#this is literally the once in a lifetime moment where i want to do this fully so like. i have to see it through | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktownshizzle · 4 months ago

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A Christmas Encore | Part 2 of 2

Part of A Holly, Jolly Holiday with Min Yun-Kay collab with @yooglefics

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it.

When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only. Cheesy, sometimes theatrical dialogue (just roll with it please), Christmas cliches, Yoongi at the Christmas concert is this right here), mild angst, cursing, minor mention of the pandemic, penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Yoongi's company/job is vague (it's fine!), did I say cheesy??

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: ~7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting Date: January 13, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello ho ho. Sorry it took a while to get this out! I was being a little scrooge by the end of this (who knew Christmas fics can be super challenging?) I do hope you enjoy part 2 of my little Hallmark-inspired Holiday gift. Enjoy! 🫶🏼🎉

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Yoongi doesn’t make a big deal out of your first date, but it still feels perfect. He takes you to a quiet café just outside town, the kind of place you’d never think to visit but where the coffee is rich and the pastries are warm.

The conversation comes easy—too easy, maybe. You laugh more than you have in weeks, just like old times. As you talk about the coming concert, an idea pops in your head. It’s not that serious, if anything, you just want to tease him a bit. “Maybe you and Hobi should do a breakdance routine at the show!”

He slurps the final dredges of his coffee, blinks up once, before blatantly ignoring you.

“Oh, come on, you really don’t miss breakdancing?” you try again.

“I don’t miss it. Do you?” He raises a brow.

“Miss what?”

“Miss him.”

Suddenly, you’re the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “Oh, Yoongi…”

He averts his gaze, lip curving in the barest of ways before he looks down, poking the base of his glass with his straw. He’s a little embarrassed.

You sigh, endeared to no end as you see the tips of his ears growing red by the second. You decide to take him out of his misery. “No, Yoongi, I do not miss Hoseok that way. We’re really just friends.”

Yoongi groans, slouching back in his chair, and, not gonna lie, it makes you feel some typa way.

You wonder if he sees you now as some homie hopper slash town harlot, which fuck him if does so you ask. “Does it really bother you?”

Probably sensing the weight in your voice, he leans forward quickly and takes both your hands to reassure you. “Fuck, no. I’m just… shit I’m so bad at this.”

“At what?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

You shrug.

Yoongi huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back, but his gaze lingers on you, his expression softening. “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”

“Yeah, it took us only all of a decade and a half,” you roll your eyes. “A literal pandemic had to happen.”

He’s quiet for a moment, looking at you again with his piercing stare—apologetic, maybe. “I’m not too late, right?”

You think you might just melt if it wasn’t below zero outside.

When Yoongi invites you back to his parents’ house that night, you don’t hesitate.

You head straight to his room and it instantly feels smaller than you remember, even if you were just there weeks ago. But it’s still so homey and familiar, full of little remnants of the boy you used to know—the boy you loved before you knew what it meant to really love someone.

And then he kisses you again, over and over, against the poster-covered wooden door, and all the years you spent apart fall away like snowflakes dissolving against your skin.

The way you make your way back to each other is slow and careful, but it doesn’t take long for the tension that’s been building for weeks to snap. His hands are warm against your skin, his lips soft and insistent, and when he pulls you onto the bed, it’s with a gentleness that leaves you breathless.

He sits by the headboard, guiding you towards his lap. He bites his lip as you situate yourself over him, grunting when you make contact against his crotch.

“Is Teenage Yoongi losing his mind right now?” You joke lightly, straddling his hips as you start unbuttoning your blouse, revealing your red lace bra.

He growls, actually growls. “Who cares about that loser,” he pulls you to capture your bottom lip while you shrug your blouse off. “Present Yoongi is so fucking hard right now, do somethin’ bout it…”

“Ohhh shit, Present Yoongi gets to make demands?” You plant both palms against his (apparently) really toned chest. Who knew?

“Present Yoongi hopes you’d do something about it,” he amends, taking one of your hands to kiss the inside of your wrist, once, twice, then leads your hand where your bodies are connecting.

He was not lying. In fact he may even be underselling it because while you cannot wrap your head around his sheer solidness, you certainly want to wrap your mouth around it. Shit.

You clamber off him, taking him by surprise, and he looks like you slapped him across the face.

“Relax, I got you, baby,” you say giggling as you guide his legs to swing over the side of the bed. “Go on, take that off,” you gesture to his pants while you peel yours off with a shimmy. And when he sees that all that’s left is the matching lace panty, his clothes immediately fly off to join the rest of yours.

The sight of his cock leaves your mouth watering, and you sink to your knees without further ado. You grasp his thick, velvety shaft, pumping lightly before guiding the tip towards the warmth of your mouth. You suck on the head once like a lollipop, releasing it with a tiny pop, repeating it as your eyes lock on him.

“Shit, I knew you’d look good on your knees,” he goads, biting his thumbnail with a smirk playing in his lips.

You decide you wanna erase the cocky grin on his face. So you draw him in quickly until he hits the back of your throat, the skin of your lips almost splitting from the sudden stretch. He stutters. You let drool coat his warm cock as your tongue glides up.

His deep, gravelly fuck, baby spurs you on, but also makes your basement gush. His voice is just… Ugh. You’ll deal with your own needs later, because you are on a mission.

You suck him like you’ve got a point to prove. Like he shouldn’t have left you all those years ago. Like he should’ve parked his ass right here and maybe you could’ve given it to him every damn night. Just like this.

When you hear the shortness of his breath, you know he’s really getting to it. So you suck him so damn good he’s left wondering how you got that good.

“A-a-ahh, hold up,” he stammers, stopping your movements with a gentle pull of your hair.

You sit on the balls of your feet, wiping your chin with the back of your palm. It’s your turn to have a cocky grin.

“You…” he shakes his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “My turn.”

He yanks you from the floor and throws you into the bed. And the next thing you know your panties are almost ripped from your legs and you’re spread open on top of his navy duvet like a Sunday feast.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, nosing your pussy gingerly, before giving it a whiff. “Fuck you smell so good.”

“Yoongi,” you squirm, propping your upper body with your elbows to watch the debauchery unfold. Or at least you hope so, but it seems like he wants to make you beg for it with the way he's leisurely blowing air across your damp skin.

“Please…” you beg, body tingling with desire.

“I’ve thought about this, you know,” Yoongi says looking up at you, before licking a broad stripe across your cunt. “A lot.” He does it again, tongue digging a little deeper to flick against your clitoris.

“Shit,” you tip your head back, already in a haze of lust. “Me too…”

“Really?” He shifts his position, then runs his knuckles up and down your glistening folds, each joint nudging your clit as it glides.

A cold shiver travels down your spine. “Oh god yes…”

“How are you already this wet?” he chuckles, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, pulling your leg up one shoulder.

“Yoongi,” you plead. “I didn’t tease…”

“Liar,” he says with a sinister grin, now toying with your hole with his index finger and looping your slick around like he has nothing better to do.

What in fresh hell is he talking about? And also, goddamit you need him inside you literally yesterday and he's still clowning around.

“I didn't tease you…” You whine, needy.

“Oh, but you did,” he mumbles against your skin, biting the soft flesh so close to your mound before laving it with his tongue. “Made me think you had a boyfriend, when all along, I could’ve given you this...”

You gasp as he inserts his finger inside you and already you clench around the lone intrusion.

“And this,” he adds another.

You don't even realize you're bucking your hips up until he guides you back down with an infuriating smile. “Easy, baby, we got all night.”

“But, your cock. Need it…”

“Maybe. You gon’ be a good girl for me?”

You nod. Yes, you want to be his good girl.

Finally he gives you mercy, and his mouth connects with your clit and sucks and you feel like heaven. Two fingers slide in and out of you in practiced strokes. You're already so wound up, it doesn't take long for you to kiss euphoria.

“Feels so good, Yoon…” You fist his sheets, back arching up, as you feel your demise fast approaching. He notices.

“Let go, baby.” he says, before the furious lashing of his tongue resumes against your nub.

Keeping the pace steady, he curls his fingers just slightly, allowing the pads to massage your walls until he finds the one spot that–

Fuck.

Light bursts behind your lids as you come, fast, hard, loud with a prolonged moan of his name.

Your back meets the bed’s plush as your orgasm washes over you. But before you come down, you feel a fresh surge of bliss as Yoongi takes a nipple inside his mouth, giving it tiny nibbles.

Your free arm reaches for his cock. He lifts his hip up slightly, so you can give it a few lazy strokes.

Before long, he shifts completely, leaning over you, his hair brushing against your forehead in feathery strokes. The ache inside you both lingers, unsated, but the world seems to slow around you. There’s a tenderness in the way he moves—his lips tracing a delicate path along your face. He presses soft kisses to your eyelids, your cheek, and the curve of your jaw, each one deliberate, each one unraveling you a little more.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember,” he says before meeting your mouth for a kiss so sweet, your head is in the clouds again. “Do you still hate me, baby?”

You kiss him back, your reply coming in breathy cadences as your lips melt against each other. “I… don’t think… I ever could.”

And it’s true, wrapped around each other like this, the pains of the past slowly ebb away.

You feel a small smile on his lips, maybe a hint of relief. His tongue pushes in yours as you feel his cock rubbing up against your pussy lips, both of you breathing heavily with the delicious friction. He ruts up a few more times before you feel his blunt tip breaching your entrance, not going all the way in but teasing it in a way that leaves you wanting more, more, more and now.

“Get in me, Yoon. Want it…”

His reply is the push of this thick cock inside you, slow and slick, before he bottoms out with a grunt. You keen, your body bowing towards him on instinct, legs wrapping against his back.

He fills you up, wholly and completely, with every smooth stroke, your walls flutter around his girth and your heart is thumping against your ribcage, but you know it’s not just the ecstasy from your impending release. It’s from the way your eyes meet and you feel like you’re drowning again. Just like you did the first time. And you don’t ever want to come up for air.

“I’m so close…” your voice is strangled when you say it, your fingers clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

His mouth finds that sensitive spot under your ear, licking it, encouraging you to take it with whispers you can’t decipher. Your brain is so fucking empty, and all you know is every fibre of your being is submitting to him at this very moment.

“You feel amazing, fuck,” he grunts, tone as desperate as you are. “You gonna cream for me again, huh?” His thrusts get faster, deeper and it feels like your about to tip over the edge.

“Ah– baby, I’m coming…” Your entire body quivers against him as intense pleasure racks your body.

The rest is a blur as your eyes flutter shut, and Yoongi groans as he spills his seed against your clammy skin, hot liquid pooling on the inside of your thigh.

Later, after he cleans you up and gives you the cuddles your tired body craves for, you’re tangled together in the sheets. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You’re hit with de ja vu.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper.

Yoongi’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs.

This time, you believe him with all your heart.

The days that follow feel like they belong to someone else. Someone living a life where everything falls perfectly into place—where the person they once thought they’d lost forever suddenly fits back into their world like they’d never been gone.

The tree lot smells like pine and cold, sharp winter air. You rub your hands together to keep them warm, your breath fogging in front of you as Yoongi stands a few steps away, examining a tree with a furrowed brow.

“This one’s perfect,” you say, pointing to the lush, symmetrical pine beside him. The store owner even added some gold tinsel on it to dress it up for buyers, making it look super sunshine-y and brilliant.

He turns, glancing at the tree. “It’s too… obvious,” he says, his lips twitching. “Look at it. It’s trying too hard.”

You laugh. “How can a tree try too hard?”

“It’s trying too hard to make you take them home,” Yoongi says, moving down the row. He stops in front of a shorter, slightly scraggly tree, with whitish branches and paler pine needles. “This one’s got character.”

