed to always point toward wherever you feel safest or… most comfortable,” she explained, her voice softer now, a hint of nervousness slipping into her tone. “I thought it might come in handy if you’re ever… lost.”

Sebastian’s gaze flickered back to the compass, “So… it points towards home,” he murmured, his voice soft as he felt a faint, steady warmth spread through him. Of course, it was pointed directly at Evangeline. There was no need to question it, not really. But Merlin was he glad she brushed it off, chalking up the needle’s direction to the center of the cottage rather than toward her specifically.

She nodded, a little shy now. “Exactly. For… whenever you need it.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and he swallowed, the depth of the gift hitting him all at once. He closed his hand around the compass, and looked back at her, his eyes softening. “Evie… I don’t even know what to say. This is so thoughtful. Thank you.”

Evangeline’s cheeks flushed under the warmth of his gaze, and she quickly looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well,” she murmured, trying to sound casual, “I know how you get yourself into trouble, so it seemed… practical.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and filled with something that almost felt like gratitude. “Practical, sure,” he replied, his voice gentle. “But more than that.” He thumbed over the compass once, the weight of it settling into his hand like it belonged there. “It’s… perfect, really.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet filled only by the soft crackling of the fire. For once, Sebastian didn’t rush to fill the gap with humor or a smirk. Instead, he kept his eyes on the compass, a look of peacefulness crossing his face as he considered the small but meaningful charm she had placed in his hands.

The moment stretched, each of them acutely aware of the other, of the small but powerful significance of the gift between them. Then, with a soft smile, Evangeline gently nudged his shoulder, breaking the spell. “So, where's the guest room in this new-and-improved cottage?"

Sebastian blinked, his thoughtful expression breaking into a grin as he tucked the compass carefully into his pocket. “Ah, tired already are we?" He stood up, gesturing for her to follow him down the narrow hall. “Your room is this way,” he said, leading her to a small but cozy room on the left. “It’s nothing grand,” he added, opening the door to reveal a room with a neatly made bed and a small nightstand holding a softly glowing lamp. A window overlooked the snowy fields beyond, a view softened by a sheer, lacy curtain.

Evangeline stepped inside, taking it all in. The space felt warm, personal—he’d even left a few books on the nightstand, ones she recognized as her favorites. She turned to look at him, surprise and gratitude in her eyes. “My room?”

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, his grin softening as he took in her reaction. “Well, I couldn’t let you spend Christmas feeling like a guest." He shrugged, attempting to play it off with his usual nonchalance, though she noticed the faint color rising to his cheeks. "You'll always have a home here, Evie."

She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat as she turned to him, her eyes bright. “Sebastian Sallow, who knew you had such a sentimental side?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to appear unfazed. “Don’t go spreading it around, Sterling."

They shared a quiet smile, the moment stretching comfortably between them. The crackling fire in the distance, the gentle warmth of the room—it all made Evangeline feel like she’d been given something truly precious, far more than just a place to stay. It was a reminder of just how well he understood her, even the little things she often didn’t realize mattered.

“So, settled in?” he asked, breaking the silence with a softer tone. “Anything else you need?”

She shook her head, clutching the compass gently in her hand. “No… it’s perfect. Thank you, Sebastian.”

For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something more, his gaze lingering on her face. But instead, he nodded, giving her one last warm smile before he turned to go. “Well then, I’ll let you get settled. But I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything… or if you feel like getting thrashed in another game of Wizard’s Chess.”

As he left, she couldn’t help the smile that lingered, her fingers drifting down to the necklace resting against her chest.

~

The morning sunlight filtered through the soft lace curtain, spilling gentle warmth over Evangeline as she blinked awake. The room was peaceful, and the quiet of the cottage—so different from the lively bustle of the Gryffindor dormitories—made her feel as though she’d woken in some forgotten, secluded world. After a moment, she slipped from bed, careful not to make a sound as she pulled on a robe and crept into the hallway.

The cottage was still, and from the quiet, she knew Sebastian wasn’t awake yet. Not that it surprised her—she couldn’t recall the last time he’d risen before her. A faint smile crept over her face as she wandered through the cozy space, curiosity urging her to explore the changes he’d made to his home.

The hallway extended further than she remembered, leading to a new room she hadn’t noticed last night. She pushed the door open and was greeted by the sight of a neatly furnished guest room, with soft shades of blue and dark wood furniture. It was spacious yet personal, with familiar touches—like the old record player Ominis adored—that made it clear he’d designed the space specifically for his friend.

Her chest tightened, warmth blooming at the realization. Sebastian hadn’t just expanded the cottage for himself—he’d done it to create a home for those he cared about.

Continuing her quiet exploration, she discovered another newly added door that led to a small office. Inside, the desk was scattered with neatly organized notes, spare quills, and a book on advanced defensive magic that looked well-thumbed. She could practically picture Sebastian poring over it late into the night, always striving to outdo himself.

She wandered back down the hall, stopping when she reached the last closed door—Sebastian’s bedroom. The urge to peek in tugged at her, her hand hovering by the doorknob as her curiosity wrestled with her better judgment. It was just one look, she reasoned, but even as she thought it, a familiar pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She’d been so careful, trying to keep her feelings for him buried. Spending Christmas here was already pushing the boundaries, and she knew Lysander would be hurt if he ever found out. With a sigh, she took a step back from the door, scolding herself for even considering it.

She moved to the kitchen, eager to occupy her thoughts with something practical. As she surveyed the cabinets, she chuckled under her breath. For all his meticulous preparation, Sebastian had somehow forgotten to stock the basics. She’d seen a bakery on the way in yesterday and decided to make a quick trip. Pulling on her coat, she slipped out quietly and crossed the village square, the early morning air crisp and quiet.

