#this statue is going to last thousands of years

[manzuaves]

ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴘɪɴ ᴘɪʟʟs (ᴀɴᴅ sʜɪᴛ)

pairing. f1wag!manon x f1driver!reader

warnings. mentions of substance use. curses. lwky cheating that's it.

Monte Carlo, Monaco, 2025.

You were indulging in the opulence of the Monte Carlo lifestyle. You were the newest rising star on the grid, and this was your first ever GP in Monaco, signed under Scuderia Ferrari. To say the least, you were pretty much nervous. Especially when the view from your million-dollar hotel suite stared straight down at the grid.

Outside, the city pulsed with legacy and wealth. Classic Monte Carlo. But inside, there was you. A hardworking kid who only got here because of pure passion. Not wealth, not last names, not family friends with sponsors. Just grit, long nights, and a go-kart your dad kept alive with duct tape and prayers.

Your overlooking view made you see how different your life was from these people. The Mediterranean Sea contained yachts that looked like floating mansions, each one a symbol to old money and older power. The balconies were filled with champagne flutes and designer sunglasses. Brands you used to only see in magazines now hung casually on the shoulders of people who’d never had to check a price tag.

You pressed a hand to the giant window glass of your hotel suite. Somewhere out there, mechanics were prepping your car. Somewhere out there, your name was printed on the Ferrari garage wall. But inside, it was just you and the quiet weight of everything you’d sacrificed to stand here.

The old you, the kid from a two-bedroom flat who spent weekends fixing busted engines, wouldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe the view, the hotel, the red suit with the prancing horse stitched on your chest.

But even with all that, you didn’t feel like you belonged. Not really. Not when everyone around you made luxury look like second nature.

You'd still prefer cheap wine over their thousand-euro champagne, a late-night take-out from McDonald’s over whatever they served on yachts. You still checked price tags out of habit. The heavy Rolex on your wrist felt more like borrowed time than status.

You reached for the pill with hands that shouldn’t have been shaking. You didn’t know if it was habit, desperation, or survival at this point. Maybe all three. But you knew the feeling that came after: the slow, spreading calm, like slipping into water just warm enough to forget how cold the world had been.

Your eyes closed, just for a second. And in that second, you saw it. The life you’d once dreamed of. The roar of the crowd. Your name on a race suit. 

And when you opened your eyes, the dream was real.

Below, the grid pulsed with life. Cameras flashed. Revealed your infamous orange-and-black rival stepping out of his car, immediately engulfed by media and attention.

But it wasn’t him who made your breath catch.

It was the woman at his side.

Manon Bannerman.

She clung to your rival like she was built for the cameras. Her lips were red, her sunglasses oversized, her posture elegant and lethal all at once. The world moved around her, but she moved like the world belonged to her.

She was everything Monte Carlo epitomize: wealth, beauty, scandal. But to you, she was something more dangerous than any of that.

You knew her in ways your rival never could, in places no cameras had ever caught.

And that was the problem with Monte Carlo. It had a way of blurring lines. Yet she was the only line you saw clearly. And the only line you kept crossing.

Everyone expected it. You ended the GP night with a spot on the podium. Not first place, but not bad for a 22-year-old like you. You hadn’t beaten your rival, but it was a good start to your career. The crowd cheered, your team celebrated, and the press didn’t waste any time, jumping on the chance for interviews and congratulations.

People kept inviting you to the after-party at Amber Lounge, but you weren’t in the mood for any of it. Tonight wasn’t about the spotlight or the champagne. You just wanted peace.

Your phone buzzed constantly. Your family, back home, had flooded your messages, especially your father. You’d decided to reply to them tomorrow. Right now, you just needed a break. You were about to activate Do Not Disturb when a notification popped up on your screen.

dont reply: hey! congrats, champ. can i come over?

You stared at the message for a moment. Of course it’s her, you thought, your mind flashing back to the last time you two had been together. The temptation was undeniable.

You: i didnt win manz. anw arent u spposd 2 b celebrating w yk who?

dont reply: lol, he’s grown. i think he can handle himself.

dont reply: so?

You hesitated. The pull between you two had always been impossible to ignore, even when you knew you shouldn’t give in.

You: ugh. fine

dont reply: i’ll be bringing your fave wine and takeout. 🍷🍟

The clink of wine glasses echoed in your marble suite. Manon sat on the couch, clad in a plain oversized shirt, old pajama bottoms, and her hair tied back like it was any other night.

This was the only version of hers that only you get to see. No designer heels, no red lipstick, no flushbulbs painting in her gold.

You placed your wine glass carefully on the rare wood table, the liquid swirling inside as you took in its deep, rich color.

The metallic taste of the alcohol now soothed you. You didn’t even like it the first time you tried it. It was too bitter and too pretentious. But now? Now it slipped past your tongue like second nature. Like everything else that used to feel foreign before you got good at pretending it belonged to you.

“Gosh, this brings me back.” she murmured, tugging your usual order out of your hands to sneak a bite. Her half-eaten cheeseburger sat forgotten on the table as she reached over to steal a handful of your fries. “You still eat like your seventeen.”

You laughed, wiping the side of your mouth with the back of your mouth. She looked at you with plain disgust that she used to always wear whenever you ate like you haven’t seen food in days.

“You’re so uncivilized, Y/N.” She said, shaking her head but there was no real bite behind it.

“Sorry, rich kid,” you shot back, mouth half-full. “And you keep stealing my food, so maybe we’re even.”

Her eyes darted to the ketchup still clinging to your mouth that you failed to wipe off. Without thinking, she leaned in and wiped it away with her thumb gently and deliberately.

Then with that same efortless boldness only she could pull off, she brought her thumb to her lips and licked it clean.

She caught the way your eyes followed her every move, and the flicker of attention only made her bolder.

“Still so messy.” She murmured, her smirk curling like it knew exactly what it was doing to you.

The room felt smaller to you. Warmer. Like the air had thickened.

When the heat crept up your neck and settled low in your stomach, you reached for the little bottle on the table like its muscle memory by now. You let one rest beneath your tongue, closing your eyes for a beat as the familiar weight pressed down just enough to steady you.

Just enough to keep her from unraveling you completely.

When you opened your eyes, she was staring at you. Frowning.

“I thought you stopped that.” She said quietly.

And that was when it hit you, how familiar this felt. How it mirrored a different night, 5 years ago, when you were seventeen, and she was still the girl who tasted like wine she wasn’t old enough to drink and talked like nothing in the world could hurt her.

You remembered her frowning then, too.

But that time, it was over a half-empty bottle of cheap painkillers and a race you thought you’d never win.

And for a second, it almost felt like seventeen again.

South Garda, Italy, 2020.

“Fuck!”