“It’s literally lopsided… and so pale…”

“It’s cool,” he counters, brushing snow off one of the branches. Strangely, they even have the same height. “This is the underdog tree. You should root for it.”

You cross your arms, pretending to consider. “Or… we could go with a tree that doesn’t look like it fought a bear and lost.”

Yoongi looks back at you, his dark eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Nah, you’ve got zero vision.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of vision,” you retort, stepping closer. “You’re the one who—”

Before you can finish, he shakes a branch, sending a spray of snow directly onto your face.

“Yoongi!” you shout, jumping back and wiping at your eye, careful not to smudge your perfectly drawn eyeliner.

He smirks, unapologetic. “Underdog tree got bite.”

Later, back at your place, the tree you agreed on stands in your living room. When it’s finally lit, glowing softly in the corner of the room, you look over at Yoongi and find him watching you, his face softened by the light.

“What?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He shrugs, his gaze lingering. “Nothing.”

Your eyes move towards the tinsel and the lights, “Underdog tree does have character.”

“I fuckin’ told you.” He grabs you from behind, excited that you finally saw his vision, and plants several kisses on your cheek.

“This is a terrible idea,” you mutter, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

“You’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, already gliding onto the ice with an infuriating amount of ease. “Just let go of the railing. You’re overthinking it.”

“Overthinking it?!” you sputter, inching forward like a baby deer learning to walk. “This isn’t natural. People weren’t meant to stand on blades and slide around!”

Yoongi smirks, skating backward so he can face you, his movements smooth and effortless. “Aren’t you the one who’s lived here forever? Shouldn’t you be the pro?”

You shoot him a glare, your knees wobbling. “Skating and living in Seollim Hollow are not the same thing.”

“Sure they aren’t,” he teases, extending a hand toward you. “Come on. I won’t let you fall.”

You eye his outstretched hand with suspicion. “If I fall, I’m taking you with me.”

“Deal.”

Reluctantly, you release your death grip on the railing and grab his hand. The ice feels impossibly slippery beneath your feet, and your balance shifts precariously as you stumble forward.

“Whoa—” Yoongi steadies you, his grip firm. “You really suck at this, still.”

“I told you, ughhhh,” you grumble, trying not to panic as he starts pulling you along.

“You just need to loosen up,” he says, clearly holding back a laugh. “Stop thinking so much.”

“I’m going to die,” you say flatly as your skates skid in opposite directions.

“Not on my watch.”

Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours as he leads you into the center of the rink. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go, guiding you with patience as you wobble and shriek your way through your first lap. By the time you’ve gone around twice, you’re still far from graceful, but at least you’re no longer clinging to him for dear life. -ish.

“You’re getting the hang of it.”

“No thanks to you,” you retort.

“The fuck?” he says, letting go of you abruptly and you shriek, flailing.

But he captures you effortlessly and spins you around and suddenly you’re hugging in the middle of the rink. You’re still catching your breath when you look up at him, then he leans down and kisses you.

“Is this some kind of fantasy you’re trying to fulfill, Min Yoongi?”

“I’m just trying to make up for lost time.” Then, he leans in again and from the corner of your eye you spot a mom shielding her son from the sight of you and Yoongi, before your eyes flutter shut.

“I forgot you always liked to yap during movies,” Yoongi says, mouth forming a straight line.

“This movie’s so boring,” you reply, gesturing at the screen. “How can you be into this? It’s so… predictable.”

“That’s the point,” he says, leaning back into the couch. “Christmas movies are supposed to be predictable.”

Despite your apprehension, you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch, tolerating the movie and before you know it you’re engrossed with the plot, because, umm, it’s actually so good?!

“Omo! He came back for—” you turn to him and well, he’s fallen asleep, like the bobblehead toy on your car’s dash.

You move his head gently against your shoulder, his breath evening out. For a moment, you consider waking him, but instead, you let yourself relax, leaning slightly into his warmth.

From this view you can see his long lashes, the gentle slope of his nose, the soft curve of his lips and you’re suddenly flooded with emotions that you thought you buried so long ago. Maybe it’s meant to be this time. So you allow yourself to quietly admit it.

“I love you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you.

The snow crunches softly beneath your boots as the two of you walk side by side, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. The town is quiet at this hour, the streets lit by the faint glow of holiday lights, and for a while, neither of you says anything.

“I used to hate this,” Yoongi says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hate what?”

“Winter,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The cold. The snow. I felt… stuck. Like nothing ever changed.”

You glance at him, your breath fogging in the air. “And now?”

He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. “It doesn’t feel so bad anymore.”

The words are simple, quiet, but they satisfy you in a way you don’t expect.

At some point, Yoongi bends down and scoops up a handful of snow, tossing it lightly at your shoulder.

“Fuck! Did you just—”

“Snowball fight?” he interrupts, smirking.

You retaliate immediately, grabbing snow and throwing it at him with no hesitation. The two of you dissolve into laughter, dodging and weaving through the empty street until you’re both breathless and covered in snow.

“Truce,” Yoongi says, holding up his hands.

“Fine,” you reply, grinning as you catch your breath.

For a moment, you just stand there, the snow falling softly around you. Yoongi’s eyes linger on yours, his expression softer now, and your heart stumbles at the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize this moment.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For this,” he murmurs, gesturing around him. “For reminding me why I came back.”

You and Yoongi fall into an easy rhythm, one that feels almost too good to be true. Mornings at the cultural center turn into afternoons spent working side by side—him scribbling notes onto sheet music while you answer emails and manage ticket sales. Sometimes, you’ll both stop to grab dinner at the little diner down the street or head back to your place where you cook something simple while he steals pieces of food off your cutting board.

Nights are quieter. Softer. When the world feels too still, Yoongi finds his way to your side—whether it’s a late phone call or the two of you under your duvet.

You don’t talk about what happens next. You don’t ask if he’ll stay when the concert is over, and he doesn’t offer to explain.

The night of the concert is perfect.

The performers are brilliant—the children’s choir sings their hearts out, the folk band gets the crowd clapping, and the dancers earn a standing ovation. Yoongi’s arrangements tie everything together seamlessly, each note lifting the room higher and higher until it feels like the entire town is glowing.

Before he goes on stage, Yoongi gives you a mini heart attack. He tells you that he’s playing a different piece. Trust me, he says.

You don’t say much after, because while you don’t like to be blindsided for an important night like this, you also trust his judgment.

And when Yoongi takes the stage, sitting at the piano under the soft glow of the stage lights, you think you might actually cry. He adjusts the mic, shakes his newly dyed black hair, and starts to play. It’s a song you’ve never heard before—something gentle and wistful, the kind of melody that wraps itself around you like a memory. You watch his hands move across the keys, effortless and sure, his expression soft with focus, and you realize you’ve never seen him look more himself than he does in this moment.

Suddenly Jungkook’s angelic vocals slide seamlessly through the melody, “Was it honestly the best…”

For the first time in years, you let yourself hope that the best is yet to come.

When the concert ends and the crowd finally clears, you and your team stay late, cleaning up the venue, storing props, and celebrating quietly with a bottle of champagne Jimin “borrowed” from the local bar. Yoongi stays, too, quietly helping to pack away cables and lights while Jungkook regales the group with exaggerated stories about the night’s performances.

It’s not until the clock hits two in the morning that you’re finally back home, exhausted but still buzzing with the afterglow of the show.

When you wake the next morning, it feels like the entire world is holding its breath. Today is the day. Today, you’ll know if it was enough.

The cultural center feels too quiet as you sit at your desk, staring at the final numbers. Your chest feels tight, the numbers swimming on the page no matter how many times you try to tally them.

You didn’t raise enough. You’re 10 per cent short.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut, and you have to close your eyes for a moment to steady yourself. It’s so close—painfully close—but it’s not enough. And you ran out of time.

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab your coat.

Mr. Choi doesn’t look surprised when you tell him.

“You did good,” he says, though his voice is heavy with finality. “But it’s not enough to match their offer. I’m sorry.”

“There has to be another way,” you insist, the desperation creeping into your voice. “What if I talk to the buyer? What if they’ll accept—”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You can try,” he says reluctantly. “The buyer’s representative is still in town.”

Your heart skips. “Who is it?”

He flips through a file on his desk, his tone casual as he reads the document, “Min Yoongi.”

The room tilts. You stare at him, uncomprehending. “Who?”

“Min Yoongi,” he repeats, glancing up at you. “He’s the representative for the corporation looking to buy the property. I can give you his e-mail address…”

The words hit you like ice water, each one sinking deeper until you can’t breathe. Yoongi.

It doesn’t make sense. How could he—?

Why would he—?

You don’t even remember leaving the municipal office. You don’t remember driving to Yoongi’s house, pounding on the door.

“Yoongi.”

“Hey,” he starts, his expression shifting when he sees your face. “What’s—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. Just tell me the truth, Yoongi. Were you ever going to tell me you’re the buyer?”

The color drains from his face. “You found out.”

“That’s all you have to say?” you snap, your chest tightening as the hurt spills out of you. “You fucking lied to me, Yoongi. This whole time—why? Why would you let me fight for this place if you were just going to take it away?”

“I wasn’t going to take it away,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “Not anymore.”

You stare at him, disbelief crashing into you. “What does that even mean?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It means I didn’t know what this place still meant to you when I came back. I thought it was just another deal. Another property my company wanted to acquire.”

“And when you did know?” Your voice cracks, your anger laced with pain. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Yoongi hesitates, his hands curling into fists. “Because I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations. You ruined it anyway.”

“Stop,” he says softly, reaching out, but you step back. “Let me finish.”

“No.” you say. “This,” gesturing to him and you, “is finished.”

The next few days are a blur of misery. The maknaes try to distract you, but nothing works. Yoongi’s absence feels like a physical thing—an ache that sits heavy in your chest no matter what you do.

The memory of his voice echoes in your mind, soft and broken, but it only makes the pain in your heart worse.

When you hear from his mother that he’s left town, it shouldn’t surprise you. Of course he’s gone. That’s what Yoongi does.

But somehow, it hurts more this time.

Christmas Day comes and goes.

For the first time in forever, you don’t get a post card from Yoongi.

The glow from your phone illuminates the room as the opening chords of Last Christmas begin to play through your Bluetooth speaker. You’re on your bed, surrounded by chaos—crumpled tissues, a mostly empty tub of ice cream balanced precariously on your thigh, and the infamous box of postcards from Yoongi spilled across your sheets.

The postcards feel heavier than they should, each one like a tiny punch to the chest. You pick one up at random—a simple postcard of a Seoul skyline dusted with snow. Yoongi’s neat handwriting is scrawled on the back: Merry Christmas. Hope you’re staying warm.

Snot drips onto the edge of the card, and you yelp, scrambling to wipe it off. “Oh my God, I’ve hit rock bottom,” you groan, tossing the tissue into the general direction of the trash can but missing entirely.

You glance at the box again, and the next card catches your eye. You sniffle harder, and your vision blurs again.

Your eyes land on one of the Polaroids from the box, its edges slightly bent from years of flipping through them. It’s an old selfie Yoongi sent—his mint green hair poking out from under a beanie, but his sharp eyes and stupidly pretty smirk still visible. “I hate you,” you mumble, though the ache in your chest says otherwise.

You grab a Sharpie from your nightstand and draw devil horns sprouting from his head, a dramatic handlebar mustache, and, for good measure, a pitchfork in the corner.

Three sharp knocks sound at the door, startling you. You quickly swipe at your face, sitting up. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Hoseok’s voice calls through the door.

Oh no. You glance at the mess around you—the tissues, the ice cream, the pile of Yoongi memorabilia that screams pathetic. “Go away, Hobi! I’m fine.”