The bakery was a charming little spot, its interior warm and inviting, with rows of freshly baked bread, pastries, and other morning treats on display. Evangeline breathed in the comforting scent, her eyes scanning over the assortment before settling on a loaf of crusty bread and a few sweet rolls. She couldn’t resist adding a couple of flaky pastries to the basket—knowing Sebastian would appreciate them.

As she moved toward the counter, she noticed shelves along the wall stocked with basic necessities: fresh eggs, small jars of jam, even a few pints of milk and bundles of herbs. She picked up a dozen eggs, milk, and a jar of strawberry preserves. Her basket quickly filled, she approached the shopkeeper, who offered her a warm smile as he wrapped each item in brown paper.

With her arms full of fresh supplies, she stepped back into the crisp morning air, a sense of contentment settling over her as she made her way back to the cottage. The quiet village, dressed in snow, felt like a scene from an old storybook, each step crunching softly beneath her feet as she followed the little path back.

When she reached the cottage, she nudged the door open with her shoulder, stepping inside to the warmth and soft crackle of the fire. She set her bounty on the counter, unwrapping the items and setting up a small workspace as quietly as she could. But, just as she cracked the first egg into a bowl, she heard soft footsteps behind her and turned to find Sebastian leaning in the doorway still wearing his pyjamas, his hair a tousled mess and a sleepy smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know you were planning to sneak off on me,” he murmured, his voice warm with a hint of amusement as he noticed the spread on the counter.

She smiled, pulling out a loaf of bread. “Well, it turns out that in your grand plans, you thought of everything except breakfast,” she teased.

Sebastian smirked, clearly unbothered. “I never said I was perfect,” he replied, pulling out a chair settling down at the dining room table. “But it seems you have everything under control.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, amused as she cracked another egg into the bowl. “Lucky for you,” she replied, whisking the eggs with a bit more flair than necessary.

He chuckled, stretching his long legs out under the table, watching her with that lazy, satisfied grin she was far too accustomed to. “You know,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, “I could get used to waking up like this."

Her heart skipped, and she quickly focused on the skillet, pouring in the eggs, though she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Waking up like what?"

Sebastian’s smirk faltered just a bit, realizing he’d nearly let slip more than he intended. He cleared his throat, sliding back in his chair and stretching as if suddenly fascinated by the cabinets. “Oh, you know,” he drawled, shifting his gaze to the kitchen counter, “waking up to the smell of breakfast. Speaking of, we’re missing a key ingredient: coffee.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow as he headed for the kitchen counter, watching him rummage through the cabinets.

Moments later, he set two mugs on the table, a fragrant steam rising from the freshly brewed coffee. He settled back into his chair, his usual confidence restored as he watched her transfer the scrambled eggs and toast onto plates.

“Looks impressive,” he said, raising his mug in a sort of approving toast. "Didn't realize you were such a chef."

“Guess growing up in the muggle world had its benefits,” she replied with a grin as she placed his plate in front of him.

They ate while exchanging stories and laughter. He listened with genuine interest as she recounted memories of growing up, the small traditions and quirks of her world that always felt a bit different from life at Hogwarts. And she found herself caught up in his tales of the antics he and Ominis would get up to in the Slytherin common room, and their half-hearted schemes that sometimes ended with the two of them nursing their bruised egos.

Sebastian looked around the room, taking in the morning light filtering through the cottage windows, his gaze eventually drifting back to her. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

“Well, since we’re officially in the middle of nowhere,” Evangeline began, setting down her knife and fork, “I thought we might venture out a bit, maybe see some of these haunted woods you mentioned last year. You wouldn’t be afraid, would you?”

“Afraid? Me?” He rolled his eyes, mock-offended. “Sterling, please. I’m practically the very picture of courage.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “A Slytherin known for his bravery.”

Sebastian grinned, clearly delighted. “But yes, I’ll take you up on that ghost hunt,” he said, "I'm surprised you remember me mentioning that."

Evangeline felt a small, knowing smile tug at her lips. “Of course, I remember. You went on about it for nearly an hour that day in the Three Broomsticks,” she said, looking over at him with a spark of amusement in her eyes. “You painted quite the picture—how you and Anne would sneak off into the woods, convinced you’d find something no one else had seen.”

Sebastian’s grin softened as he recalled the memory, leaning back in his chair. “I may have exaggerated a bit,” he admitted with a chuckle, “but in our defense, we really did think those woods were haunted. Every little sound felt like some dark creature lurking in the shadows.”

She laughed, picturing a younger, wide-eyed Sebastian creeping through the trees with Anne by his side. She could almost see it, the two of them finding excitement in the unknown, each noise adding to the thrill. There was a certain innocence in the way he told those stories—a rare glimpse of the boy he’d been before Hogwarts, before everything changed.

“And yet,” she continued, a mischievous look in her eyes, “I don’t remember you ever mentioning that you two actually found anything.”

Sebastian shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps we will today."

~

The days leading up to Christmas Eve drifted by in a quiet, comfortable rhythm, each one blurring gently into the next as Evangeline and Sebastian settled into an easy companionship. They filled their time with simple joys—wandering through Hogsmeade’s snow-dusted streets, taking the Floo into London to explore shops adorned with twinkling lights, and, on occasion, heading out into the Highlands for a bit of exploring.

And when they were back at the cottage, their days continued in that same, effortless cadence. She’d found herself brewing tea for both of them in the afternoons, adding cinnamon and a dash of milk because he liked it that way, while he’d taken to fetching wood for the hearth and setting it alight in the evenings, his face flickering in the warm glow as he joked about having a “natural talent” for lighting things on fire.