It was the fourth time your kart had sputtered out halfway through practice, and the frustration was boiling over. You slammed your gloves down on the steering wheel, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

From the corner of your eye, you saw your dad sprinting down the pit lane, waving his arms like he could will the damn thing back to life. Sweat clung to his shirt, darkening the fabric, but he didn’t care, not when it came to your kart.

You pulled off your helmet, the heat and anger mixing with the weight of disappointment in your chest.

“Again?” your dad huffed, already crouched beside the engine. “This thing’s gonna kill us, kid.”

“It’s alright, dad.”

You looked at the sky like maybe the clouds could answer for all of this.

The clouds felt so far like the dreams you swore you’d reach, even when the world kept telling you otherwise.

Then an angelic, familiar voice called out from the fence.

“I told you to stop naming it after your exes,” Manon teased, arms folded over the track barrier, her Chanel sunglasses sliding down her nose.

Your dad chuckled at Manon’s comment, shaking his head as he wiped his hands on an oil-stained rag.

“And you, Manon, get out of the sun. The heat’ll kill you and your dad’ll kill me after.”

But Manon, like the headache she so proudly was, simply pushed her sunglasses up her nose and didn’t move an inch.

“I’m not a kid, Bill,” she said with that lazy grin, like she knew exactly how far she could push before anyone would stop her.

You caught her smirk as she climbed over the barrier anyway, sticking out like a sore thumb amid the grit of this poorly managed track. Her designer clothes so expensive it felt like even the dirt was too intimidated to touch her.

She didn’t feel like she belong there, not really. But she was there for you, anyways.

“So what, Y/N?” she said, walking toward you with that careless sway only she could pull off. “Are you just gonna sit there and cry about your kart, the one you named after your ugly ex, or are we actually gonna hang out after this like you promised?”

You stared at her, half-annoyed, half in awe because even when even when the sky felt distant, she made it feel like something you could reach.

The kart was dead for the day, your dad grumbling under his breath as you helped him roll it toward the trailer, sweat darkening the back of his shirt. He gave you a tired nod before glancing across the lot where his real job was waiting.

Manon’s family car gleamed in the sunlight, black and sleek and so clearly out of place in this dusty karting circuit. Her father was waiting for your dad to fetch him some place in South Garda you’re too broke to be familiar with.

Your dad wiped his hands and jogged over, falling into his other role: the one that paid the bills. Driver. Assistant. Sometimes mechanic, sometimes errand boy. Whatever they needed, he became. Because that’s how you afforded the dream.

“I’ll come back for you, kid. I’ll just fetch your father.”

Manon just gave your dad a lazy thumbs up. Like she wanted him to leave the two of you alone already.

Once her family’s sleek black Cadillac disappeared down the hill, Manon reached into her oversized designer tote comically out of place against the grime of the paddock and pulled out a crumpled paper bag of fries. Then, like it was the most casual thing in the world, she revealed a half-wrapped bottle of wine.

You immediately recognized the label, one of those expensive vintages you’d only ever seen in the wine magazines her dad left scattered around the Bannerman property.

Your eyes widened. “No way. I’m not drinking that. That bottle’s probably worth more than my entire kart!”

Manon just smirked, already working the cork loose like she did this every weekend. “Exactly why we’re drinking it. Papa won’t even notice. He doesn’t drink red.”

You watched, half-horrified, half-impressed, as she reached into her bag again and pulled out two mismatched plastic cups. The kind you’d usually rinse out and reuse during long weekends at the track.

“Your sommelier, m’lady,” she teased, pouring the deep red into one and handing it to you like it wasn’t a crime against luxury.

You took it, still stunned. Fries in one hand, a wine worth a month’s rent in the other.

Once the metallic taste of the alcohol hit your tongue, you winced. It was unfamiliar and sharp, nothing like the sweet sodas or watered-down iced tea you were used to. You looked at the cheap plastic cup in your hand, then at Manon, who was already taking another sip like it was juice.

She laughed when she saw your expression. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, nudging your knee with hers. “It’s an acquired taste. Like me.”

You snorted, trying to mask how fast your heart was racing, faster than you could ever drive your kart. You didn’t know it then, but she was right. About the wine. About her.

And about how two kids from entirely different worlds: one born into grit, the other into gold, were somehow casually enjoying the time of their lives in the middle of a dusty paddock. Sharing cold fries and smuggled wine like the world wasn’t waiting just outside the barrier, ready to split you apart the moment it noticed.

Back then, nothing tasted right like it was all just waiting for you to acquire it, to grow into it. Yet something it still felt right.

Especially when she leaned over, brushing the salt from your lips with her thumb before pressing hers against yours in a kiss.

Her kiss tasted like the expensive wine you were drinking: rich, heady, a little dizzying. A kiss that overwhelmed you in the quietest, most dangerous way.

The kind of feeling that settled in your chest and made everything else blur out. The kind only Manon could make you feel.

Neither of you were sure when it started. But suddenly, you were just kissing in one of your hangouts like these when both of your knees brushed against each other and suddenly she just pulled you in.

And in moments like these, it felt like you were rich. Not in money, but in possibility. Like you could have it all as long as she was there, laughing with you in the dirt, lips stained with stolen wine. Like becoming an F1 driver was more than a dream, it was inevitable.

But then came the floating. The dreaming too far. The way your mind would start to spin, faster than your kart ever could.

And just before you let yourself drift too far, you pulled back to reach into your pocket, slipping a cheap little pill onto your tongue. Just something to remind you the world was still waiting to pull you back down.

She arched an eyebrow, her tone laced with mock offense. “Really? Should I be offended that my kiss makes you reach for a pill?” Manon frowned, her arms crossed as she studied you. “Or is this just how you handle feelings now?”

“Oh shit, my bad. But I’m not exactly in the mood for a lecture right now.” You shrugged, trying to play it off even though the slight tension in your voice betrayed you. “And it’s not you.. it’s just.. this whole driving thing. The pressure and the expectations. It gets to me sometimes. But don’t take it personally, Manz.”

You didn’t have to explain everything because she knew already. Manon had seen it all, felt it, even. The way you wore the weight of your ambitions like armor, even when it was cracking beneath the surface. She just didn’t know how to fix it, or if you even wanted her to.

All she did was grip your jaw, her fingers warm and firm against your skin, pulling you back in. The kiss was deeper this time, almost as if she was trying to anchor you, to pull you back from whatever spiral you were drifting into. Maybe, just maybe, it would make you feel grounded again.

[ouijathicc]

I’m really glad there’s been a wave of people understanding BSC as a layered character and not just “the angry dommy buff man OwO”. But one thing I’ve noticed is people focusing on the clear grief he feels and thinking this grief is his *entire motive*. I think people hear that the other option to be part of the motive is boredom and think “that sounds bad” and well, people think either his motive is normal or he’s crazy but well…

I think you’re neglecting to understand how goddamn agonizing this level of boredom would be. Like. This kinda shit when mixed with the grief is genuine psychological torture. He’s trapped in a cycle of loss for all eternity while he presumably never changes, centuries blend together. He sees the same people over and over again, at some point he stops making the distinction between new and old advisors because it’s not like it matters they say the same things anyway. And they all die in the end.