The door creaks open anyway, and Hoseok steps in, his ever-present sunshine energy cutting through the gloom of your room. You forget he knows where the spare key is hidden.

He takes one look at you—puffy eyes, snotty tissues, Wham still crooning in the background—and doesn’t bother to hide his grin. “Wow. This is a whole ass vibe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing a pillow weakly in his direction.

He catches it easily, stepping further into the room. His eyes fall on the postcards scattered across the bed, and his teasing expression softens. “So it’s true, then.”

You blink. “What’s true?”

Hoseok sets the pillow down and walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed. He doesn’t say anything right away, just glances at the Polaroid still clutched in your hand. “I’m not even gonna ask about that. Yoongi told me what happened.”

Your stomach twists, embarrassment rising like a tidal wave. “Great. Now everyone knows how much of an idiot I am.”

“Hey,” he says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. Yoongi’s the idiot.”

That gets a weak laugh out of you, and Hoseok’s smile widens. He leans in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. It’s so warm, so comforting, that you let yourself melt into it, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know how much he means to you.”

You sniffle. “Why do you sound like he’s dead?”

Hoseok laughs, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because you’re acting like it.”

“Did he send you here?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No,” Hoseok says quickly. “But he… he wants you to hear him out. He messed up, yeah, but…” He glances at the postcards again. “You guys are made for each other. That’s obvious. Even to a third party like me.”

You groan, throwing yourself back onto the bed dramatically. “It’s not that simple, Hobi.”

“Nothing about love is simple,” he says, lying down beside you. His gaze moves to the ceiling as he continues. “And honestly? You two are the most disgustingly in love people I’ve ever seen.”

Your head snaps toward him. “We are not—”

“Oh, really?” Hoseok interrupts, his grin returning. “Because I saw you and Yoongi making out in the middle of the skating rink. Right there. In public. In front of children.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

“Yeah. Had to shield my eyes from the sheer amount of PDA,” he teases. “I almost called it in as a public disturbance.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. A real, genuine laugh that feels like it breaks through the heaviness in your chest. “You’re so stupid.”

He glances at the mess on your bed one more time before standing. “Look, I’m not saying you have to forgive him right now. But at least let him explain. You deserve to know the truth.”

He pats your head lightly, like a parent soothing a child. “Now, go wash your face. You look like Mrs. Claus who failed a breathalyzer.”

“That’s a dumb joke!” You chuck a pillow at him again, but this time, you’re laughing as he dodges it and disappears out the door.

For the first time in days, you feel a little lighter.

When Mr. Choi calls you the next morning, you almost don’t pick up.

“The offer’s been retracted,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with disbelief. “The cultural center is safe.”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

“Not only that,” he continues, “but the previous buyer left a donation to help fund renovations. You can expand the center. Improve it.”

Your heart stops. You didn’t need to ask who.

You already know.

It’s New Year’s Eve. You don’t know why today of all days you finally get a grip on your emotions. You figure today is just as good as any other to do something crazy.

You clutch your phone in your hand, Yoongi’s name glaring up at you in your call history, unanswered. You don’t know what you’ll say when you find him, or if he’ll even want to see you, but you have to see him. You have to know why he did this—why he left, why he pulled out of the deal, why he did it all without saying a word.

The hours stretch long and thin, and by the time the bus pulls into the station in Seoul, the city is already blanketed in a soft layer of snow.

The snow falls softly around you as you stand in front of Yoongi’s apartment building (his eomma was more than willing to text the address), your breath clouding in the air. When he opens the door, his eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything—he just steps aside, letting you in.

“I heard what you did,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “The center’s safe. You even donated to help renovate it.”

Yoongi exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He looks at you, his dark eyes soft but unsteady, bags underneath it from many a sleepless night. “Because it was the right thing to do. And because I owed it to you—to the town—to make up for leaving the way I did.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “You didn’t owe me anything, Yoongi. You could’ve just told me.”

“I know,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But I didn’t know how to. And I was scared. Scared that if I told you, I’d ruin the one good thing I’ve had in years.”

“Yoongi…”

“I stayed quiet because I thought I could fix it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I knew if I told you the truth, you’d hate me. And I didn’t want that—I couldn’t risk losing you again. So I started looking for another way. I’ve been talking to my company, trying to get them to pull out of the deal, to reallocate the funds to save the center instead.”

You blink, his words sinking in slowly. “You… what?”

“I’ve been trying to undo it,” he says, his dark eyes heavy with something you can’t quite name. “I tried to help in whatever way I could, because you—you deserve to win. You deserve to have that place. I just…” He exhales shakily. “I messed up.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, confusion swirling in your chest.

He takes a step closer, his gaze steady now. “I’m sorry. For everything—for leaving, for lying, for not trusting you enough to tell you the truth. I just…” He hesitates, his voice faltering.

“You didn’t have to leave,” you say, your voice trembling. “You didn’t have to run. I know I pushed you away when I found out that you were the buyer. But if you told it to me in the first place, I would’ve understood,” you admit, the words catching in your throat. “I would’ve believed you.”

Yoongi watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint musk of his cologne.

“Would you have asked me to stay?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, unable to look away. “Yes.”

The word hangs between you, suspended in the air, and something in Yoongi’s gaze softens.

“I’m here now,” he says quietly. “I’m not running. I’m not leaving. I don’t want to.”

He reaches up slowly, hesitantly, and brushes a snowflake from your cheek with the back of his knuckles. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends warmth spreading through you, curling in your chest and settling deep in your bones.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, inches apart. And then Yoongi leans in, closing the distance between you, and kisses you. Your lips slide against his, your hands curling into the front of his sweater as the rest of your worries fall away.

When you finally pull back, breathless and trembling, Yoongi rests his forehead lightly against yours, his hands still cradling your face. Before he can lean in again,

“Come home,” you whisper, the word escaping before you can stop it.

Yoongi looks at you with something so raw, so vulnerable, it takes your breath away. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice deep. “If you want me to, I will.”

You nod, your tears spilling over now. “I really do.”

“Good, because I’m out of a job and I need you to fund my unhealthy caffeine addiction.”

“What?”

“It’s ok, I’ve been thinking about it for years anyway.” He shrugs, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “I came to Seoul for music, but somehow I got roped into the capitalism I’ve always hated. Moving back feels… right.”

Later, you find yourselves on his rooftop, bundled together under a fleece blanket as the fireworks light up the Han River below. You share his bougie white truffle parmesan & rosemary popcorn (it’s actually good, though) and a bottle of chardonnay. You lean against his shoulder, link your hands together, hearts full of the promise of a new beginning.

You settle in your seat as the bus begins its journey back to Seollim Hollow. Yoongi had to stay behind for a few days to tie up loose ends, but the promise of his return lingers like a heartbeat in your chest.

As the city fades into the distance, your phone buzzes with a new message.

Yoongi: Check your coat pocket

Intrigued, you reach inside, your fingers brushing against something small and stiff. When you pull it out, your breath catches.

It’s a postcard.

His handwriting is as familiar as ever, the letters neat but tilted just slightly to the left. This time, though, the message is different.

Not a simple Merry Christmas.

Not a quick Hope you’re well.

Not some generic line he thought you might want to hear.

This one has only three words.

I love you.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the card, the edges soft from where it’s been handled. The words feel heavy, monumental, a promise etched onto paper.

You press the postcard to your chest, your eyes stinging as the bus carries you closer to home. Though, when you think about it, home feels like a person you just left in a high-rise in Hannam.

A week later, you find Yoongi standing on your doorstep, that gummy smile you love lighting up his face. His suitcase sits at his side, snowflakes caught in his hair, and he looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever asked.

“Hi,” he says softly, his voice warm despite the cold.

“Hi,” you say, leaning against the door frame.

And in that moment, you know—this is it. The chance to start over. The start of something real, something you both waited for, something you’ll build up piece by piece.

And finally, you’ll live a life you’ll both love.

Together.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed my first Holiday fic ever. If it feels extra cheesy and sappy than my other stories, it’s Hallmark-inspired so it needed to be that way. 🙂 As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section. A reblog would also be amazing!

Thank you so much for reading this you lovely, beautiful human xo

And I know it’s already been days since we kicked off 2025, but I hope you have had an amazing start to the year and the rest of the days are filled with love, laughs, and Bangtan! 💜✨

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

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oimitocat · 7 months ago

Text

YOU TELL ME | OS

༘۠ hyunjin x artist! m!reader

༘۠ falling in love + nsfw + one night stand + fan (hyunjin) x artist (reader) + masturbation + teasing + getting together

༘۠ a/n; nothing else to add, just that the nsfw is more like a flashback than full blown smut

“this week’s biggest news! artist y/n is doing a world tour! the rising artist had caught a lot of attention not only from his new album that has reached top fifty on the billboard charts but also prying eyes from his recent attendance at a fashion event in seoul, korea! the artist has spoken about his—”

hyunjin zones out after half of the video. the video of y/n smiling catching his full attention. you have a beautiful smile, one he had fallen in love with even more the moment he saw you in person at the fashion event. up until now he’s only been seeing you through his phone, hoping for a chance in his schedule to visit your concerts and get an autograph.

“how about i sign you instead of this picture?” you ask with a mischievous grin.

“—the artist is dropping his tour list today at eight pm. comment down where you live and if you’re excited to hear his newest album in person!”

hyunjin look at the time at the top of his phone screen. it’s 6:30 am right now. which means the tour list already dropped. he quickly goes to your instagram and squeals at the sight of the post. his eyes rack the list but his smile falters after a while. you’re going to the usa, italy, portugal, germany and spain. not korea. of course, no one really comes to korea. he sighs, turning his phone off and staring out into the darkness of his room.

“i’m sorry?” he asked, confused at what you had said. “sign me?”

immediately, a paper is held up to hyunjin by a man standing next to y/n. hyunjin recognizes the paper, he doesn’t even have to read what’s on it. he knows. he looks up at you, startled and bewildered. is this… for real?

he had managed to get you on the way to the restroom. the event was still going, everyone is still sitting and socializing. he turns to his own escort. he’s never been in this situation, he himself has never asked a fan to sign the nda contract. as exhilarating as this is, it’s also very… embarrassing.

“hyunjin, right?” you ask, snapping him out of his mental turmoil. “don’t you want to get to know me?”

hyunjin swallows, “pen?”

the sight of your grin growing makes him want to combust in the spot.

he turns over, groaning out of embarrassment. did he have to sound so stupidly nervous? he can’t complain though, at the end of the day he got to experience something even better with you. the memory itself makes him a hot mess. all he had asked was when your new album would drop. he made conversation for once because it was literally a once in a lifetime opportunity.

and well…

the hotel. you were escorted to the hotel thirty minutes away from the event. the whole event you kept glancing at him. eye fucking him. not just him though, he was aware of everyone else eyeing him — yet, your eyes were what mattered most to him. he’s smiling to himself, biting his thumb until the time arrives.

he even texted felix, letting him know he’s on the verge of throwing up from nerves. all he received was a ‘liar, stop being delusional’. to which he replies with a picture of you serving him a glass of wine.

he pulls up that exact picture, eyeing your side profile. your hands— “oomf,” he groans, shoving his face into the pillow. those same hands that roamed his body.

he doesn’t exactly know what to say, he just listens to you talk. yet, his eyes are on you hand. the rings that decorate your fingers. you have one on each finger except the thumb.

he asked about it after you finish talking about how the event security did another artist dirty. you pause, looking at him intensely before smiling.