It was strange, she realized, how easily they’d fallen into a routine as if they’d been doing this for years. And the more time she spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the insistent tug in her heart. She could feel it with every small gesture, every look they shared across the room—she was falling, deeper than she had ever expected or wanted to. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, not even with the nagging guilt that occasionally pricked at her when thoughts of Lysander surfaced.

But whenever that guilt began to claw its way up, it was quickly brushed aside by the overwhelming sense of rightness she felt here, in this little world they’d created. She hadn’t missed Lysander, not really, and the realization was almost as startling as it was inevitable.

Christmas Eve arrived with a hushed, magical stillness, and that evening found the two of them curled up on the couch in front of the fire, noses buried in books, each lost in their own worlds yet entirely aware of the other’s presence. Outside, snow had just finished falling, casting a gentle white sheen over the world beyond the window.

Evangeline stretched out on the couch, her feet finding their way across Sebastian’s lap as he absentmindedly shifted to make room, neither of them needing to say anything as they settled in. She glanced over her book at him, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the firelight casting warm shadows across his face.

And in that quiet, stolen moment, she felt the weight of everything settle over her—how deeply she cared for him, how easily they fit together, and how strange it felt to think about returning to Hogwarts, where everything would once again be complicated by the presence of others, by the reality of her relationship with Lysander, by the fact that she and Sebastian weren’t meant to be anything more than friends.

But here, with him, it was impossible to feel anything but a gentle, aching happiness.

Sebastian looked up then, catching her gaze. A soft smile curved his lips. “Getting bored?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur that sent warmth curling through her.

She returned his smile, shifting her feet slightly as if that could somehow diffuse the tension that had thickened between them.

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice softer than she intended. “Just… thinking.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, setting his book aside as his gaze softened. “Dangerous business, that. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated, glancing away for a moment, but there was something about the quiet warmth of the cottage, the way he looked at her, that made her want to answer honestly. “Just… how easy all of this feels,” she admitted, gesturing to the cozy scene around them. "Six months ago, I wouldn't have thought this possible."

Sebastian’s expression softened, his gaze searching her face as he absorbed her words. “Six months ago, I wouldn’t have thought so either,” he admitted quietly. His voice was steady, but there was an underlying vulnerability that she wasn’t used to hearing from him. “Feels strange, doesn’t it? How everything changes and yet… some things feel like they’re exactly where they’re meant to be.”

Her heart beat a little faster, her eyes meeting his as his words lingered in the quiet. “Yeah,” she murmured, feeling a warmth settle in her chest. “Exactly like that.”

Sebastian glanced toward the window, his gaze shifting to the faint starlight peeking through the frost-lined glass. A small smile crept onto his face, thoughtful and a little mischievous. “How about a walk?” he suggested, his voice light. “The sky’s clearing up—maybe we could get a proper look at the stars.”

Evangeline’s eyes lit up, but she hesitated, glancing down at her feet. “I’d love to, but my last pair of dry socks got soaked this morning.” She shrugged, chuckling softly.

Sebastian’s grin widened as he rose from the couch, brushing off her concern with a dismissive wave. “Lucky for you, I have plenty of socks to spare.”

He disappeared down the hall, returning a moment later with a thick, woolen pair in hand. “Here,” he said, holding them out to her. “They'll be a little big, since you've got fairy-sized feet, but they’ll keep your feet warm.”

Evangeline took them, her fingers brushing his as she did. “Thanks,” she murmured, slipping them on and feeling the cozy warmth spread through her toes. They were indeed oversized, but somehow that only made them more comfortable, as if she were taking a small piece of his warmth with her.

Once they were bundled in coats and mittens, they stepped out into the crisp night. Snow blanketed the ground, a fresh layer glistening under the silver light of the moon. The world felt hushed, as though all of nature was holding its breath, and the stars overhead shone with a fierce clarity, illuminating the sky in a way that made her heart ache with wonder.

They walked side by side down a winding path that led through the trees, their footsteps muffled by the snow, the silence between them thick with a sense of shared tranquility. Occasionally, Sebastian would reach out to steady her on an icy patch, his hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary before letting go.

Eventually, they reached a small clearing where the trees parted, revealing a perfect view of the heavens above. Stars scattered across the sky in brilliant clusters, and Evangeline tilted her head back, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air as she took it all in.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured, his gaze shifting from the stars to her face, as if he were searching for something in her expression.

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like this. It’s… like they’re closer somehow.”

Sebastian gazed up at the stars for a moment longer, then raised his hand, pointing to a particularly bright constellation. “See that one?” he murmured. “Canis Major. It’s supposed to represent the loyal hunting dog of Orion.” He traced the shape in the sky with his finger, drawing her attention to the bright star in its shoulder, Sirius. “That’s Sirius, the Dog Star. It’s the brightest star in the night sky. Legend says it represents loyalty and guardianship. Protectiveness.”

Evangeline followed his gaze, surprised he'd paid so much attention in Astronomy class, though her eyes traced the lines he’d pointed out. “A protector,” she said softly, glancing at him. “Seems fitting for you.”

He chuckled, though there was a touch of something serious in his expression. “Think so?”

She nodded, tucking her hands deeper into her pockets to shield them from the cold. “I do. It suits you. You’re… protective.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “And a more than a bit stubborn."

Sebastian laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one,” she replied, her gaze lingering on the constellation. After a beat, she added, “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if your Patronus was a dog of some sort.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A dog?”

She shrugged, smiling a little. “Or maybe a wolf. Something loyal and fierce, the type of animal that sticks by the people it cares about, no matter what."

He shrugged, a slight smile playing at his lips. “When you put it that way… maybe I don’t mind being compared to a dog."