I’m not saying it’s not the grief. It definitely is. And he misses his first kingdom clearly (key on first btw he doesn’t seem to miss any of the subsequent ones from what we’ve seen and they definitely happened according to the born wither die thing, at least not the same way). But I think a part of that is also that he misses feeling something, misses being able to care. One of the curses of immortality is that time loses meaning, death and boredom are the only constants. And both can be equally fatal.

Because it’s not like someone just getting slightly bored of having the same food for a week, it’s like “nothing ever changes no matter what I do and it slowly drives me insane because the very things and people I used to care about are nothing to me now but part of this endless cycle. Even if I want to care I can’t, because it means nothing if nothing makes it mean something. Destroying everything is the only way to make the pain stop even if only for a moment, even if an eternity of different boredom comes after, at least it’ll be new for a few years.”

It’s not just hurting other people, it’s self destruction, and yes. Boredom IS a factor. But not a human level, a practically eldritch madness level of boredom, that, mixed with the grief we all understand he had, drives him to insanity and trying to literally fucking end the world- because of the world ends it’ll be a change from the status quo.

Like, from a human base level understanding he’s unreasonable. But to be clear. He’s lived thousands of years he’s experienced the rise and fall of nations enough times that it doesn’t feel like a big deal and the loss and guilt it hits him with every time after he fails again and again to make something permanent convinces him it’s impossible to make society last and that trying will just hurt more.

He destroys because it’s easier than coping with eternity and with the fact that he can’t stop failing and with the fact that he will never go with the people he leads he won’t die. But it’ll feel like death. Etc.

I’m just sorta rambling all of this is to say I feel like in trying to understand him on a more complex level we actually often simplify BSCs depth because yeah. Boredom was a factor. And it was a good fucking reason actually, at least from his perspective as an immortal being. Selfish, yes, very selfish. I think he understands it’s selfish and kinda childish to just break everything so he won’t have to watch the cycle anymore.

I’ve asked myself a few times why he didn’t just run away. And the answer is that he didn’t want to and that leaving wouldn’t help . He was made for this, and it’s supposedly his fault this is happening. People keep telling him that if he just tries a little harder he can make something last forever beyond just himself. But he can’t do it. No matter how hard he tries, and leaving will not only make the guilt worse because it means he’s fucking over more people, and the cycle continues anyway. And that still hurts every time. It’s not different with or without him.

TLDR: Boredom was a factor. But it’s a lot bigger than just childish annoyance. It’s like. Some eldritch madness shit.

[dflogerzi]

Yeah. @bobbydoguk I actually do not have much right to weigh in. Other than I have adored England since I was a young child. But I will add to this from thinking on this more and in the morning light...

So when is it "when" for someone over there to take the situation in hand? Because from the cheap seats I am sitting in "when" should have been right after the Oprah interview and before Philips funeral. It was a complete disgrace watching Harry saunter around wearing a mic, and acting like he was running the show. Then came his book, the horrible Netflix debacle... and the hits have never stopped coming. I was watching a video last night where it was saying that he is now demanding his rights as a peer of the realm to an audience with the king. What the heck?

I do think that they grey rocking him is the very best answer. But leaving him all his royal titles while running around the world is running down not just the family, but the UK as well. He is FULLY out of control. And it is going to get worse. Because here is my guess, and I really do not matter at all as to an opinion, but he most likely does want his status back... but what it really is going to get down to is money. He wants what William has. I believe that he believes that he is entitled to it. Has anyone EVER seen a more entitled POS ever??? He is not even bothering to hide it.

So what part of being the other offspring descended did he not get? Because he has uncles and an aunt who are an example completely of how it works. The weirdest thing though, is almost everything he and Meghan are doing is what they could have done, except for the merching part, within the monarchy. All they had to do is play the game a few days a week, smile, shake a few hands, and they would be living the highest life and the elites they seem to crave lined up to meet with them. I think Meghan lost her mind. They could have a huge royal property by now and as many servants to abuse as could be handed over... Sorry, but we do hear of their bullying treatment towards those who have served them.

How hard is it to manage a royal website? I have had a website myself. You go in, do some typing and deleting, and presto. Anyone who walks away should not be left in the LOS. Andrew and Harry should have both been dealt with long ago. Then for a reality add in that Harry is also a traitor to king and country and this is a no brainer. It is incredible to watch. When does Charles actually do what monarchs do?

Harry is falsely representing the country, the monarchy, and the integrity of a thousand-year heritage. He is out of control and to me it looks like it is going to get even worse. If that is even something imaginable... because he is already a complete monster.

Okay. Yeah. It was another vent. 🙄 Not that it will do any good. But there you have it...

Hugs sis. ❤️🌹

Charles... Let's Talk.

Yeah I know, you are the big leagues and you will never see this. I am this little American nobody off in her little non-important life in my own tiny corner of the world. But I have your number. I have actually had it for decades, and I am going to unleash.

Do you not think that some of us do not know what you truly are? I get the whole bit that you have cancer, you are suffering, and we need to be compassionate. Okay. And I do feel compassion, and I am very sorry for your illness. But here goes anyway because I am SO over it. And by that I am speaking of the never-ending drama with Harry.

What does Harry have on you? Because the only reason I can really see, and I am not buying the 'you love the dear boy' thing, he must have some heavy juice. I am going with blackmail. And do not think Charles that I have not done my homework, gone down rabbit holes... I know stuff. Many of us know who you once ran with and the history is recorded.

Harry is a nasty, horrible, disgusting traitor that will do anything to bring in a buck... other than to earn it with honor. He is going to unleash the secrets. And you will have your legacy in tatters either now or later. You look fully weak, and kicking the can down the road is not a good look. Not that anyone, anywhere expected anything different from you at all. I should not speak for others and I apologize for that, but wow. It is completely evident that the whole 'never explain or complain' thing is somewhat working, but not exactly. We all remember the strong and decisive moves that took a king down in a history not that long ago. What is happening now is FAR more explosive and worrying. Edward VIII is kind of looking like a good guy in the scheme of things.

Give it to William. And my suggestion is to do it soon. Because the media is chomping at the bit to tell all the truths. We can all feel it. A thousand-year legacy is on the brink of ending. I am guessing William is ready to step up, or gladly step out. I grew up loving the tales and fables of yore which is why I am even writing this or caring. I actually now would be happy to see him just say to hell with it, take his babe and his kids and go live in the countryside happy, safe and in joy. William, you do you and I am going to just feel the happiness of it. But hopefully you will not have to. I have known in your whole life which I watched with love and care that you will one day wear the crown. But I want for you the happiness and fulfillment that your wonderful life choices have created for you. Just look at what you have manifested. I am so proud of you, and I send you all my love.