“it’s more aesthetically pleasing that way. don’t worry though, i’ll have my hands clean for you.” he stares at you with wide eyes as you lean in, after all, i want to feel you under them.”

and he leans in to kiss you.

hyunjin turns his phone off again, screaming into his pillow. the nerve he had! to kiss you! what if you thought he was desperate. well, regardless, what’s done is done. you had him and he had you. the desperation was both sided…

“you know you’re beautiful, right? why say it?” you say as you slide your hands up his inner thighs, feeling the firmness of his muscles. “you’re already a work of art,” he whines when your hand grazes his hardened member. “let me add some final touches though.”

you kiss his jaw, slowly going further down his neck. there’s a spot that get a gasp out of him. you kiss and lick, humming and moaning at his noises. he sounds so beautiful. you kiss down his collabone, his chest. as you reach his nipple, you bring your other hand up to his neck. the weight of your hand— ringless, because you had taken them off before bringing him to the bed— making him whimper. you suck and nibble on his hardened bud. he jolts and writhes under you, you have to add some pressure on his neck to get him to behave.

it’s hot. really hot. hyunjin almost cums from your attention alone. you kiss further down, your hand leaving his neck and coming down to his thighs. he gasps and buckles his hips when you kiss his leaking tip.

“don’t worry pretty,” you breathe out, smiling at how undone he’s becoming in your hands, “you’ll get what you want.” and you take him in your mouth.

hyunjin moans as he cums in his hand. he goes limp on his bed, airy breaths leaving his mouth. he closes his eyes, the last smile you threw at him before leaving the hotel replaying in his head. he remembers how weak his legs were after hours of you pounding him into the sheets. after coming four times and the aftercare that came with it.

it was so much.

yet so little.

——

weeks pass by. months. hyunjin is stuck reminiscing on the past, at some point he doesn’t. his schedule gets hectic again. there is hope though. hope that one day you two could do something again or maybe just text. it’s not possible though, his management wouldn’t allow it unless the two of you undergo some sort of process. which sucks.

he’s being delusional, especially now with how he was told two months ago that they will be attending an award ceremony. the billboard awards.

the practice is crazy. the schedule is hectic. he wants to barf at some point because you’re going to be somewhere near his seat and the thought alone makes him nervous. will you treat him indifferently? will you act like nothing happened?

“you good?” felix asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

they’re backstage now, ready to perform.

“i wanna throw up,” he confesses, giving felix a look.

the younger catches on fast. almost everyone in the group already knows now, his anxiety as the day of the awards drew near was too worrying. they all assured him they’ll have his back, yet he still doesn’t know what he’ll do if he really does become another person on your list that was a one time thing. obviously, it’s better for both of you for it to not repeat.

yet, he can’t help but be hopeful. as much as he knows it’s for the best… as much as he knows that the contract strictly says this will not be repeated… why is his heart so yearning?

he doesn’t mean to. he looks across the stage and glides over the countless faces before them when they finish their stage.

“wonderful work out there!” their managers yell out as they all file backstage. “if anyone needs to use the bathroom go now.”

“i’m good,” seungmin shrugs.

“come with me?” felix asks hyunjin, who nods.

hyunjin and felix are the only ones that go. felix happily praises him for “not spilling your guts out! see? all good!”

hyunjin rolls his eyes and shoves felix into the stall. he waits outside by the sinks, looking at himself in the mirror. he’s damp with sweat, his hair is still a little messy, they’ll do touch ups once they return.

the door opens, he’s not a social person, so he shies away and doesn’t dare look at the person.

“hey hyunjin,” you say loud enough for him to hear. he turns around, almost getting whiplash. you were standing before him, smiling warmly. “you look great,” you grin, “i’ve always wanted to see you perform…”

“ah, th-thank you, you perform in a bit, r-right?” hyunjin can’t believe it.

“yeah but…” you look around, “we could perform something else together later…”

hyunjin blinks. he wants to be swallowed up whole right now. felix is here. “i- uh…”

“hey, sorry, i don’t want us to just be hooking up… it’s hard to get past your management,” you hum, “let’s stay in contact. i liked talking to you, yeah we had fun but i like hearing your stories.”

hyunjin swallows, “ah yeah… me too, um, i could fight something out for us.”

“i’ll give you my personal number,” you offer, “just for you.”

you’re a lot closer now. he looks down at your lips, “okay, i’d like that.”

“awesome, good to know we’re on the same page.” you chuckle. “wanna wish me good luck on the stage?”

hyunjin can’t help but give you a look, “you don’t need luck, y/n.” he leans in and pecks your lips, “a kiss yes, but luck?”

you’re quite taken aback, really. yet, you grin, “yeah, i need you more.”

“ah, my teammate is here,” he ushers, panicked.

“ah,” you laugh. “okay then, one more kiss will do just fine.”

hyunjin’s heart could practically leap out of his chest.

and he kisses you, arms around your neck. he doesn’t want to let go, but with how sweet you’re being, he knows he’ll see you a lot sooner again. the hug you give him feels so good, he wishes you two had more time.

later, when you win an award. the words that come out of your mouth makes him want to die then and there.

“-and i also want to thank that person that gave me a good luck charm before coming here. i was good with just that but now having this award it feels like i have it all, thank you all for supporting me until now! i hope you continue to support me!”

felix’s side eye is something hyunjin might never live down.

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justmystyles · 1 year ago

Text

Big Winners - Part 1

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x record producer plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 3,118

summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.

a/n: earlier this month, all the grammy memories popped up, and it inspired me to write this. i have a million half finished 'moment turned fic' stories in my drafts, but I actually managed to (mostly) finish this one. this is either going to be 2 or 3 parts, i still have a bit to finish, so we'll see.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

Y/N and Harry met fifteen years ago, One Direction had been recently formed, and she was doing an internship at the studio where they were working on their debut album. She had befriended the entire band, but she and Harry clicked instantly, and formed a tight bond.

They stayed close throughout the years. Harry’s career, both with the band and as a solo artist skyrocketed, while Y/N moved through the industry and had found herself producing some smaller projects. She rarely turned down an opportunity, taking on any work that came her way just to get the experience and the connections. Then, she received the offer of a lifetime.

Once Harry had finished Love on Tour, he celebrated by inviting some of his closest friends and family to his villa in Italy for two weeks to relax and recharge. Y/N was one of the first people he asked. One night during the trip, Harry and Y/N snuck away from the group; it was intentional on his end, because he had something he was dying to ask her.

As they sat on the moonlit beach shoulder to shoulder, their toes in the sand, Harry leaned over and bumped his shoulder against hers. “So, I’m going to be starting work on the new album soon.”

“Jesus Har, you’re not even finished with your recharge vacation and you’re already thinking about the next thing?” She chuckled.

“You know I can’t turn it off.” He said with a sheepish laugh. “But there’s actually a reason I brought it up… I’ve been thinking about the direction I want to take, and who I want to work with, and I was wondering if you’d want to produce it for me?”

Y/N lets out a loud bark of laughter, startling Harry. “Good one.”

“I’m serious.” He looks at her, and she can see that he really does mean what he says.

“Harry, I don’t have production experience on that level.” She says, still in shock. “I mean, unless this is like a lullaby album or something.”

Harry chuckles. “It’s not, but I know you can do it. I know your work, you’re so much more talented than you give yourself credit for. And sure, you haven’t got experience on my level, but you’re never going to get it if you don’t put yourself out there, who better to get the experience with than your best friend?” He says with a toothy, dimpled grin.

“Literally anyone else?” She teases.

“Hey,” he whines with a furrowed brow. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” The two of them are silent for a moment, while she lets his offer sink in. “You really want me to do this? You want me to be your producer?”

“That’s why I asked.” He scoffs. “But seriously, nobody knows me better than you, you understand me, you always push me when I need it, and you don’t take my shit. Imagine how that would translate to music. I think it could be something really amazing. Plus, we’d get to hang out a bunch.”

“Ugh… you were making a good argument until you mentioned spending that much time together.” She says sarcastically as she rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry says in a serious tone. “If you don’t want to do it, just tell me. But I really can’t imagine taking the next step in my career with anyone else.”

She sighs and smiles softly at him. “I would really love to work with you, Harry. If you’re sure, let’s do it.”

His smile grows once again as he pulls her into a big hug. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

A few months later, the two of them embarked on their first collaboration, Harry’s fourth studio album, and it was an even better experience than either of them thought it would be. They knew each other so well, that they were perfectly in sync with every chord and every lyric. By the time they had a completed album, they were both confident that this was the best work of their careers.

They were so proud of what they had done that they didn’t care how it sold, or what the reviews said, they knew that they had created something magical and if they were the only two people that liked it, they couldn't care less. However, that wasn’t the case. The record was a hit; glowing reviews, great numbers, and the fans positively ate it up.

Harry and Y/N’s friendship was one that was well known, his fans would go crazy everytime they were seen together, the fandom was constantly shipping them. So when they found out that she was producing the record, it amped up the anticipation tenfold. As soon as it was released, they were combing the lyrics, and criticizing every background vocal and sound to find any clues about the true standing of the relationship. Of course, there was plenty of speculation, but the truth wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as the conspiracies and analysis. They were genuinely just two best friends with creative minds that made something amazing together.

Given the reception the album received, it was no surprise that, when award season rolled around, they received a generous amount of nominations. So here they were, in LA, sharing a hotel suite and preparing to attend the Grammy Awards.

As Y/N sat down to begin the hair and makeup process, Harry stepped out to go for a run to clear his mind. He was nervous about what the evening would hold. Partly for his performance, especially given the mistake at the beginning of his last Grammy appearance in 2023. He had insisted on extra rehearsal time, and extended the production meeting to make sure that everyone knew exactly what needed to happen and when. But more than that, he wanted this night to be perfect for Y/N. He had won awards before, but this was her first time being nominated. When they had first met, Y/N had told him about her dreams and one of the things she mentioned was the Grammys. He wanted this for her more than he did for himself. And although he knew she had matured in the last fifteen years, and valued more than just accolades and awards, if he could be the reason one of her childhood dreams came true, that would mean more to him than anything.

When Harry returned from his run, he saw Y/N sitting in the common area, her hair and makeup still being worked on. She locks eyes with him through the mirror.

“Hey, did the run help?” She asks.

Harry shrugs as he approaches her. “A little, still pretty nervous though.”

“What’s making you nervous? The nominations, or the performance?”

Harry thought about the best way to answer this question, he didn’t want to tell her that he was nervous for her. He knew that even though she was hiding it well, she was nervous too, and his nerves on her behalf would make hers worse. On top of that, Y/N was alway so sweet and empathetic, she would take it personally and see herself as the reason he was nervous and end up feeling bad. He didn’t want to put a damper on this night for her.

“Mostly the performance, I guess.” He finally responds.

She extends her arm out, wiggling her fingers in an invitation for him to take her hand. When he joins his hand with hers, she squeezes gently. “You’re going to be amazing. I’ve never seen you give a bad performance. You’re going to kill it, and I’m going to be right there in the crowd losing my shit for you, just like I always do.”

Harry laughs at her pep talk. “You know this is an industry thing, not a concert, right? People aren’t exactly going to be losing their shit in the audience.”

“Good, then it will be easier for you to notice me from the stage.” She looks over at him with a sweet smirk.

“Like I could ever miss you.” He scoffs, squeezing her hand.

“You’re showering before you get dressed, right?” She asks with an arched brow, lightning the mood.

“Not before I give you a big, sweaty hug…” He says, outstretching his arms and moving closer.

“Harry Edward,” she says in a warning tone. “I’m already forty-five minutes into getting ready, and still have at least thirty to go. I cannot start over.

“God, you’re such a girl…” He groans and kisses her on the cheek before going into the bathroom to shower.

While Harry showered, Y/N’s mind was racing. She’d known Harry long enough to know that there was more going on than just being nervous about the performance, but she wasn’t going to push him. She would just do everything she could to support and comfort him.