They continued walking, slipping into an easy rhythm as they wandered further down the moonlit path. The silence that followed was comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts as they took in the beauty of the snowy landscape around them. But eventually, Evangeline began to feel a shiver run through her as the cold seeped past her coat.

Noticing, Sebastian stopped and turned to her with a faint grin, unwinding the Slytherin scarf from around his neck. “Here,” he said, reaching out to drape it over her shoulders. “We can’t have you freezing before we’ve even made it back.”

Evangeline’s hands moved to protest, but the warmth of the scarf, and the scent of Sebastian clinging to it, was too inviting. She pulled it closer around her neck. “Thanks,” she murmured, her cheeks warming despite the chill in the air.

Sebastian crossed his arms, looking entirely too pleased. “I’d say green suits you.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as they resumed walking. “Only a Slytherin would think that.”

They shared a quiet look before he nodded toward the path, his eyes glinting in the starlight. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back before I have to start carrying you.”

Once back inside the cottage, warmth quickly enveloped them, a comforting contrast to the frigid night air outside. Evangeline unwound Sebastian’s scarf from around her neck, but hesitated before handing it back.

Sebastian, already shrugging off his coat, didn’t seem to pay much attention as she tucked the scarf under her arm, a small, guilty smile tugging at her lips. He must have plenty of scarves, she reasoned. He wouldn’t miss one. And the thought of having a piece of him nearby—a small memento—felt comforting, like carrying a bit of this shared evening with her.

Sebastian shot her a quick grin as he sauntered down the hall. “Going to change."

She nodded, her cheeks still warm as she slipped into her room as well to pull on her pajamas. The soft cotton and fleece were a far cry from her outdoor layers, and she sighed in relief, reveling in the coziness. She slipped Sebastian’s scarf in her bag, smoothing it out and letting her fingers linger for a moment over the fabric before she turned back toward the hallway.

When she re-emerged, Sebastian was already in the living room, his dark pajama shirt and trousers a relaxed contrast to his usual attire.

“Comfy?” he asked as she approached.

Evangeline nodded, crossing the room and settling into the armchair by the fire, its warmth immediately enveloping her. She pulled her knees up, curling into the chair as Sebastian took his usual spot on the couch while the silence settled between them, comfortable and familiar.

Evangeline watched him quietly, her gaze lingering on the details she scarcely allowed herself to fully appreciate. The firelight danced over him, illuminating the slight scruff along his jawline and the lines of his face that seemed a bit more defined than she remembered. Somewhere along the line, he’d begun growing up—she realized with a soft pang. She noticed how his pajama sleeves, once a perfect fit, now rode up just slightly on his wrists, revealing the lines of his forearms and the faint shadows of veins that ran along them. The hint of adulthood in him, subtle yet unmistakable, made her pulse quicken.

Sebastian, seemingly oblivious to her gaze, leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes half-closed. A soft sigh escaped his lips, the sound almost melting into the warm crackle of the fire. He looked peaceful.

And then suddenly, the clock on the wall chimed, the soft notes echoing in the stillness. Midnight. Christmas.

Sebastian’s eyes opened, meeting hers, and a slow smile spread across his face as he sat up a little, his gaze softening. “Happy Christmas, Evie,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

“Happy Christmas, Sebastian,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper as her heart raced. She kept her eyes on his, feeling her cheeks grow warm under his steady gaze.

Sebastian rose from the couch, his movements casual yet purposeful. He wandered over to the small Christmas tree in the corner, kneeling to retrieve a couple of gifts wrapped in deep greens and silvers, each tied neatly with white ribbon. His back was to her, but she saw the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Alright," he murmured, glancing back at her with a glint in his eyes, “time to make it official. Let’s see if Father Christmas stopped by after all.”

Evangeline blinked, jolted out of her reverie. She’d been so caught up in simply watching him that she’d nearly forgotten about the gifts she’d brought. Feeling her cheeks warm again, she quickly pushed herself out of the armchair and hurried to her room, rummaging through her bag until she found her carefully wrapped bundle of gifts. She’d spent ages choosing each one, thinking of things that might hold meaning for him, but now, with the quiet magic of the moment still lingering in the air, she suddenly felt nervous.

When she returned to the living room, she found Sebastian already settled back on the couch, his gifts neatly stacked on the small table between them. He looked up as she approached, his eyes softening at the sight of her with her bundle in hand.

“Thought you might’ve forgotten about me there for a second,” he teased, his voice low, though his gaze held nothing but warmth.

She managed a smile, sinking back into her chair and setting the gifts down beside her. “Never."

Sebastian reached for one of the green-wrapped gifts, holding it out to her with a playful grin. “Ladies first.”

She carefully unwrapped the paper, peeling it back to reveal a small, leather-bound journal with her initials embossed in gold on the cover. The pages were thick and cream-colored, and a small quill was tucked inside. She traced her fingers over the letters, her breath catching slightly. “Sebastian… it’s beautiful.”

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though there was a hint of satisfaction in his expression, "It's a forget-me-not journal... charmed so that it always returns to the owner’s side when they need it," He explained, his gaze softening further as he watched her flip through the first few pages. Then, after a moment, he gestured to the gifts by her side. “Go on then. Let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve.”

She picked up one of her carefully wrapped gifts, her heart pounding as she handed it over. Sebastian’s expression grew curious as he tore away the paper and opened the box, revealing a small, elegantly stoppered vial filled with a swirling, golden liquid. He turned it in his hand, the shimmering contents catching the firelight, his eyes widening as he recognized what it was. “Evangeline… is this—?”