Charles, I was there in London on your wedding day to Diana. I have really tried to like you for most of my adult life. You made that in most decades really hard to do.

It is time. Deal.

To my friends. Sorry. I am being annoying again. But this is my blog and I get to do that. What the heck. Love me or leave me? I have had this vent brewing for a while.

I guess I feel better. Will let you know...

[xxswagcorexx]

haven't posted this anywhere publically yet BUT I MADE A TECHNO STATUE IN CERAMICS CLASS!!!

happy birthday king <3

[todayisafridaynight]

We rlly don’t need another majima game 😭 please give other characters a chance he already had the spotlight in 0😔

lord if i speak on goro majima.

[strangunddurm]

His

Pairing: Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, possessive, toxic behaviour, oral! fem receiving, oral! male receiving, established relationship.

A/N: First The Pitt fic 🥰

“He was her before he saw anything else in the room”

It was you who fell in love with him first. In lust. Infatuation. He had been watching you over the rim of his glass and all it took was that look, that intensity, to have you preening for him. Presenting in heat, just like he wanted.

It didn’t take a lot for you to follow him home, to his apartment that was more clean and pristine than any apartment you had been in before.

It felt as if you had kissed his mouth before, like you had ran your hands over his body and had his cock in you a thousand times. Familiarity.

The way his fingers stroked your walls, brushing against that sweet spot inside of you was sinful. It made your toes curl, head thrown back as your spine curved, the thought of him being the last thing before your eyes fluttered closed.

It was impossible not to love him. To yearn for him every second of every day until you couldn’t imagine even the smallest fragment of anything else. You would throb for him, a need settled deep in your spine that would never truly go away. Insatiable. Impossible to satisfy. A never ending hunger that consumed you and shaped your entire being.

It had been years since then, that first time that would always be as fresh in your memory as if it happened the day before.

You had been happy since then. Nestled into your own bubble of sweet domesticity that you never wanted to end. That never would end. Just you and him until death would inevitably do you appart.

As you grew together, you learned all about him, the most prevalent one being thatJack enjoyed his privacy. You knew it was simple in his eyes. Keeping his work life separate from his private ensured less tangles, less mess, less probability of something going wrong. He didn’t want things to go wrong with you, couldn’t let it happen. So, it wasn’t that he went out of his way not to talk about you to other people. It was just that others not knowing was better than them knowing. In his eyes. He didn’t think there to be anything wrong with that. People had their quirks.

At first, Jack had been operating on a strict need-to-know basis which included only two people. You and him. And then… he didn’t really know how to get the words out to Robby or anyone that he was dating someone young enough to be anything but appropriate. But he didn’t want appropriate, didn’t care for it. Not if it meant he couldn’t be with you. And now, years later, it had become normal for him to avoid mentioning anything that could even cause people to guess his relationship status. You were so sweet on him that you didn’t mind it at all. You knew his reason for it and you loved how protective he could be of you.

And your little arrangement had been perfect, up until you went out with your friends to the same bar he was at with half the ER department after a too hectic shift that he shouldn’t even have worked. It had been natural for him to accept the last-minute invitation, wanting to unwind with a couple of beers as the weather in Pittsburgh was just a tad too cold to enjoy them stagnant on a bench. However, the last minute plans meant that he was not able to become privy of your own last-minute plans, only exchanging short I-Love-Yous over text before locking his phone and following the heard to a bar a few streets over from the hospital. And now, here he was, hours later, forced to watch some fresh-faced intern try to smooth talk his way into your panties.

Jack had spotted you the second he walked into the Irish bar. It had caused him to pause in his steps just long enough for Robby to notice. He had tapped Jack on the back and teased him about being distracted by all the ��pretty ladies”. Jack had of course been distracted by you, but it wasn’t for the reason Robby was thinking. Instead of saying anything, Jack had simply laughed it off and taken his seat that was the furthest out in the booth and just so happened to be in the perfect view of you.

It was all going so well. You were enjoying your time spent with your friends and Jack was trying to appear interested in whatever his colleagues were blabbering about. Trying being the operating word.

It was a surprise that the two of you hadn’t found yourselves in this situation earlier. After all, it wasn’t like you never went out at the same time. You would usually have a system in place where one of you would redirect your separate parties to different bars. But maybe this was worth it. Just for a night. Jack loved watching you. It was his favourite way to pass time, like watching a movie he hoped would never end. And you looked so happy and carefree, not a single worry seemed to weigh you down as you threw your head back and laughed at the world.

Your happiness made Jack happy until that wasteful newbie slid into the empty space by the bar next to you. And, of course, you being ever the polite person that you were, didn’t tell him immediately to fuck off, despite the uncomfortable smile that Jack could clearly see on your face. Your friends had abandoned you for the dance floor so there was nobody to do the telling off for you, unfortunately.

He tried to control himself, he really did. He sat in his seat, hand gripping the bottle tighter and tighter until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Whitaker’s taking your girl.” Robby hadn’t meant anything with it. It was obvious to him that Jack was clearly interested in the woman by the bar, he just didn’t know the entire reason why. Robby enjoyed riling Jack up at times, found it entertaining, so it was natural that he would take this chance to do it as well. Jack would usually take it all in stride with his own sarcastic response. Robby hadn’t expected for Jack to stand up in barley concealed anger and march off toward the pair, half-full beer bottle being knocked over in his haste.

“Hey, man! I was just kidding.” Robby called after him, fumbling to get the bottle up right before the entirety of its content was all over him. Jack pretended not to hear him, not even offering a half-assed apology over his shoulder. Getting you away from the intern was his main priority at that moment. Besides, it’s not like Robby would care after Jack bought him another beer later as an apology.

He knew you saw him coming. Your eyes connected with his over the intern’s shoulder, but you continued whatever unimportant conversation you had as if it was nothing. Jack knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. It was that still-wet-behind-his-ears intern that insisted on staying and talking to you despite your obvious disinterest. Whitaker was oblivious and you were sweet. But did you enjoy playing games with him? You could’ve at least acknowledged his presence in some minor way, didn’t he deserve that at least?

"Dr. Abbot-"

“Beat it.” The worlds flew out of Jack’s mouth before he, himself, could even consciously think about what to say. The intern opened his mouth, no words came out but it was enough for Jack to level him with that typical Jack Abbot glare for him to make himself scarce.

“Didn’t you see me?”

“Hello to you, too.” The smile on your face was sweet and lovely and Jack almost caught himself smiling at you in return. It was so easy for you to make him forget whatever mood he found himself in. Being around you automatically made everything better in his opinion.