After his shower, Harry stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe just as Y/N’s hair and makeup was being finished. She stood from her chair, thanked her glam team and stepped up to Harry.

“We should just go like this, it would cause quite a stir.” She joked as they stood face to face in their matching bathrobes.

He smiles softly, still feeling the nerves flow through him.

“Hey, you’ve got this… we’ve got this.” She assures him. “Even if we don’t win, the album was amazing. We made something beautiful. If the academy sees that, great. If not, whatever, we don’t need them anyway.”

Harry smiles and pulls her into a hug. “Yeah, I know, I know. No matter what, I am so proud of what we did. It’s better than I even imagined it would be, and I owe all of that to you.”

She giggles as she pulls out of the hug. “I didn’t do anything. I just pushed buttons and bossed you around.”

Harry laughs loudly. “Two things you’re good at. Being bossy and pushing my buttons.” She gasps in mock outrage and slaps his chest playfully. “Seriously though, you brought my vision to life, and you did all the behind the scenes work to make sure it was the best album possible. You’re the biggest reason we’re here tonight.”

Y/N smiles shyly and blushes. “Oh come on…”

Harry smirks mischievously, he always found it hilarious when he’d make her blush. He decided to double down. “Well, whatever the outcome, at least I’ll have the cutest date in the room.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“God, you’re the worst.” She chuckles as her blush deepens. “I have to go put my dress on. You changing?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that now. Meet you back here in ten?”

“It’s a complicated dress, might need fifteen…”

“God,” he groans playfully. “Such a diva!”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at him and turns to go into her room to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, Harry is pacing around in his suit, it’s a simple black suit with a gold silk shirt, unbuttoned enough to display the sparrows on his chest, and the butterfly across his abdomen. He steps up to her door and knocks gently as a reminder that they need to get going.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She calls through the door.

A few moments later, she emerges in a long gown, made of the same golden silk as Harry’s shirt. Harry’s eyes go wide when he sees her. She looks stunning, the gown hugs her curves in all the right places, and compliments her skin tone perfectly.

Harry’s silence makes Y/N feel a little self conscious. She rarely dresses up, and when she does, she doesn’t usually pick things that put her body on display like this.

“Is it… do I look okay?” She asks tentatively.

“It’s stunning, Y/N.” Harry looks at her in awe. “You look so incredibly beautiful, like an angel…”

“Alright Har, come on…” she says bashfully as she drops her gaze.

“No, seriously. You clean up nice.” He chuckles, punching her on the arm playfully.

“Yeah, well you don’t look so bad yourself.” She looks him over, a small smirk appearing on her face. “Is this why you wanted me to work with your team to pick my outfit? So we would be matching?”

Harry chuckles and shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe…”

“You’re such a little pain in the ass.” She chuckles.

“Whatever, it was worth it.” He says, grabbing her wrist and positioning them in front of the full length mirror. “We look damn good”

“That we do.” She replies with a smile. She notices his expression grow more serious and furrows her brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… fifteen years…” He says wistfully. “We’ve had a hell of a run, you and I.”

“Well it’s not over yet!”

“No, I know. Will you just shut up and let me have a moment?” He says as he nudges her. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I can’t really express how much it means to be standing here with you right now. No matter what happens tonight, we’ve definitely already won.”

“Yeah, we have.” She sighs, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him into a side hug. “Now cut it out with all this mushy stuff, my makeup took way too long for me to start crying right now.”

Harry laughs and pulls her into a tight hug. “Alright, alright, we’ll save the mushy crying for later.” He gives her one last squeeze before pulling out of the embrace. “Ready to go?”

She nods and he leads her out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. As it makes its descent to the lobby, Y/N gets uncharacteristically quiet.

“You good?” Harry asks softly. “You seem quiet.”

She looks up at him, almost as if the sound of his voice broke her out of a trance. “Hmm? Yeah, sorry. I think the gravity of everything is finally hitting me. Like, it was all conceptual before, just words. But it’s real, we’re on our way to the Grammy awards… we’re nominated.”

Harry takes her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know. But you can’t worry about it, no more stressing out, okay? Tonight is our night, we just need to go out there and enjoy it.”

“Can I say one more mushy thing before we stop trying to make each other cry?”

Harry chuckles and nods, looking forward to hearing what Y/N has to say.

“I… when I decided I wanted to be a producer, my big thing was that I always told people I wanted to win Grammy awards. And I know we shouldn’t be defined by awards, but in an industry like this, you have to have some way to quantify or legitimize what you do to people who aren’t a part of it, and that was my way of doing it. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and this is the first time I’ve been nominated. I can’t tell you how glad I am that my first nomination is with you. It means the world to me that I can have this moment, share this milestone with my best friend. So thank you for letting me be a part of this album. You have no idea what it means to me.”

Harry is taken aback by Y/N’s words. While they were close, and shared everything, she would rarely be so open and vulnerable with her words. No matter what happened at the award show, that moment, right there in the elevator, would be the highlight of his night. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, burying his face in her neck.

“You have no idea what this means to me.” He mumbles against her neck.

“Okay, so no nerves then?” She asks, pulling out of his embrace. “Whatever happens tonight, we will always have this moment together, and that’s what matters.”

“Agreed.” Harry says, holding his hand out to shake hers. She giggles at the gesture and shakes his hand firmly.

After a short ride in the limo, Harry slips out of the car and extends his hand, helping Y/N out. They walk through security and up to the start of the red carpet. Harry turns to face Y/N, and she adjusts his jacket, making sure he looks picture perfect.

“Okay, go out there and smile big. I’ll see you on the other side.” She says like a proud mom, sending her son off to picture day.

“How’s my hair?” He asks cheekily.

She giggles and runs her hand through his hair. “Perfect.”

He winks and gives her a sly smirk before stepping out onto the carpet and posing for the cameras.

Y/N watches him take a few pictures, and once he moves on to the second pose position on the carpet, she turns to walk behind the step and repeat. Her arm is quickly grabbed by one of the producers. “You’re up.” He tells her.

“Oh no no no, I’m not walking the carpet.” Y/N insists.

“Are you nominated?” She nods, a slight panic on her expression. Y/N was a behind the scenes person, she didn’t step in front of the camera. “Then you walk the carpet.” He nudges her forward, and she finds herself standing on the first mark, posing awkwardly for the camera.

A few steps away, Harry’s gaze is traveling from camera to camera, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Y/N posing, he also sees the panic on her face. He quickly backtracks, coming up beside her and placing his hand on the small of her back.

“You okay?” He whispers softly.

“I didn’t know they were going to make me do the carpet…” She whispers nervously.

Harry keeps his hand on the small of her back, his fingers moving along the skin gently to soothe her. “I know, I know. But you’ve got this, I’m right here with you, we’re going to do this together, this is our night.”

She nods, feeling more comfortable with Harry by her side. The two pose together as they move down the carpet. Harry was completely in tune with Y/N’s emotions, and any time he’d feel her start to stiffen up or get nervous, he would whisper a joke or silly comment in her ear to loosen her up.

The photographers went crazy observing the chemistry between the two of them. Harry was aware what would be printed about them, and the status of their relationship, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him in that moment was that nothing ruined this night for Y/N.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x fem! reader

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thatfrailsoul · 2 months ago

Text

– It's like learning to fly

Divinatory jukebox: "One step at a time", by Jordin Sparks

tarot pick a pile reading → one, two, three

We do so much for it, to reach it… We grab an old and trembling stool, and we get up on it, even if it is ready to collapse with us at any time, menacing us every second with that kind of scary crunch. We hold onto the shoulders of others, even if they are absolutely sure that there are better and safer ways to do it. We stretch our arms until it literally hurts, pointing our feet, so frustrated to see our fingers only slightly touching it… We do so much, and for so long. To the point that we start to forget why we are really doing it, why we need it so much, why we just can’t move on without finding that one thing, without holding it in our hands.

There is a little reminder somewhere, in a forgotten drawer, in a list of things to do or to achieve hidden in your notes, at the back of your mind in the memory of that moment full of excitement and inspiration where this idea, this journey and adventure began… There is somewhere that reason, that motive, behind your courageous first step. Protected from all this frustration, stagnation, lack of progress. Unreachable by those judgemental and mean words, by those failures that you can’t stop thinking of… And now, when you least expect it, when you think that you don't need nor want it, it is coming again to the surface, falling out of that dusty box, touching your cold hand hidden in your pocket. It is returning to you to remind you of why you started this and why you should continue to hold on.

P.s. tomorrow is my birthday 🎂🎈

And I'm so glad I managed to post a reading, especially such a sweet one, closer to this date! This blog, little by little, became my safe space. And even if we are not so many, I really wanted to share a little of my happiness with you today (and tomorrow). So I wish you truly peaceful and good days. A comfy bed. A full belly. A clearer mind and warmer heart. And moments of peace and rest between one "adventure" and another. Thank you for being here. And thank you for existing in my same lifetime. ♡

– Pile One,

the house: the four of coins and the justice

picture from → pinterest

A shared room. Borrowed clothes, toys, books. A gentle but inescapable hand that guides you, shows you the right direction for your steps… There wasn't really that much time or space for you to grow into the one you’re supposed to. Not when you so often fitted someone else’s shoes, someone else's story.

It took quite a lot of courage to slow down, to slip your hand out of theirs, to look away from where they were guiding you. To try to create your own path, that no one ever walked, perhaps only tried. With your own hands getting dirty for the first time in a while, and becoming tired of the hard work and patience it needs in order to be cleared out.

It took so much of you that, once you found yourself in it, in all this dirt, stones, brambles… Once the night came down, and the darkness surrounded you… You couldn't ignore that tiredness. The one that inevitably transformed that ardently desired liberty of choice, all those possible steps, so many directions… In just responsibilities, in risks and dangers around you, in fears within you that you didn't have any chance to escape from.

And it is not so easy to get up again, at all. At each uncertain step you remember more strongly all their words and premonitions, on how it will never work, on how you don't have any idea of what you are doing, or how you will come back sooner or later, begging for their protection and support.

But even as you start to doubt and overthink, get caught up in all those memories and feel too heavy to get up and keep on moving… You are not letting yourself die from hunger, from cold, from loneliness. Your fingers caress the earth and nature around you, meeting and recognising all the things that can work for now, that can be enough for a while, that can help you survive tonight.

Slowly, uncertainty, but you are finding all you need, and even what you never hoped for. You are transforming that little spot in which you felt exhausted and trapped in, convincing yourself that you already failed… In a place that is safe for you for this moment, a place where you can rest, as you survive and in the meantime become more used to it, more calm and stronger.

And even if it is only temporary, only for now, so unstable and frail, it is still something. Something to start from tomorrow when the sun will rise and you will see better, when you will be able to recognise what is it that you really need more of, to get through the cold nights and scary storms.

It could've been better to have it all figured out and prepared before the adventure. The map, the food, something to keep you warm and some company… But there is magic in doing it this way too, living it one day, one moment after another. There is the unexpected, the surprises, the mistakes that you will learn from. There is the experience, the knowledge and confidence that an already walked path couldn't give you, no matter how bumpy the road could be.

It is different from what you thought, and perhaps indeed too similar to how they said it would be… But not for this reason it is wrong or impossible, to go through it.

You are doing much better than you fear now. Exactly because it is something so new, so lonely for you. And yet you are still making progress. You are still finding in it something that is worth it. The silence that is not disturbed by any angry or frustrated voice, only your steps and the world around you. A beautiful view that you can enjoy and appreciate for as long as you want to, without anyone rushing you. A pace that you can change whenever you want because it is only up to you. To rest or to keep on going.

And not matter how simple or how little… it is still something. Something that gives you much more than any other story others wanted you to live. It is yours. Only yours. Completely. And it is worth it.