“Felix Felicis,” she confirmed, a bit shyly. “I know how much trouble we got into last year trying to find a vial. So… I thought maybe you’d like your own.” She laughed softly. “I spent months trying to get it right, following every rule— it was quite the endeavour, if I'm honest."

He was silent for a beat, his thumb brushing over the vial, visibly awed. “You made this for me?”

She nodded, biting her lip nervously. “I thought… if you ever need a bit of extra luck. Merlin knows you find enough ways to get yourself into trouble.”

Sebastian’s eyes softened, and he carefully set the vial down before looking at her with an intensity that made her heart pound. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” he murmured, his voice lower, as though he were struggling to find the right words. “But… thank you."

He held her gaze a moment longer, and then, as if realizing he’d almost said too much, he looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. “Alright, my turn,” he said, picking up another of the gifts and holding it out to her.

Evangeline took it and carefully peeled back the green paper, her fingers trembling slightly as she revealed a small, elegant satchel with a soft, worn-in leather texture. She looked up at Sebastian, a mixture of curiosity and surprise in her eyes.

“Wow, Sebastian... this is such a beautiful bag,” she breathed, tracing her fingers over the smooth surface.

Sebastian grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Not just any bag. Here, watch."

He leaned over, taking the satchel from her hands with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “Let me show you,” he said, and in one swift motion, began picking up random objects around the room—a few books, a teacup, even a throw pillow from the couch—and tossed them into the satchel.

Evangeline watched, half-amused and half-baffled, as he kept adding things, the bag barely bulging under the growing weight. When he was done, he handed it back to her with a triumphant smile.

“Now, think of something you want from the bag,” he instructed, gesturing for her to give it a try.

She took a breath, humouring him with a skeptical smile as she thought of one of the books he’d tossed in. Almost instantly, her fingers brushed against it, and she pulled it out, marveling at how easily it had appeared.

“Oh, Sebastian, this is incredible!” She ran her hand over the bag’s smooth leather, the realization dawning on her that this was no ordinary charm. “It’s like it knows exactly what I’m looking for.”

Sebastian’s grin widened. “Because it does. No more endless digging for whatever you need; just think of it, and there it is.”

She stared at the bag, overcome by how thoughtful—and genuinely useful—the gift was. “How did you even think of this?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

He shrugged, trying to look casual but clearly pleased by her reaction. “I noticed how you’re always carrying around way too much stuff. Figured it might help you actually find what you're looking for,” He paused, a hint of softness entering his voice. “Besides, if you’re going to be off getting into all sorts of trouble, you’ll need to be prepared.”

Evangeline chuckled, a warmth spreading through her chest as she glanced down at the bag, feeling a surge of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. “Well, it’s perfect. Honestly, I don’t know how you thought of something so… exactly what I needed.”

Sebastian’s expression softened, his gaze holding hers for a long, unspoken moment. Finally, he reached for another small bundle, handing it to her, “Alright,” he murmured, his voice almost shy. “Last one.”

She took the gift, her fingers tracing the delicate edges of the wrapping before she carefully peeled it open, revealing a small candle encased in a glass holder, the wax a soft shade of purple. Her brow furrowed in curiosity, looking up at him.

“A companion candle,” he explained, watching her reaction closely. “It’ll light up whenever the person you’re thinking of the most is also awake.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if trying to brush off the vulnerability in his voice.

"How lovely," She murmured as she reached for the candle’s lid, lifting it with a faint tremor in her fingers. The moment it came free, the wick flickered to life, as though it had been waiting for her touch. Its soft glow filled the room with a warm, golden light, and the scent of vanilla and lavender drifted between them.

Sebastian watched the flicker of the flame, casting its soft glow across her face, accentuating the warm curve of her smile and the gentle sparkle in her eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder, for the hundredth time since he bought the candle, who the it might connect her to—was it him, right now, as he sat here beside her? Or could it be someone else entirely? The thought twisted uncomfortably in his chest. It could even be Lysander, he supposed, and that thought made him hesitate, his gaze flicking to the flickering flame.

But before he could dwell on it, Evangeline’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. She held the candle close, watching the flame with a tender smile as she murmured, “Well, I guess now I'll always know… if you’re up causing trouble at odd hours.”

Sebastian’s heart stilled, her words sinking in slowly, their meaning filling him with a quiet thrill and palpable relief. His mind raced, replaying the words in his mind. The candle had tied itself to him—of all people. It was him that Evangeline thought of most often, him sparking the candle’s flame.

He felt his lips curve into a soft, almost bashful smile, trying to cover the swell of happiness by brushing off the comment with his usual humour, “Trouble?” he echoed, feigning innocence. “Me? I’m practically a model citizen.”

She gave him a playful, knowing look. “Uh-huh, sure,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “You’re practically a Slytherin saint.” Then, with a gentle smile, she reached for her own final gift, retrieving a small box, “For you,” she said, her voice a soft murmur.

He chuckled, but there was a softness in his gaze he couldn’t quite hide as he took it, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment before he carefully peeled back the wrapping, uncovering a smooth, dark case.

Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate glass vial, its contents swirling with a faint, silvery shimmer. Sebastian’s breath caught as he looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of surprise and wonder.

“Another memory,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “One I... thought you might want to hold on to."

He smiled, tilting the vial gently as the memory swirled within, "I can't wait to see which one it is this time."

Evangeline’s lips curved into a soft smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Well I'm not going to ruin the surprise,” she murmured.