“I didn’t know you were going out.”

“Well, you never came home so I assumed you were still busy at work. I sent you a text.” Jack flinched slightly, he had read it but hadn’t had the chance to reply before he was pulled away by an incoming head injury, but he could see that you didn’t hold any resentment against him, it was merely a statement. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to get so lost in the Pitt that he would forget to phone home to you. He always tried to, of course, but minds tend to get lost in whatever overwhelming flow of information they were the recipients of every now and then. It was a quality he sometimes wished he didn’t have.

“Sorry about that, kid.” Jack looked down at you with a tight-lipped smile and a scratch on the back of his head, feeling sheepish.

“No need to apologise. I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself.” You patted his chest affectionately before glancing over his shoulder to where he had been sitting before. Robby was watching the two of you like a hawk with a glee-filled grin on his face. He sent you a wave that would’ve probably caused you to turn the other way and flee if you didn’t already know Jack.

“Your friends are watching us.”

“Are they now?” Jack was completely uninterested in the observation. “What did that guy want?”

“What guy?” You were playing stupid with him.

“Please don’t.” Now wasn’t the time for teasing in Jack’s opinion.

“He wanted to take me home and ‘treat me right’.” Whitaker was definitely more inebriated than he had first thought. You let out a soft giggle as you relayed what the guy had said to you. You hadn’t taken anything of it seriously seeing as you were very much happy with the man you were in a committed relationship with. You just entertained the guy for less than five minutes as you knew Jack had been watching you. Maybe it was an unhealthy aspect of your relationship but you enjoyed seeing Jack get a bit worked up whenever a person would hit on you.

“I hope you told him to fuck off.” Jack’s hand had slowly crept to your hip whilst you had been talking, grabbing a possessive hold of it, urging you just a bit closer to him.

“I didn’t,” If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that Jack was half wolf at that moment from the almost animal-like growl that tore its way through his chest. “I told him that my boyfriend would tell him that.” So, you weren’t completely out to give him a heart attack.

“Good.” Jack was just about to stoop down and place a kiss on your lips when your hand on his chest and a turn of your head stopped him.

“And just what do you think you are doing?” You tilted your head toward his colleagues to hint at the fact that you were definitely being watched.

“Kissing you?”

“Are you sure you want to do that right now?”

“Definitely.” And kiss you he did. Jack always kissed you like it was the only thing that could keep him from dying, like your kiss and your lips were his saving grace in life. You kissed him back just as eagerly, letting out a delighted moan as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

You didn’t get far. It’s not like either of you could drive home in the state that you were in and calling a cab to come and pick you up would take too long. Jack was desperate to have you. Seeing another man hitting on you had awoken some animalistic urge inside of him and he was ready to rip the clothes off your back and mount you.

Jack needed to feel your sweet, silky walls wrapped around him as he came deep inside of you. He wanted to mark you up so that every single man, woman, and other in the entire state of Pennsylvania knew that you belonged to him. You were his and no one else's.

There was an alley just behind the bar where you were at. Of course, Jack thought you always deserved better than to be fucked in some back alley, but sometimes you had to do what you had to do. Plus, it was so secluded that not many people knew about it and it wasn’t exactly a place that saw a lot of foot traffic.

Jack pressed you up against one of the brick walls, looming over you as he kissed your cheek, down your neck, sucking very lightly before you delivered a smack to his chest.

“Don’t. I don’t want any visible marks.”

“Too bad.” You let out a sigh of defeat and Jack could almost hear the eye roll that you surely made. You were a stubborn person but so was he. You knew that sometimes he would only listen so much to whatever you were telling him.

The bricks were uncomfortable against your back but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were far too lost in the small ripples of pleasure that were begging to turn to waves.

“Jack...” You breathed out as he hit one of your weak spots with his lips. He nibbled at your skin softly, his moustache and beard tickling your skin in that way you loved.

“I should put a ring on your finger so everyone knows you’re taken.” You let out a laugh over his mutterings. You would love a ring on your finger, but you didn’t need a ring to feel secure in your relationship with Jack. You already knew that it would be the two of you until the very end.

“Maybe a baby in your belly, too. To make it extra clear.” Now that made you moan.

“You’d like that? You want me to fill you up until you can’t take it anymore? You want me to give you a baby?” Your drenched walls clenched around nothing as Jack drove you insane with his words.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you take my cum, but you have to be good for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes! Please, Jack...” Your hips bucked, seeking any sort of friction to ease the ache in your panties. The throbbing between your legs had steadily grown and had now reached a point where you could not ignore it.

Jack rutted his own hips against yours and you couldn’t help but let out a desperate moan as he rubbed against your clit deliciously.

"You want me to fuck you, sweet girl?"

"Mhmm."

Jack loved hearing you moan for him. He loved hearing the delightful squeals you would emit as he would nip on your breasts or finger you to his knuckle. He couldn’t wait to see himself leak out of you after he came so deep inside of you and fucked you so good that you would feel him for days, if not weeks.

"How badly do you want it?." Jack wanted to hear you beg. He liked hearing it, it made him even harder than he already was when you would plead for his cock.

“So badly. I need you to make me cum on your cock. Please, Jack!” You squealed in shock as he attacked your lips, devouring yours like he was a man starving. Jack was insatiable when it came to you. Biting and pulling and pecking at your lips, trying to sate the need he had for you in any way that he could. His tongue explored your mouth with a delighted moan, and you grew wetter with every wet kiss.

Jack’s hands made quick, steady work on your dress, pushing and pulling at it until it was bunched around your waist just high enough so that he could slip his hand into your panties and finally get a feel of your wet heat.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart?” A lewd grin took over his face as he ran two fingers through your slit. “Are you that desperate?”

Jack dipped his fingers into you just enough so that you could begin to feel a hint of the stretch he could give you, but not enough to please any desire.

“What do you want first? My cock or my mouth?” Waves went straight to your core as you pulled on his dark hair as you tried to not lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure of it all too soon. How could you possibly decide?

“Anything, I’ll take anything.” You moaned out.

Jack made the decision for you, moving quickly as he dropped to his knees in front of you, not giving a fuck about the ache in his leg after a too-long shift. Didn't care about anything else in that moment except needing to get a taste of you. He was perfectly in height with your cunt, breathing hot air onto it from how close he was. He began by leaving kisses on the inside of your thighs. They were slow kisses, those kinds of kisses that you would still feel, even after his lips left your skin.

His hands caressed every inch of you that they could reach as before trailing all the way to the edge of your panties and sliding them to the side. He focused on your clit, giving it a quick rub and flick, eliciting another soft whine from you.

“You have such a pretty pussy, honey.” Jack could admire you like this for centuries and still not get enough. He would happily stay on his knees for you until the end of time.