That stubbornness is still right here. That desire to do on your own, your own choices, your own mistakes and victories, yours and not of someone else that never understood your soul. And this, this still counts as a reason to hold onto that dream, even if its not on the horizon yet, even if only your heart knows what is it that you are searching for.

p.s.

buy me a tomato 🍅 (if you want to)

– Pile Two,

the child: the three of cups and the emperor

picture from → pinterest

It wasn't only for the goal, for that fishing line and reward... wasn't it? This journey called you much sooner, before you even knew what achievement and success was, what having recognition and admiration meant… You met this inspiration and passion when you had so little in your life, so few things that you could hold in your tiny hands, but that meant much more than anything you have now does. Every step, every creation, was so full of colours of excitement and curiosity. Of so many feelings that were all that you ever needed or wanted from your experiences. Just the joy and warmth of doing them…

But it is not enough anymore now, isn't it? Not for your mind that grew up so much, became so mature, so serious, so responsible. Not for that part of you that just can’t allow yourself to do something, to invest so much time and energy in it, if it does not serve any other purpose than just enjoyment. It would have been beautiful, and much easier if it was enough… But this cruel world and your reality does not accept it, does not reward it. Something that you do simply for yourself. It wants results, motives, goals and achievements. It wants a worth that is more concrete and material, otherwise is only making you waste time, putting you in danger, without having anything to back you up.

And although it is not your fault, that it doesn't work this way for you personally, that it is not giving you those more material results and returns… It still hurts a little, when you start to think that, maybe, it is you who wasn't good enough to make it work better, to not force you to say goodbye to something that you carried in your heart for so long, betraying that little you who was so sure that it will be a lifelong bond.

But… Do you really need to leave it behind? To put it aside, in a little angle that will become more full with time with all the things that you renounced just because they didn't work out enough? Making it more and more difficult to reach them, useless even to try, in those few but still present moments in which your heart will desire to enjoy them one more time?

It might not serve the same purpose you hoped for. It might not be something so ever present, a foundation for your wealthy and good life. It might not be completed in years to come, touched only from time to time in those nostalgic afternoons… But it is still worth it. To keep it in your life. To leave it as that safe space and moments to create, to enjoy things just for the sake of it, to be you again once in a while. The you that doesn't need to be so stressed and so serious about your every action. The you that doesn't need always to calculate the convenience of doing something in order to allow yourself to spend time with it. The you that still values and protects what they feel in the process, and not only its outcome.

p.s.

buy me a tomato 🍅 (if you want to)

– Pile Three,

the scythe: the king of cups and the four of wands

picture from → pinterest

Even if it seems so hopeless, so useless, so needed to just let it go… It hurts much deeper, much stronger. It stings right into your heart for which this meant more than just "a lot". No matter what one says, or how the reality is now, it always feels like there is genuinely more to it. That there is something that your anxious and frustrated mind, or the judgemental ones of others, just don't see now. Something that will reveal itself if you just wait a little longer, hold on to it a little stronger.

And it is indeed like this. There is something powerful and meaningful enough to manage to slow you down, when you are trying to convince yourself to say to it goodbye… But rather than being in the thing itself, in this journey, passion or idea… It is more in you, in what you can still do to make it work, how you can do it. The options, ways and opportunities that are hidden in your own mind and attitude.

A lot of time had passed since you started this journey, since you decided to give it a try. But at the same time so little happened, you are still a child that is learning to walk on this path. You made your steps always in the same direction, confidently following the signed road on a map that you once found. And you did so while doing your best, managing everything in the perfect and right for you way. But who knows how long ago that map was traced, who first found that path, or how long it took them, how many things they sacrificed or how many others were gifted to them by those who they love just to manage to arrive to the end of that road…

You are different, just because you are you. And by the time you arrived here, so many things have changed since you hid that map in a pocket of your mind. It did gift you the knowledge and awareness that it can be done, that the place and time in which your life is so full of joy and wellness thanks to something you love is indeed possible… But it can’t show you every single step. That, is something that you can only understand and choose once you are already in the middle of your journey. Exactly like right now, when you are starting to feel so much as you go through it.

Those emotions, even negative, are not necessarily a warning, a sign that it is not it, that you need to stop. They would have meant it, but then letting go of it and forgetting it would've been so much easier… No, they mean something else to you, to your journey. They are urging you to write a different story from the one you once read. They are whispering to you new expressions, new plots, new ways.

It is up to you now, actually always, to choose how to go about the things you face and live as you go through them. And from time to time, you will need a little reminder about it, a little suggestion to your mind that starts to stress too much when it doesn't see clear answers and guidelines. A little message from your heart that it is okay to try to do things differently, instead of quitting them all together. There is no need to be so categorical. And there is no rush to make it work before the sun sets.

p.s.

buy me a tomato 🍅 (if you want to)

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sturniolo04 · 26 days ago

Note

could you write a chris x reader on the tour where in one of their shows the surprise video is a vlog of either chris having proposed without matt and nick knowing or reader being pregnant?? I think it could be really cuteee thanks in either wayyy

A/n: ofc! i put a little spin to it! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I made it into a series of moments! I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

dividers: @issysh3ll

Chris couldnt lie this tour that he and his brothers were on was one of the best tour they have ever done. the whole idea of filming and keeping secrets from each other was exciting and absolutely crazy when he thought about it as a whole.

tonight was another tour show that happened to been in LA which made the surprise he was revealing tonight ten times easier because he would need his wife to be there. You and chris had been married for a solid 3 years and it was and has been the happiest 3 years of your guys lifetime for sure.

"okay tonight is my surprise and i am going to start off by saying that this a legitimately one of the hardest surprise I had to keep literally there were so many times where I thought you guys were going to find out the fans included"

chris states as matt and nick shared a nervous look as he began to retrieve the hint from the other side of the stage. chris took out a small nike tennis shoe that look like something he could have potentially worn as a kid himself. The crowd was screaming at the reveal of the simple but somewhat obvious hint.

"any guesses"

chris chuckles looking at his brothers reaction to the tiny shoe in his hands.

"the first thing i thought was a kid but that's crazy"

nick shrugs trying to really think if that is even a possible surprise he and you could keep that long.

"matt wanna take a guess"

chris chuckles nodding his head at nicks statement. the crowd still shouting out a couple of answers and ideas as matt thought of his guess.

"dude i dont know i want to say the same thing as nick but there is no way that is even possible that's nine months chris you wouldn't have had enough time right"

matt questions as chris shrugs his shoulders not giving him any hints.

"i dont know well i think it is time to show them the video what do yall think"

chris states and ask the corwd turning his mic toward them as they all scream in excitement and beginning to count down along with the display screen on the stage.

the screen went black immediately popping up a bold lettered text stating the date that this video was filmed and then cutting the screen to you in a hospital bed.

Chris could see on both nick and matt's face they didn't necessarily know to react until they heard it.

"whats babygirl doing"

chris asks you in the video as you beginning to rub your pregnant belly panning the camera to show the visible bump.

"we're about to pop that what we are doing"

your replied in the video. everyone began to scream in excitement and shock once they realized the surprise after seeing the bump in the video. Matt and Nick couldn't even muster up a reaction yet too caught up in see the video til the end.

Chris felt bad that he had kep this secret from his brothers for so long but knew it was going to be worth the surprise for sure. The video finally ended with a simple moment between the three of you in the hospital room the next day.

"shes so precious her eye color is just as blue as yours"

you coo out in the video. The crowd wen silent almost everyone filled with adoration for the new life chris and his wife had brought into the world and everyone was feeling the sense of honor that they were able to be apart of this reveal.

the video end with text with the date and time his daughter was brought into this world and her name as well.

Madison Grace Sturniolo

"chris im in tears oh my god"

nick chuckles out wiping his stray tears from his face as chris' face softens towards his brother.

"how in the world were you able to keep that for so long"

matt gasps

"i told you i dont even know we really were gambling with this one but hey it worked out"

chris chuckles into the mic. the crowd screaming in response to everything.

"ughh she was so adorable i cant wait to meet her when we get done with this tour"

nick squeals getting a little cuteness agression from the very thought.

"what if i told you both you were able to meet her tonight"

chris states as he stands up from the couch he was sitting on.

"no way chris are you serious"

nick squeal as matt screams seeing you walk out on stage with madison in your arms.

"say hi guys to madison grace sturniolo"

you announce as the crowd goes wild. chris placed a sweet kiss on top of both of your guys heads and taking madison from your arms.

"do want to hold her"

chris ask matt since he was standing right next to him.

"um yes give her here"

matt chuckles carefully taking her in his arms beginning to rok her back and forth.

"hey there oh my god"

matt coos out to her as she grabs one of his fingers squeezing it with the very little strength she had.

"chris seriously dud congrats like wow im an uncle"

nick exclaims as chris and you laugh at them.

"you both are"

you chuckle out. this was definitely one of the best surprises chris could have every done with his fans and his brothers for that matter.

Tagslist🗂️

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi @lyingonchris

@tezzzzzzzz @babytomatoes21 @zenithsturniolo

#sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #girlypopsquad🩵#matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris x reader #charli’scornerspeaks🩵#charli'scornerrequests🩵#charli'scorner🩵#charlischickees🩵

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mythicmanuscripts · 4 months ago

Note

“In conclusion, that little fucker is lucky he's cute.” is the most Aegon thing ever. This is the energy that attracted me to eggxreader and I didn’t even know it. Amazing

It really does describe him perfectly, utterly insufferable but he's too cute. I'm gonna write a little bit about all the shit Aegon gets up to and gets away with, and then of course also why he can get away with all that chaos.

This is mostly SFW but considering it's Aegon there's no way for this not to have implied sexual content, so I'll hide it behind a cut just to be safe. Enjoy lads!

Aegon's reputation preceded him by a country mile. You had heard all about the king, about his behaviour, his audacity, his taste for wine and just about every woman in the keep and that's just to name a few. You knew marrying him would be signing up for a lifetime of entertaining every whim of an absolutely little bastard with a crown on his head.

And well, you certainly werent wrong about all that. What completely shocks you though, is that you actually enjoy it? Sure there's a few awkward months of trying to figure him out, but once you realise how easy it is to make him absolutely DELIGHTED your relationship improves significantly.

And once he realises you may actually entertain his whims and listen to him? Well now you have a shadow. A shadow who demands your attention and will whine and pout and push things off tables until you finally meet his gaze and listen to whatever he wants. Most of the time he just wants to tell you something absolutely useless, but the entire kingdom will be brought to a standstill if you don't give him your full attention and listen to him telling you about the bird he just spotted on the windowsill.

No one really understands how on earth the two of you arent always at each other's throats, or at the very least how you arent just barely getting along. Aegon seems to worship the very ground you walk on, and then also seems to lay himself down flat on that very ground and scream until you sigh and go to him. Often he'll call you and just ask for a kiss. That's it. (He has interrupted multiple engagements and meetings because the king would like to kiss his queen and this is obviously the most important matter to attend to in all of the seven kingdoms.)

It's definitely worth noting that this isnt one sided either. Aegon will go out of his way to do whatever you want, even if most of the time you havent even told him you wanted it. You once commented on how pretty a certain flower was in the gardens when you were walking with him and for the next three months there was always a fresh bunch of those flowers on your bedside every time you came back from dinner. Every single time. He literally appointed a servant whose role was JUST to ensure the flowers are always perfect and replace them when needed.

Everyone keeps on waiting for the moment where you react to his requests with more than just an amused smile before entertaining whatever he's asked you about. But it never happens. You always just smile and go to him, kissing his head, holding his hand, rolling your eyes as he complains about a lord who is literally still in the same room as him.