With a smile, Sebastian slipped the memory back into its case, his fingers brushing over the smooth velvet with a reverence that made her heart ache, and before she could stop herself, she reached out, gently pulling him into a hug. Immediately, his arms were around her, strong and sure, wrapped her in his warmth. His hand pressed gently against her back, his fingers splaying as if he wanted to memorize the feel of her there. She relaxed against him, letting herself melt into his embrace, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

Sebastian’s chin brushed the top of her head as he held her close, his heart pounding in a way that felt unsteady, vulnerable. He could feel the softness of her against him, every breath in sync with his, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself hope—let himself feel the way she fit perfectly there.

He knew he should pull away, that he shouldn’t linger like this, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. His fingers found their way to her hair, brushing a soft strand away as he pulled back, just enough to look down at her. Her hazel eyes met his, and Sebastian could feel his unspoken feelings clawing their way up his throat in the quiet.

Their faces were close, close enough that he could see the faint reflection of the candlelight in her eyes, feel her breath warm against his cheek. A heartbeat passed, and then another, as though the whole world had narrowed to just this moment, just them.

But finally, with a gentle squeeze, Sebastian forced himself to pull back, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Happy Christmas, Evangeline,” he whispered, his voice low, holding a softness that was just for her.

Her own smile mirrored his, warm and steady as she whispered, “Happy Christmas, Sebastian.”

~

Late into the quiet hours of the night, Sebastian lay on his bed, his room dimly lit by the soft glow of his own companion candle, still flickering on his nightstand. He watched the flame closely, feeling a slight tension in his chest as he waited for it to go out. His fingers traced the edge of the memory vial, its delicate glass smooth under his fingers, while his thoughts drifted to the scenes it might hold.

He’d been so tempted to view the memory earlier, but something about doing so while Evangeline was still awake felt too revealing, too personal, and the last thing he wanted was for her to somehow sense his presence in her thoughts. So when the candle flickered out… when she’d fallen asleep… then he’d be free to let his curiosity slip into her memory, to see this moment she had chosen to share with him.

It felt like it took ages before the flame wavered and went out, leaving the room in near darkness. A mix of relief and anticipation fluttered in Sebastian's chest as chest he took a breath, steadying himself as reached under his bed for the pensieve she had gifted him.

Setting it on his bedside table, he poured the silvery contents of the vial into the pensieve, watching the memory swirl and settle. His heart pounded, a blend of curiosity and anticipation making his movements careful as he leaned forward, letting himself be drawn into the memory Evangeline had chosen for him.

As the memory sharpened around him, he found himself in the grand hall of the Solstice Ball, every detail vividly brought back to life: the sweeping, ornate decor, the glittering chandelier casting soft, romantic light, and the quiet murmur of distant voices blending into the melody of a slow, stately waltz. For a moment, anxiety twisted in his stomach, worried that the memory she’d chosen to share might show something he wasn’t prepared to see. A memory with Lysander, perhaps, or a glimpse of her feeling genuinely at ease within the stiff rituals and grandeur of pure-blood society.

But then, she and Ominis materialized before him, smiling at each other as they finished their dance. And then, he saw himself approaching from across the room and the breath she held in her chest as he drew close. It was then that he noticed how Evangeline's gaze lingered on the finer details—the slight, self-assured smirk he wore, the uncharacteristically intense way he looked at her as though he were seeing her for the first time.

As the memory continued, Sebastian found himself captivated by the way Evangeline had experienced their dance. Everything beyond their shared space was muted, softened into indistinct shadows. The vastness of the grand hall, the elegance of the other guests, even the opulence of the Solstice Ball decorations—all of it had faded into a hazy backdrop in her memory. It was as if, in that moment, she’d seen nothing and no one but him.

He watched himself dance with her, his touch at her waist light but firm, his gaze lingering on her face with an intensity he now knew she’d noticed, even in those fleeting moments. The small gestures he’d made—the way his thumb traced over the back of her hand, the slight pull to bring her closer—were magnified in her memory, each touch and glance recorded with perfect clarity.

Her focus shifted as he leaned closer, her attention drawn to his smile, the curve of his mouth, the way his eyes softened whenever she met his gaze. Sebastian felt a surge of warmth realizing she had noticed these details so closely.

And then, as the final notes of the second dance began to fade, he saw himself pause, his reluctance to let go as apparent as her own. They lingered together, the air between them thick with the unspoken, but eventually, he watched himself step back, forcing himself to let her go.

Sebastian expected the memory to end there, his heart already heavy as he watched himself turn and walk away. But it didn’t. Instead, the memory lingered, holding steady as he watched Evangeline’s form move toward Lysander. And just as she neared him, something unexpected happened: she hesitated. Her steps faltered, her body shifted, and before she fully reached the Ravenclaw, she cast a glance over her shoulder.

Sebastian’s heart stilled. In that fleeting, tender look, she followed his retreating form, her gaze lingering on him in a way that felt unguarded, searching, almost reluctant. She had turned to Lysander as he had expected—but her focus had remained on him.

In her memory, Lysander’s figure was blurred, an indistinct silhouette against the brightness of their dance. Sebastian had been the only one fully in focus, as if even then, even after stepping away, he was still the one who held her attention.

The memory’s edges began to blur, the ballroom fading until Sebastian found himself once more sitting sitting alone in his room. He let out a long, shaky breath, his heart full of emotions he hadn’t expected. The memory had held more than he could have hoped, more than he could have ever guessed.

Setting the empty vial gently back on his bedside table, he allowed himself a smile, the ghost of hope flickering within him.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

[itacats]

Part 4 - A New Distraction

FT: Price x Reader (Detective AU)

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, psychological manipulation, graphic violence, and mature themes.

Word Count: 2,207

SUM: After your painful breakup with Liam, you seek a distraction through online dating and begin conversing with Mark, a seemingly perfect match. However, his attentiveness quickly turns unsettling as he begins sending gifts and messages that feel invasive. Meanwhile, you’re consumed by a serial killer case, where the killer seems to know you personally. As Mark’s behavior grows increasingly disturbing, you begin to fear that your new connection may be tied to the killer, and the lines between personal danger and professional chaos blur.