He, rather sweetly, brought your leg over his muscular shoulder so that he could devour your seeping cunt. The obscene sounds of his wet tongue laving through your soaked folds quickly filled the quiet alley, but you could bring yourself to care if a passer-by happened to hear you. Jack’s ministrations on your pussy felt far too good to care about anything else at that moment.

“Fuck, Jack!” Your voice came out as a half whine as the bricks of the building dug into your back while you writhed in euphoria.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Been waiting for this all day.” Jack mumbled against your clit, sending glorious vibrations through the sensitive flesh. You could feel his tongue slipping into your clench hole, lapping up every single drop of juice that you were kind enough to give him.

“Oh, right there, don’t stop!” Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging at it as your thigh muscles twitched when he sucked on your clit.

“Who does this belong to?” Jack brought his pointer and middle finger to your lower lips, spreading them apart and exposing more of your oh so sensitive clit to his unrelenting mouth.

“You, Jack! Only you.”

Your hips bucked violently as he slid a finger into you. “Your pussy’s so greedy, sweetheart. You want my cock already?”

“I-” You didn’t know what you wanted at that moment. Didn’t care, as long as it brought you pleasure, you would be the grateful recipient of whatever he wanted to give you.

But Jack was determined. He was a man on a mission, practically driven mad by his insatiable hunger for you. Jack loved eating pussy, and it showed in every movement, every lick of his tongue, every suckle of his lips.

“I’m so close, Jack!” You squeaked, chest heaving as you glanced down. Jack’s eyes were shut, his wrist twisting and steadily pumping a finger in and out of you, curling it to graze against your g-spot with every move whilst he suckled and licked your clit.

“Mmm, not yet. One more minute, I’m not done.” Jack slid his finger out before grabbing your thigh firmly with one hand, his wet fingers digging into your flesh as he held your leg still for him. You were squirming, legs shaking as you fought your release.

“Please, Jack! I need to come!” Your whole body was burning, your back arched almost painfully as the pleasure kept building and building, his tongue endlessly flicking your swollen clit.

“Alright, honey, come. Come all over my fucking face,” he growled out. One, two, three more swipes of his tongue over your clit and you finally came. A half-scream barreled through the alley as your legs shook and your hands tightened almost painfully hard in the curls of his hair. Your muscles clench, thighs clamping around his shoulders as he continued sucking, licking, and nibbling over your sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, honey, so good. Such a good girl for me.” He hummed, delivering one last, long and slow lick from your entrance to your pubic bone. He kissed your clit before standing back up, wiping his mouth somewhat clean with the back of his hand as he watched you in bliss.

You were utterly breathless, slumping against the wall as your muscles twitched as the cool air hit your pussy.

Jack barely let you recover before he made quick work on his cargo pants, dropping them down just enough so that he could pull out his painfully hard and leaking cock.

You fell to your knees almost automatically, mouth-watering at the sight of him. You didn’t care about the uncomfortable gravel under your knees, needing to have a taste of him.

Your hands came up to rest on his thick thighs as you lurched forward, taking a hold of his thick shaft. You fisted his length, spreading the small bead of pre-cum over his tip with a thumb when you came to the top. You had always marvelled at the sight of him. He was so impossibly thick, your hand barely being able to wrap around him, but yet he fit so perfectly inside of you.

"Open your mouth."

You eagerly opened your mouth to take him in, letting your lips wrap around his shaft and eagerly took him in your mouth. You moaned at the taste of him and he groaned at the sight of you on your knees. Your eyes were wide and glossy, completely hazed with lust. Your mouth was hot around him, your soft moans slipping out around him.

Jack takes a steady hold on the back of your neck, guiding you firmly as you took him deep in your mouth. As dominant as his hold was on you, he still let you set the pace. You went slowly at first, teasing him as you took him in your mouth for several bobs of your head before increasing your pace. You forced your head down the length of his shaft, making you gag around him as he hit the back of your throat.

Jack had the most beautiful cock you had ever seen. It was long and thick with one perfect vein protruding from the base of it all the way to the tip that always seemed to be glistening with evidence of his arousal. It had just the right curve to reach the place where you needed him the most.

“You’re so fucking cock drunk, aren’t you, honey?”

You moaned in response. Moaned over the salty taste of his precum that set your tastebuds alight, humming in appreciation as you took him even further in your mouth, hand wrapped around the base of him, squeezing and twisting whatever you couldn’t fit. He grew impossibly harder with every suckle of your lips.

Slurping and sucking the way you knew he liked it; your throat welcoming him with each uncontrollable rut of his hips.

“That’s it, right there.” Obscene gulping sounds filled the evening air that surrounded you. Your jaw was aching and globs of saliva were spilling out around the edges of your mouth as Jack rutted into your mouth.

You bobbed your head back and forth, pushing bubbles of dribble farther down his shaft with each drive of your swollen lips.

The throbbing between your legs was almost painful at that point. Your hand travelled down your body to the apex between your thighs to relieve some of the pleasurable pain. But Jack stopped you before you could even slip your fingers into your panties. He grabbed ahold of your arm, pulling you up as softly as he could and swivelling you around as he tutted.

“You know the rules; no touching yourself allowed,” Of course, you knew the rules, but you were just so wet and ready for him that something had to be done. “But you’re just so fucking desperate? Aren’t you? Desperate for me to fuck you in this filthy alley.”

Jack tugged at his cock with one hand while the other pushed at your back so that you would bend over. You were more than happy to comply, hands coming out to brace yourself against the wall and jut your ass out, high up in the air.

His touch was electric as he slid his large hand over your ass, leaving a trail of burning fire in its wake. It tickled your skin as it made its way between your tender thighs, fingers gently sliding through your soaked lips.

Your walls clenched tightly over his teasing; your hips wiggling to try and get him to slip at least a finger into you. Jack knew what you were doing.

Jack dipped two fingers in between your lips, spreading more of your wetness up to your clit.

“You’re always so wet for me.” Jack praised in admiration. “Always so tight.” You could feel the tabs of his fingers dragging through your walls lazily.

Jack slid his fingers out, bringing them up and having a taste of you, suckling your juices off of them.

“Taste so fucking sweet.”

You were just about to beg him to fuck you when he finally slipped the head of his fat cock inside of you. However, he pulled out before you could savour the feeling, and you cried out over the loss.

“You want me? Want me to show you who you belong to?” He cooed before doing it again; sliding the head of his cock in just enough for you to feel the burn as he stretched you out before pulling back out again.

“Yes, please!” Jack was kind to you as he finally let you have it. He finally sheathed himself deep inside of you with one sharp and precise thrust that had you gasping and squeaking.