All these ridiculous requests and high maintenance needs don't mean that he won't obey you, because he will. Your word is law to him, far more so than any deal or offer or responsibility he could ever have or receive. He will NEVER disobey you, ever. Which is something the entire castle is so relieved about. If anyone else tries to tell him no he won't take it laying down, but if you do? He'll just bat his eyelashes and demand a kiss as compensation.

This of course also means before long you have the entire small council seeking you out after every small council meeting to tell you all the things they need you to stop Aegon from doing and all the things they need you to make Aegon start doing. Aegon is well aware of this by the way, he knows they all scurry off to find you and you essentially get a debrief of the same meeting by just about every person who attends it.

Aegon never tells his small council that he knows all about their little trick, mostly because he'd much rather listen to you than them. Sure he heard their thoughts at the meeting, but he doesn't care about that! They arent his queen! So when you relay the same message he just smiles and nods and then just beams at you when you praise him and thank him for agreeing.

So yes, he's an utterly insufferable little bastard gremlin creature who follows you round, tugging at your dress and nipping at your ankles until you eventually agree to hear the same story you've already heard at least eight times. But... he's certainly cute, that can't be denied.

#sub!aegon #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon smut #king aegon #aegon x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon imagine

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no1deepspacehater · 1 year ago

Text

NSFW ABC's - Xavier !

A/N: Zayne is up next for this one! Minors look away ofc! Also some minor spoilers in letters E and K

Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mostly, he’s so ready to sleep, but if that doesn’t fit your needs, he stays up for you. Need a shower? He’ll help you wash up. Something to eat? He’s not the best cook but cereal after sex always hits the spot anyways.

His most preferred aftercare is after a cold shower, you both just cuddle each other to sleep. You’re his favourite teddy bear to hold.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, his arms. Strong and buff from years, and I mean years, of sword practicing. Upper body strength of the Gods, perfect for holding you up with he fucks you against the wall, or just caging you in while you ride him. Grip his arms in any position and he’s beaming.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Moderate amount when he cums BUT he leaks. One stroke and his dick is wet. Prefers to cum inside/with a condom just because it gets sticky and messy, but is SO more than down if you want him to cum anywhere else.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While masturbating has accidentally came on one of the plushies you gave him. He fell asleep right after and it left a stain he couldn’t wash out. Said plushie is now hidden away where you’ll never find it, and when you ask him about it he always says he lost it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

SPOILERS FOR HIS LORE!

Ok so here’s my headcanons, he’s either:

Has NEVER had sex because, well, he only wants you. Probably doesn’t watch porn for the same reason. Most knowledge he’s have is conversations with close friends but no hands on work.

HAS had sex before, but with previous lifetimes/timelines of you. Kinda more fun to work with this one because, he’d know all your sensitive spots, even ones you don’t know about. He’d now just how to rile you up and have you seeing literal stars.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

When he has energy or is in that type of mood: variations of missionary, I feel like he’d be into wall sex.

Other than that, as long as your on top of him and he could see your face, he’s happy. Sometimes he’ll let you do your thing while he’s being a little pillow princess, othertimes he’s the one in absolute control even though you’re above him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Always light giggles here and there because you both are being so cute. Sometimes though he’s not serious but he gets in this focused/locked in type of mode when you both are having particularly passionate sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

HEAR ME OUT HERE!! Rarely clean shaven just because he’d literally rather sleep. It’s not a jungle, but definitely had to start keeping it lower when you both do start to get intimate. I’d say once a week at least, once every two weeks at least. Now listen closely, he’s got a happy trail, nobody argue with me. His hair down there is a bit darker/browner than his actual hair, but it’s still pretty light that if you look too fast you’ll miss it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a sappy little alien boy. Always showering you with praises so most of the time you’re a smiling blushing mess, which makes him smile as well. Even when he’s being dominant he’s calling you cute little pet names, anddd he’s got that smug little snark that’s just waiting for you to challenge him so he could show you who really is the most powerful here.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t really do it much because sleep >> anything else. When he does have to release some pent up energy he generally just does it to get it out of the way and falls back asleep. Sometimes falls asleep dick in hand mid stroke.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I feel like he would be into roleplay. It’d take him a while to bring it up, but once he does it kinda helps him to actually express his emotions more in a way? But having you dress up as different things turns him on as well (the maid outfit is not surviving the night).

Also hear me out on this I feel like he’d have a pregnancy kink. (SPOILER: Something about you both living long enough to have a family) You’d just look sexy with a belly to him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His or your place, where you can really let go. As for specifics:

The bed, the kitchen counter, the bathroom, the couch, to the windowww to the wall. As long as your both comfortable, he’s so down to screw you anywhere.

But thats not to say you both haven’t gotten... freakaayyy in the staff room closet at work once or twice... or five times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Though he can just hear your name and he’s turned on, he particularly likes when you sass him back or give a little attitude. It’s like a declaration of sexual war between you two and he’s adamant that he wins.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won’t bruise you too hard or hurt you in a serious way (like blood and stuff). He can’t, he just can’t. Hard choking as well is uncomfortable for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lives for eating you out/giving head. Even if he’s too tired for penetration he’s got more than enough energy for you to sit on his face and just let him go wild. Or literally he’ll get on his knees and just keep going harder everytime you tug his hair when he’s hitting a sweet spot. Will literally overstimulate you every time because he’s just having so much fun.

As for receiving, he doesn’t ask for it much but would neverrr decline. He twitches so much and constantly has to hold himself back from bucking his hips up and shoving his dick down your throat. Hearing you swallow all of his cum makes him literally orgasm a second time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast, no, rarely. Slow, sensual, rough in an almost primal like way but still soft? Yes! He needs to feel every bit of you, and make sure you’re feeling every bit of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Appreciative of a good quickie. Though he’s more qeen on having ample time to do with you what he wants, there has been situations where he’s had to pull you to an empty room and set a new world record for the both of you. Sometimes the both of you are at home doing the nasty when you get called to a mission, and then suddenly it’s a race for time lol.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If it’s for you, he’ll try anything (within reason). He is a risk taker as well, because really to him it’s not a risk if he’s going to succeed anyway. Just has to make sure he’s thought of every outcome and weighed out the pros vs cons, which he can decide very quickly when you’re looking at him like that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on how much time between the rounds. After round one, let him take a quick nap and he’s back on it like white on rice. Anything more than that will require a full day of sleeping with cuddles with you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like personally he never bothered with toys, but would not be opposed to use one on you. It’s like having another way to satisfy you (and tease you endlessly). He likes to feel your touch rather than a toy but he’s okay with anything you want mostly.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s such a switch, honestly. One day he’s begging for you and the next he’s making YOU beg until you literally can’t handle it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man is a moaner and whimperer. He tries to hold it back mostly so it’s a lot of hot whimpering and mumbling at first but keep riling him up he’ll get louder. Says your name like a prayer always.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Turns your plushies around before you guys have sex, all of them. He says he doesn’t want to taint their innocence.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick in diameter, average sized in length. Definitely a shower but it’s pretty like him in every way anyway. Has one (1) prominent vein that hits just right. Colour just slightly darker than his skin colour (he’s pretty pale so) but tip is a light pink (#E6C5AD, if you will). Turns more red as he’s about to cum/is stroking or whatever. Yes I have thought a lot about this.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Having to wait lifetimes for your lover can leave you pretty wanting at times. That being said Xavier doesn’t really indulge in himself too often, and he’s quite the sleeper so in general it’s pretty low. But it can lead to some fun times where he’s just teasing you forever.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like a LIGHT. After proper aftercare he is ready for the nap of his life.

#l&ds #love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #l&ds xavier #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deep space #lauve and deepspace #lads xavier #lads

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carpe-mamilia · 2 years ago

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Ghosts’ Larry Rickard Explains Why They Chose the Captain’s First Name

Photo: Monumental,Guido Mandozzi

It couldn’t be a joke. That was one rule laid down by the Ghosts creators when it came to choosing a first name for Willbond’s character. Until series five, the WWII ghost had been known only as The Captain – a mystery seized upon by fans of the show.

“It was the question we got asked more than anything. His name,” actor and writer Larry Rickard tells Den of Geek. “Once we got to series three, you could see that we were deliberately cutting away and deliberately avoiding it. We were fuelling the fire because we knew at some point we’d tell them.”

In “Carpe Diem”, the episode written by Rickard and Ben Willbond that finally reveals The Captain’s death story, they did tell us. After years of guessing, clue-spotting and debate, Ghosts revealed that The Captain’s first name is James. At the same time, we also learned that James’ colleague Lieutenant Havers’ first name was Anthony.

The ordinariness of those two names, says Rickard, is the point.

“The only thing we were really clear about is that we didn’t want one of those names that only exists in tellyland. It shouldn’t be ‘Cormoran’ or ‘Endeavour’. They should just be some men’s names and they’re important to them. The point was that they were everyday.”

Choosing first names for The Captain and Havers was a long process not unlike naming a baby, Rickard agrees. “It almost comes down to looking at the faces of the characters and saying, what’s right?”

“We talked for ages. For a long time I kept thinking ‘Duncan and James’, and then I was like ah no! That would have turned it into a gag and been awful!” Inescapably in the minds of a certain generation, Duncan James is a member of noughties boyband Blue. “Maybe with Anthony I was thinking of Anthony Costa!” Rickard says in mock horror, referencing another member of the band.

Lieutenant Havers wasn’t just The Captain’s second in command while stationed at Button House; he was also the man James loved. Because homosexuality was criminalised in England during James’ lifetime, he was forced to hide his feelings for Anthony from society, and to some extent even from himself.

In “Carpe Diem”, the ghosts (mistakenly) prepare for the last day of their afterlives, prompting The Captain to finally tell his story. Though not explicit about his sexual identity, the others understand and accept what he tells them – and led by Lady Button, all agree that he’s a brave man.

Getting the balance right of what The Captain does and doesn’t say was key to the episode. “It wasn’t just a personal choice of his to go ‘I’m going to remain in the closet’,” explains Rickard. “There wasn’t an option there to explore the things that either of them felt. That couldn’t be done back then – there are so many stories which have come out since the War about the dangers of doing that.

“We wanted to tell his personal story but also try to ensure that there was a level at which you understood why they couldn’t be open, that even in this moment where he’s finally telling the other ghosts his story, he never comes out and says it overtly because that would be too much for him as a character from that time.

“He says enough for them to know, and enough for him to feel unburdened but it’s in the fact that they’re using their first names which militarily they would never have done, and in the literal passing of the baton”.

The baton is a bonus reveal when fans learned that The Captain’s military stick wasn’t a memento of his career, but of Havers. As James suffers a fatal heart attack during a VE day celebration at Button House, Anthony rushes to his side and the stick passes from one to the other as they share a moment of tragic understanding.

“From really early on, we had the idea that anything you’re holding [when you die] stays with you. So it wasn’t just your clothes you were wearing, we had the stuff with Thomas’ letter reappearing in his pocket and so on. And the assumption being that it was something The Captain couldn’t put down, it felt so nice to be able to say it was something he didn’t want to put down.”

Rickard lists “Carpe Diem”, co-written with Ben Willbond, among his series five highlights. He’s pleased with the end result, praises Willbond’s performance, and loved being on set to see Button House dressed for the 1940s. He’s particularly pleased that a checklist of moments they wanted to land with the audience all managed to be included. “Normally something’s fallen by the wayside just because of the way TV’s made, it’s always imperfect or it’s slightly rushed, but it feels like it’s all there.”