A/N: Okay, folks, this just got real. 😬💀 Can’t decide if I’m more scared for you or for us reading this. Let me know what you think—are we in too deep now?

Love Kills Masterlist

After Liam, the ache in your chest feels like an endless hollow void, sharp and unrelenting. Every corner of your life seems touched by the breakup, from the quiet of your apartment to the songs that once brought you joy. The case files piled on your desk don’t help—they’re a relentless reminder of lives shattered, of a puzzle you can’t seem to solve.

You need something—anything—to fill the void.

The decision to try online dating feels impulsive, reckless even, but you’re desperate for a distraction, and you convince yourself it’s harmless.

Creating a profile feels strangely vulnerable, like baring a piece of yourself to strangers. You agonize over the details, editing and re-editing until the words seem to form a version of you that even you don’t entirely recognize. It’s just a distraction, you remind yourself, hitting “submit.”

Days pass in a blur of monotony—swiping through profiles, exchanging half-hearted greetings, and deleting messages that don’t spark interest. Then, one evening, your phone buzzes with a notification.

Mark-ed4Luv: “Hey there! Love your taste in music. Want to talk about it?”

The message is simple, almost casual, but something about it cuts through the haze of your day. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing a reply.

Cupid’sDetective: “Sure! I’m really into indie and alternative—what about you?”

His response is quick, thoughtful, and surprisingly specific:

Mark-ed4Luv: “Those genres have so much depth! I’m into them too, but I can’t resist a good classic rock playlist. Have you ever tried journaling while listening to music? It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”

A small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. His words are unassuming yet genuine, carrying a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed.

Mark becomes a constant presence in your days. At first, it’s harmless—friendly exchanges about books, music, and life. But as days turn into weeks, his messages take on a more personal tone, filled with thoughtful observations and surprising attentiveness.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he admits one evening. The words linger on the screen, their sincerity both comforting and disarming.

It’s not just his words that draw you in; it’s the way he remembers the smallest details. The novels you mentioned only in passing, your favorite coffee blend, the lilies you once said were beautiful but fleeting. His thoughtfulness feels like a balm, soothing the wounds Liam left behind.

When bouquets of lilies and handwritten notes begin arriving at your doorstep, you’re caught off guard by their sweetness. Each gift feels like a piece of him, deliberate and intentional.

But soon, the sweetness turns cloying. The attention that once felt comforting begins to weigh on you, like a coat too heavy for its season.

“How did you know about the mints?” you text him one evening, staring at the small tin he sent—your favorite flavor, no less.

Mark-ed4Luv: “I pay attention,” he replies, his words deliberate. “It’s the little things that matter most.”

His response should be reassuring, but instead, it feels calculated. A pit forms in your stomach, but you push it aside. He’s just thoughtful, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

Meanwhile, the serial killer case spirals further into chaos. Another victim is discovered, their life extinguished in the same gruesome pattern. But this time, the killer leaves something new: a note addressed directly to you.

You still haven’t caught me. You never will.

The words feel like a slap, mocking your efforts and twisting the knife of doubt already lodged in your chest.

When Price calls to relay the details, his voice is tense. “This just got personal,” he says grimly.

You meet him at the precinct, your hands trembling as you read the note for yourself. The handwriting is deliberate, almost playful.

“You’re not yourself,” Price says, studying your face. “What’s going on?”

You shake your head, your mind racing. “I’m fine,” you lie, but the strain in your voice betrays you.

“Look,” Price says gently, “this killer knows you. They’re targeting you. And whatever’s happening in your personal life? It’s bleeding into this case.”

You nod, his words barely registering. Your thoughts are elsewhere—on Mark, on his uncanny attentiveness, on the unsettling coincidences piling up around you.

Mark’s messages continue, each one more intimate than the last.

“Hey, I found this little trinket that reminded me of you. Can’t wait to share it!”

His enthusiasm should feel endearing, but it sends a chill down your spine. The gifts, the attention, the perfect timing—it’s all too much.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you decide to confront him—gently, but directly.

“How do you always seem to know what I need?” you text, your fingers trembling.

His reply is immediate:

“I just listen. Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone who truly listens?”

The words feel like a mirror, reflecting your own desires back at you. But they also feel like a trap, wrapping you in a net of your own making.

Meanwhile, the killer’s shadow looms larger. Each new victim is a message, a cruel reminder of their power. And the line between the case and your personal life blurs further.

Late one night, your phone buzzes. An unknown number flashes on the screen.

“You’re closer than you think,” a distorted voice says before the line goes dead.

Your heart pounds as you stare at the phone, the room suddenly too quiet. The call is a taunt, a game, and you’re the unwilling player.

You begin piecing together the connections late one night, your apartment a labyrinth of crime scene photos, timelines, and scribbled notes.

The killer targets people with public-facing lives—an artist, a teacher, an accountant. People whose routines were predictable, whose lives were exposed in small, seemingly innocent ways.

The next morning, Price calls you into his office. “We’ve got something,” he says, sliding a folder across the desk. Inside are surveillance photos from one of the victim’s neighborhoods. 

A hooded figure lingers near the victim’s house, their face obscured.

“It’s not much,” Price admits, “but it’s a lead.”

You study the photos, the grainy images sparking a glimmer of hope, but every nerve in your body is on edge. “We need to track them. If we can figure out where they were before and after this…”

“We’re on it,” Price assures you. “I’ve already got a team on it. But you need to stay focused. Whoever this is, they’re watching you. Don’t let them get in your head.”