Jack didn’t give you any time to adjust, not that you really needed it with how wet you were for him. He pulled back before sliding himself back inside of your heat, shuddering at the feeling of your dripping pussy clinging to every inch of him. He didn’t start off slow; instead, he set a rapid pace, balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, but he still made sure that you could feel all of him.

Your pussy gripped Jack’s cock with every deep thrust he gave, missing him for the fraction of the second that he pulled back.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Jack growled behind you, fingers digging into your hips as he drove into you harder. You clamped down on him as he hit that spot that he knew so well.

“Fuck, Jack, I’m gonna come.” You breathed out, tits bouncing with each thrust.

Your words made Jack drive into you even harder and deeper, chasing your high for you.

“Not yet.” Jack knew you were just teetering on the edge of pleasure, he could feel it, but he wanted to prolong it for just a little while longer.

“N-no! Please, Jack!” You whimpered out a plea.

“Please, what?”

Thrust.

“Please, let me come, sir!”

Thrust.

Jackp hummed as if he was thinking it over, teasing you. “Wanna feel that cunt milking me as I shoot that cunt of yours full of cum.” You barely heard him over your moans, but your pussy definitely registered his words as your walls fluttered wildly. “Gonna make sure everybody knows who you belong to.”

You would surely feel him for days, with every step you took, from the force he was fucking into you with. Your mind had gone faint from his quick and sharp thrusts. A feeble whine escapes you and you were sure you would cry if he didn’t let you cum soon.

Jack delivered a quick slap to your left cheek and you hissed from the sting. The burn left behind momentarily distracts you from the building pressure in your stomach.

“You gonna cum for me now, honey?” Jack slammed into, the tip of his member repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside of you. And you came with a whine through white flashes of euphoria when you felt the pads of his fingers drawing tight circles over your aching clit.

Your entire body convulsed in pure rapture and you could hear Jack behind you endlessly muttering fuck as your clenching walls triggered his own sweet release.

He pumped into you lazily a few more times, making sure to milk himself completely dry before withdrawing from you. Your legs were still shaking uncontrollably, toes curled as the last few waves of pleasure rolled over you. You slumped against the wall, face pressed against the cold brick as you tried to catch your breath.

“Fucking hell, Jack.” Sex with Jack was always glorious, but something about this fuck had been extra special.

“I really mean it. I’m going to have to keep fucking you until your belly’s so swollen that everybody can see who you belong to.”

Jack didn't regret a moment of that night. Not even when he saw the shit-eating grin on Robby's face when he sheepishly walked into The Pitt the next day.

"You never told me you like 'em that young."

[iseos]

LET THEM KNOW

─── idol!enhypen x gn!reader s. how your relationship is revealed 769 words (~110 each) g. headcannons, fluff w! occasional idol!reader | © iseos library

이희승 — LEE HEESEUNG

— it happened during a livestream. sunoo and jake were live together at their dorm when sunoo read out comment asking about the oldest member. "heeseung? oh, yeah, he's out with his partner, right?" jake said as he looked for something on his phone, seemingly forgetting what the two of them were doing. the chat stilled for a moment before it exploded with thousands of messages as sunoo let out a quiet 'what?' jake nodded and continued to dig himself a bigger hole, "yeah, he's with y/n." it wasn't until he looked up and was met with sunoo’s wide eyes that he realized what he said.

박종성 — JAY PARK

— for weeks fans have noticed a pattern in your and jay's weverse activity. at first, it seemed like a coincidence—one of you posting a song, the other sharing a similar one, or a playlist that had strikingly similar themes. you posted a melancholic ballad with a caption that fans didn't pay much attention to. however, just a few hours later jay shared a song along with a caption that seemingly was responding to yours. it didn't take long for a few observant fans to dig through past posts and notice a pattern of what looked like the two of you were indirectly communicating through song recommendations. while your relationship was never officially announced, it was enough confirmation for fans that something was going on between the two of you.

심재윤 — JAKE SIM

— your relationship was a closely guarded secret, known by only those closest to the two of you. however, things took a turn when one of your friends posted a photo to their public instagram—one that clearly showed you and jake in the background. the photo left no doubt about the status of your relationship, and even though the account didn't have many followers, fans still managed to come across it. despite the immediate scramble to delete the post, screenshots had already gone viral and everyone had seen it.

박성훈 — PARK SUNGHOON

— rumors began surrounding sunghoon when a news outlet claimed he was spotted on a date with an actress. fans were in shock, articles were full of headlines making the same claim, and the company was quick to issue a statement, “we regret to inform that the claims made regarding sunghoon and the actress are completely unfounded and inaccurate.” however, in their hurry to deny the claims, the company added: “we can also confirm sunghoon is in a committed relationship with another individual, who he has been dating for some time. we respectfully ask for the public’s understanding during this time.” in their rush to distance sunghoon from the actress, the company inadvertently confirmed your relationship, a detail that had been previously unknown to fans.

김선우 — KIM SUNOO

— it was the last thing anyone was expecting. an ordinary day disrupted by the company statement confirming your relationship that read: "we would like to officially confirm that y/n and enhypen's sunoo have been in a relationship for several months now. we kindly ask for your continued support and respect for their privacy." the message, while straightforward enough, left fans reeling. most were excited, flooding social media with positive reactions, while others were shocked, trying to process the announcement.

양정원 — YANG JUNGWON

— on new year's eve, the world was focused on fireworks and celebrations, but for k-pop fans their focus was on the highly anticipated dispatch couple reveal. as midnight approached, many people were expecting to see the names of two actors, but they were instead surprised with your and jungwon’s names. pictures accompanied the claim as well, of course. there were photos of the two of you going out to eat while wearing nondescript clothing, and others of either one of you walking into the other's company building; it was enough to solidly convince fans that you were undeniably dating.

西村力 — NISHIMURA RIKI

— it started with a single fan’s post. the fan had been out shopping when they noticed two familiar figures browsing through racks at a high-end clothing store. the two of you were dressed casually, both wearing caps and masks, but your body language was unmistakable. you laughed together, occasionally holding up items for the other to see, and at one point you held a jacket up against niki to check the fit. the fan, stunned, quickly took a discreet photo and posted it online. the post gained traction immediately and within hours, it had snowballed into a collection of sightings. fans began piecing together a timeline of occasions where the two of you were seen together. the rumor was never addressed directly, but the increasing sightings with less protection to hide your identities only added fuel to the fire.

[daycourtofficial]

You’re losing me

Summary: Azriel has always put his duties as spymaster above his own needs and wants. How long can you let him keep putting work over you before boiling over?

Author’s note: I am so sorry about this babes, this is pure heartbreak. Anyway angst is a new genre for me so please lmk how this goes for you (good, bad, awful - lmk)

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

You sit in the library of your shared home, the soft cushion of your favorite armchair not providing the comfort it used to. The library was your favorite room in the house - you and Azriel spent thousands of hours in here reading independently, reading to each other, or just enjoying the silence with each other for company.