Rickard and Willbond also knew by this point in the show’s lifetime, that they could trust Ghosts fans to pick up on small details. “Nothing is missed,” he says. “Early on, you’re always thinking, is that going to get across? But once we got to series five, there are little tiny things within corners of shots and you know that’s going to be spotted. Particularly in that very short exchange between Havers and the Captain. We worried less about the minutiae of it because you go, that’s going to be rewound and rewatched, nothing will be missed.”

The team were also grateful they’d resisted the temptation to tell The Captain’s story sooner. “We’d talked about it every series since series two, whether or not now was the time, but because he’s such a hard and starchy character in a lot of ways you needed the time to understand his softer side I think before you had that final honest beat from him.”

“What a ridiculously normal name to have so much weight put on it for five years,” laughs Rickard fondly. “Good old James.”

From Den of Geek

#bbc ghosts #bless you larry for doing all these den of geek interviews #I wonder if they just did one marathon session with him #inside ghosts was kind of disappointing this week #I guess Ben just wants to let the episode speak for itself and you're like yes but I would like to hear you talk about every detail #trust me we will be interested #long post #I really thought they loved the joke of nearly saying the Captain’s name so much that they'd never reveal it #so it's so lovely that they were like no this is not a joke name; he's a real man with an ordinary name #and we are going to tell you that in the most devastatingly romantic way #I am eating my words and they are delicious with that spread on top #also 'that's going to be rewound and rewatched' = 'I know you people are loopy so here is content specifically for you'#bbc ghosts spoilers

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bellewintersroe · 1 year ago

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Okay this is part 2 from this anon request, which one of my lovely followers asked if I could do in the comments @beautifulbluejay <3

Easy Boys x Reader Headcanons - How They React To You Going MIA.

It happened just before his leave to Paris, in fact the reason Nix pushes his leave so hard is because everybody genuinely thought you had gone.

So the trip to Paris isn’t exactly a leave for him, he’s alone and just thinking about you the whole time.

Grief stricken- nobody else knew about your relationship considering it was fraternisation, so he literally feels so alone.

This one’s a lil different- but you’d be completely lost and track Winters down in Paris, all you’d need to do is ask Lewis and he’d probs blabber mouth it to you- although he does think you’re a little crazy because you’ve just gone MIA in the middle of Europe for almost a week and now you’re wanting to travel to Paris.

Anyway you’d get to the correct place, despite having a slight cut on your forehead and grazed knees you’re physically fine- but you get caught up in a German hospital during your time lost and it’s mf scary. You’re so lucky you’re still alive.

You’d knock on the door (assuming it was his) and when he answers it he kinda cracks it open only slightly, and then rips the rest fully open and has a literal heart attack.

“Dick?!” Your voice cracks and you’re crashing into his chest before he can even fathom.

“You’re- you’re here- I?” He’s overwhelmed, wondering if he’s dreaming or not until his arms wrap tightly around you, feeling you cling onto dear life.

Once the shock has worn off and tears were shed Dick can’t let you go. He’s slightly dizzied with practically the shock of his life.

When you’re sleeping he keeps watching over you, checking you’re real.

He can’t do enough for you, gets you food water (ofc), checks over any wounds you have, really talks to you about it- like Dick out of all the men seems extremely emotionally intelligent, so he wants to make sure you’re really okay.

“Just tell me and I can send you somewhere safer…”

“I’d rather just be where you are.”

Lewis Nixon:

After he was supposed to jump into Berlin and he only just made it out of the plane, he turned up to see the explosion right before his eyes. The Germans were shooting down the planes- including the ones he knew you alongside so many other flight nurses and young men were on.

Not only had it gone terribly- now his trauma of knowing you’re potentially gone makes everything 10x harder.

He’d not been able to see you much throughout the war, you’re often stationed in different areas, but he always worried about you, and just then he was so close to you, yet still so far away- it pained Lewis.

Replays the moment over and over again in his head, drinks more and more and as the days pass and he receives no letter from you or your company or family- he knows the worst is coming.

Asks Dick if he should write a letter for your family- he was there after all. Dick informs him it’s probably best to wait until he’s found out what’s really happened to you.

But the silence was screaming at him- and every time be see’s a nurse in a uniform near him he grows restless.

He’s walking near the hospital one day, where he knows hundreds of the prisoners from the camp are being treated. He watches from afar as dozens more of them pile out of trucks and vans, some of them unable to walk- the rest of them still being treated inside the walls of the camp.

He turns away when he see’s the nurses, feeling overwhelmed by the grief until he hears a quick, “Lewis!”

He turns around so quick, dropping his cigarette when he’s stunned by the sound of your voice.

Seconds later you’re running towards him, grinning and giggling. He feels his chest squeeze tighter and he’s practically scurrying towards your direction to embrace you in the biggest hug of his lifetime.

Holy fuck. Lewis thinks. Holy fuck, fuck, fuck. Thank god.

His eyes close and he squeezes you tighter, hand pressing to the back of your head as he attempts to calm himself down whilst you cling onto him.

He very quickly pulls you towards his lips, kissing you deeply, so needily, he doesn’t care who see’s.

Both of you keep talking over the top of one another, excited to be in each others presence again.

“But I thought your plane went down?!” Lewis doesn’t notice until you hold his hands that he’s shaking.

“No, we turned back miles ago, it was too dangerous- oh I’m so glad you’re okay, I didn’t know what happened to you.”

The feeling is mutual, and even if you only get a night to spend together Lewis makes it all worthwhile.

Ron Speirs:

This man is tense asf from the second anything happens.

“What happened to the nurses?” His voice is quiet yet sharp and quick. His hand grabs at Nixon’s arm, urging him to answer immediately.

“Uh, I don’t know. They were in the hospital that got bombed, we’re not sure.” Lewis sighs out slowly, clearly affected by the trauma, but he has no idea about Ron and you.

Ron takes it upon himself to literally do anything he can in his power to find you- ofc he’s worried about everybody else, but the two of you have been together in private way back since before you were deployed. His hearts in his chest.

“We got them all sir, but one.”

“Y/l/n. Where’s Y/l/n?” He attempts to keep cool but his heart is thumping, he has the worst sickness and he can barely hold back how he’s feeling.

The man pauses and shakes his head. “Don’t know, sir.”

The whole company is obviously in grieving, this is when he’s still part of D-company but he’s in misery- he breaks only when he’s alone and in front of the men he keeps an even more tough exterior than ever.

Truthfully he’s hard to be around, he tries to push you to the back of his mind, trying his best to accept you’re gone and that’s it but he can’t.

He’s in the infirmary one day, after literally being shot in the ass- he almost can’t believe what’s going on and refuses to believe it’s true. Ron for the first time feels weak and useless.

“Can somebody help?! Please!” A frantic calling from a more than familiar voice cries out as he’s laid on his side in the bed, curtains closed around his area.

This is the first thing that causes him to move. Ignoring all soreness (he probs just blocks out the pain) he crawls out of bed at the sounds of scurrying and desperate shouting of the medical staff.

Ron could’ve sworn that was your voice, and when he stands, opening the curtains and staring straight at you, he thinks he’s seen a ghost.

He mutters your name so quietly, but you look up, face dirty and slightly bruised and bloodied, uniform dusty with a GI woollen jumper hanging over your frame. Like you’re just looking at each other.

“Excuse me, please.” You’d just tell the medical staff, hurrying your way down the hospital, weaving passed people until you’re stepping closer and closer.

Ron’s breathing and heart increases in a state of shock and you nudge him back in, yanking the curtain shut before you just engulf one another in a hug.

“Ron.” You’d mutter through tears, he grips you even tighter, engulfing your smaller body. “I was so scared, Ron.”

He pulls back your face, his eyes wide and stunned before holding either side of your face and pulling you in for a deep, borderline desperate kiss.

It’s the best comfort either of you have had in days, and once your lips part you fall back into his arms.

He’s probably lost for words for the first few minutes, and he’ll become all teary eyes for the first time in front of you.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” He speaks for the first time, checking over you worriedly after remembering you must’ve been in that shelled out hospital

“There was Germans… I took a patient and ran away in the bombings. We got lost- we only just got back here now. I don’t know if he’s okay or not.”

All he can do is comfort you and hold you close, still in a state of disbelief.

“Why-why are you in here? What’s wrong?” You’d eventually ask. “I was shot.” Ron spoke in a blasé manner. He didn’t care about himself, only you.

“Where?”

… “my ass.”

Babe Heffron:

Hear me out, you’re a little bit clumsy yet always careful with everybody’s life but seemingly your own?

Like you’ve been at war for 8 months or so and still Babe worries that you’ve stumbled onto enemy lines just because you went to find a man’s boots or something.

He looks out for you and takes care of you so much, like it’s so so sweet and everybody’s aware that you’re Babe’s girl, even if you keep it more or less hidden out of respect for the fraternisation rules.

Anyway, you’re assigned to second platoon & that’s how you and Babe got close initially, the second nurse was sadly lost, and ever since then in Bastogne, Babe has been extra worried that something might happen to you.

It’s the day after Jackson passed and everybody’s exhausted, even though they’ll be moving off the line, they’re all sick of war.

“Hey anybody seen y/n?” He’d glance around the room where she’d usually be hanging out when she wasn’t at the aid station.

“She’s not at the aid station?” Joe would ask.

“No.” Babe would frown, pushing himself up and heading out.

He tries not to panic at first, but admittingly he has an anxiety nibbling away at the back of his mind.

Something just feels off, you’re not at CP, at the infirmary, with the other nurses, where you’re billeted.

“Babe!” One of the nurses shrieks in surprise as he bursts into the house they were stationed in.

“Sorry, sorry. Anybody seen y/n?” None of them have, not since the early afternoon and it was nearing 6. Your duty ended three hours ago.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

(Okay this isn’t as extreme as some of the other cases, I wanted to change it up a bit)

20 minutes later he’s chain smoking like crazy, asking all the guys where the hell you were.

“Babe? What’re you yapping about?” Your voice appears, giggling as he snaps his head, almost doing a 360.

At first relief floods through him, but then he see’s your helping a limping soldier, bleeding just below your eyebrow.

“Jesus- what the hell?!” His voice raised, breath stuck in his chest.

“A little help here, Babe?”

After hooking up under the other side of the wounded back, he helps you both back to the aid station firing questions a million miles an hour in your direction.

“I’m fine, Babe.” You’d soothe. “What happened?! Where th’ hell were ya?!” He’d take both your shoulders, holding his hand over the cut on your forehead, in an attempt to apply pressure.

“Babe-” you’d swat his hand away, becoming distracted with the sight behind you. Clearly you didn’t realise how worried he was.

“Ya shouldn’t run off like that!”

“Babe-”

“Ya got me worried sick!”

“Edward! His leg is crushed! Let me go help!”

“Edward?!”

“Wait here, alright? I’ll be 10 minutes.”

Babe waits, watching you help some of the other nurses and medics with the man you both carried inside, tending to what looked to be a badly wounded leg. He grimaced and turned away, growing an even more profound respect for you (if that was even possible).

When you’re done you head straight back to him. “Sorry, Babe, his leg was so-” You go to hold his arm but instead he turns, engulfing you in a bone crushing hug.

“I thought I’d lost ya, never do that again.”

Finally, you’d silence and realise just how worried he was. He was border lining upset, his frustration had dissolved and turned into pure relief.

“I’m okay.” You’d whisper, leading him to the quieter area of the porch.

“Where were ya?” He’d glance over you, checking head to toe everything was okay, hands still on your forearms.

“I went to get some supplies, then I found him- his leg was stuck under rubble. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“What ‘bout ya head?”

“I knocked myself in the face, you know what I’m like.”

“Oh thank god, ya scared me, angel.”

Ugh he’s such a sweetheart, just apologise to him and promise you won’t do that again without telling him.

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #ron speirs x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers headcanons #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon x reader #babe heffron x reader

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