Easier said than done, you think, but you nod anyway.

As the days turn into weeks, the case consumes you. The notes stop, but the silence feels more ominous than the messages ever did. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched, that every step is leading you closer to a trap.

And then it happens.

One evening, as you leave the precinct, your car refuses to start. Frustrated, you pop the hood, only to find a single red rose lying on the engine block.

Your blood runs cold. The killer is closer than you ever imagined,  just like they said.

You call Price immediately. “They were here,” you say, your voice trembling. “They left a rose in my car.”

“We’ll handle it,” he promises, but you can hear the tension in his voice.

That night, sleep eludes you. Every creak of your apartment, every passing car outside, feels like a harbinger of danger.

You sit in the dark, your mind racing. This isn’t just about solving the case anymore—it’s about survival. And as you stare at the crime board on your wall, a chilling realization washes over you: the killer isn’t just watching. They’re waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

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[hyunjin-amore]

Strawhats react to S/o giving them kisses

Luffy

Luffy might not be used to getting kisses from people, so his initial reaction would probably be one of surprise and bewilderment. But since he's an adventurous and fun-loving guy, he would probably reply with a mix of joy and laughter. He might give you a big hug or playfully return the kisses. Given Luffy's reputation for being carefree and impulsive, he would be happy to receive the affection and relish the occasion.

Zoro

If his significant other started kissing him, Zoro would probably react with a mix of surprise and nervousness. He might not be accustomed to or anticipate such loving gestures because he is a somber and serious character. On the other hand, he would secretly value his S/O's love and attention. At first, he might try to ignore it or appear indifferent, but a tiny blush or smile could be visible on his face. All in all, even though he might not verbally thank you, his sweetie's kisses would undoubtedly have an effect on him.

Sanji

Sanji's response would be significantly different from Zoro's. Given his reputation for flirting and his unwavering quest for love and affection, Sanji would be ecstatic to receive kisses from his significant other. He would probably be ecstatic and express his gratitude honestly, grinning broadly and perhaps even displaying some tearful reactions. Sanji would probably tell his sweetie how fortunate he is to have such a caring and loving partner while complimenting her. He would feel loved and appreciated by the kisses, and he would probably reciprocate with more kisses and tender gestures.

Franky

 

Given his exuberant nature and fondness for ostentatious and ostentatious things, Franky would undoubtedly react enthusiastically if his partner planted kisses on him. It would probably take him a while to realize what was going on, but then his signature smile would appear on his face. In response, Franky would react with a mixture of surprise, joy, and a hint of his signature "SUPER" excitement. He may even flex his muscles or strike a pose to express how much he appreciates the affection. Franky would probably give his S/O bear hugs and maybe even a few playful kisses in return, kissing them with the same intensity.  All in all, Franky would be overjoyed and would interpret this show of affection as evidence of his close relationship with his partner.

Nami

Given her reputation for practicality and financial acumen, Nami might be surprised at first when her partner plants kisses on her. She may be a little doubtful or even suspicious, wondering if the show of affection is being made for a different reason. But her attitude would soften as she began to understand that it was a sincere and heartfelt gesture.

Nami would probably react in a way that was both surprising and grateful. She may blush or smile shyly, expressing her love in a more subdued manner. Even though Nami isn't as ostentatious or showy as some of the other members of the Straw Hat crew, she would undoubtedly value the consideration and care that went into the gift.

Nami could show her appreciation in a pragmatic manner by providing something in exchange, such as surprising her partner with a special dinner or doing something kind for them. Even though Nami might not be very touchy-feely or affectionate, she would know how important it is to return the favors. In the end, she would strengthen her relationship with her partner and interpret it as a sign of trust.

Robin

As the cool-headed archaeologist on the Straw Hat team, Robin would probably respond to her partner kissing her in a calm and considerate way. She would be thoughtful and mature in her response, and she would appreciate the loving gesture.

Robin would probably give you a warm smile and maybe a gentle touch in return for your kisses. She would thank her partner for their affection and cherish the closeness and connection they shared. Given her reputation for intelligence and analysis, Robin might also pause to watch her partner's actions, attempting to decipher the motivations and feelings that underlie the gesture.

Even though she wouldn't say it out loud, Robin would show her gratitude with her words and deeds. She could give her partner a heartfelt thank you or communicate her emotions in a cool, collected manner. Robin would be able to appreciate the importance of the situation and her partner's faith in her, strengthening their relationship.

All things considered, Robin's answer would be considerate and genuine, demonstrating her depth of feeling and comprehension of her partner's loving gesture.

Usopp

The bold and creative sniper of the Straw Hat team, Usopp, would react more animatedly if his sweetheart planted a kiss on him. Recognized for his theatrical demeanor and exaggerated facial expressions, Usopp would probably be surprised by the gesture of affection but would probably end up being delighted.

When his partner planted a kiss on him, Usopp would look wide-eyed and shocked at first. He might even make funny gestures with his arms or trip over his words. But as the shock wears off, a broad smile appears on his face, showing how happy he really is.

Usopp wouldn't think twice about showing his partner how happy and appreciative he is of their affection. He may give a hearty applause or perhaps start to jump up and down. Usopp is well known for inflating tales and feelings, so he would show his significant other a lot of love and praise.

Usopp may even feign being overcome by the kisses, swooning dramatically or playfully acting as though he's weak in the knees, all in his trademark exaggerated style. His partner would feel valued and loved by his lively and playful response.

All things considered, Usopp would be ecstatic to receive a kiss from his significant other, and his trademark humor would be present as well. He would take advantage of the chance to show his partner how much he cared in a lighthearted and entertaining way, making the moment enjoyable and unforgettable for both of them.