The room was beautiful- you both adored the entirety of the house, but this room drew both of you in immediately. It’s beautiful stain-glass windows creating brilliant hues of color to move about the room during the day, bringing life to the dark wood that adorns the walls of the room.

Vivid colors from the scenes in the stain glass window would dance across the floor, as if reenacting the depictions just for you two.

It’s dark now, the sun having set hours ago, and you can’t remember the last time you enjoyed the light of the room. The last time you and Azriel had enjoyed the light of the room.

The last time you and Azriel just enjoyed each other’s company without knowing he was going to leave in a matter of hours.

It was a song and dance you were familiar with by now - he’d return home from doing some work requested by Rhys, you’d make him some food, you two would snuggle or have sex, and he’d be gone by the time you woke up.

It wasn’t always like this, but the two years since the war have caused Azriel to dive headfirst into his work, accepting every scrap of work Rhysand would push his way, darting out the door like it was calling to him.

You hear the front door open, knowing who it is despite their silent entrance. Sighing, you stand up and walk out of the library, closing the door behind you.

You walked through the halls of your home, feet softly padding on the hardwood floor until you see him across the living room, still in his leathers.

It used to amuse you, when he’d return in his leathers, compared to you in your frilly nightgowns. It was quite a sight, the dark leather surrounded by the satins and cottons of your nightgowns.

Now it just furthered to prove the divide between you.

“Az, we were supposed to go to the bakery today to taste cakes.”

You hardly let him walk through the door before picking a fight, but his absence at the bakery hours ago left you ample time to stew in your negative emotions.

He runs his hand down his face, the purple and blue bruising under his eyes having grown more and more prominent over the weeks. Truthfully, you don’t want to start a fight, but you’ve let too many of these things slide in the past two years and you’re at your tipping point.

Missed dates, rescheduled dinners, missed anniversaries, cancelled trips. You had tried talking several times about it, but you need your fiancé around more than he has been. No amount of begging can make him do anything about it, though.

The most egregious of all was the continually delayed status of your wedding ceremony. You’ve had to rescind the invitations two times now, and you’re have tempted to send out fresh ones that just say “date: TBD”.

He just sighs in response, telling you, “I had to work, I had a mission.”

You sigh, knowing it was the truth. Your fiancé would never cheat on you, but he would put everyone else’s needs above his.

And above your own.

“Azriel, I really needed you today. It was important to me for you to be there.”

“It’s just a cake - pick any flavor you want. You know what I like,” he says, sitting onto the couch and taking off his boots.

“It’s not just a cake! This is your wedding too - I cannot make every decision for this. It’s supposed to be about us, not about me.”

You shake your head, exasperation bubbling to the surface, “I feel insane going to these appointments because I have a fiancé who never shows up! I swear I heard the florist say she pitied me because I pretended to be engaged!”

Azriel drags a hand down his face, “can we not do this now? I’m exhausted and want to bathe before bed.”

You huff out a laugh, as Azriel tries to move past you but you continue to follow him. “When would be a better time? You’re hardly home lately, and you leave at a moment’s notice for Rhysand.”

He whips his head at you, “it’s my job, my duty.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure you could delegate a decent proportion of your work to the people under you that you both hand selected and trained yourself!

He sighs, exasperated, “it’s my job.”

A line you’ve heard a thousand times. You knew who he was when you began dating him, you’ve always known who he was and what he did.

But you thought his need to feel worthy would wane with time, not get worse.

“You put Rhys’s needs over mine!” You’re shouting now, something you never do, and Azriel bites back, “he’s my high lord - and yours.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to keep you at his beck and call!” Your hands were running through your hair, unable to have the same argument again and again.

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Oh so was it Rhys’s beck and call to push our wedding back three separate times?”

He whirls around at you, pointing, “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Three times is not fair! It’s like you don’t even want it!”

His silence to your accusation rings through your ears. A damning, deafening silence.

You count to ten in your head, and he hasn’t made a sound, only looking at the ground.

His lack of words echo through your mind, even as his hands reach out to you, his desperate pleadings of “I-” and “baby” falling on deaf ears.

“I’m glad to see where we stand.”

You begin to turn, but stop yourself.

“When I told Nesta our wedding was delayed again, she told me if you really wanted it, really wanted me, you’d suggest we just run off and get married like Rhys and Feyre did.”

You take a shaky breath, “but you never did.”

You step back from him, unable to look him in the eye, unable to do much of anything, except retreat from your shared bedroom, softly shutting the door behind you.

Azriel stands in the now empty room, your footsteps ceasing down the hall but continuing in his mind. Every second he stands there, the further you become. He starts to move, starts to pick up his feet, his shadows urging him to go, go, go.

You can fix this, they tell him. Go, now.

His thoughts are broken up by Rhys’s voice, a smooth sound at such odds with the chaotic edges of his thoughts.

Az, I need you.

Azriel doesn’t even ask if it can wait. You’ll understand. He’s sure of it. He can fix things when he comes home. Rhys just needs him right now, he can help him out, then he can talk to you.

He scrawls a quick note on the table for you to find before retreating into his shadows.

He returns home a few hours later, his assistance speeding up Rhys’s needs. He stops to grab you your favorite flowers, a book you’ve been eyeing, and a necklace he’s had his eye on in the shop for ages.

The necklace gives him pause, as he realizes he first saw it eight months ago, its shine reminding him of your eyes.

Had it really been eight months?

He kept telling himself he was going to buy you the necklace for a special occasion, but so many have slipped by without his acknowledgment this past year.

Gods, he thinks, did he even celebrate your birthday?

Surely he hadn’t gotten that caught up in his work.

Had he?

The streets are quiet as he makes his way back to your shared home. He thinks over the past year and how he hardly saw you, and when he did, he often left not soon after seeing you.

He opens the door, the house eerily silent following your fight earlier. He deserved your silence. He couldn’t tell you how scared he was to marry you, tethering your soul to his for the rest of your lives.

You, who was so kind and so loving, shackled to him for eternity. He knew the insecurities were ridiculous, that you loved him with every part of yourself.

But that didn’t stop the self-hatred from oozing out of him every moment.

He hadn’t been there for you this past year. He had let his own need for approval overshadow your needs.

He groans, needing to find you so he can fix things. He walks through the house, not even realizing the book he’s carrying is a duplicate to the one sitting on the coffee table.

He starts really thinking, trying to remember the last time he had touched you, kissed you, held you.

Too long, he realizes, as he’s made his way through the whole house without a sign of you. A shadow wraps around his wrist, pulling him into the kitchen. He finds the note he had left earlier still on the table, but you had scrawled a second message underneath. Five words that break his resolve, forcing him to his knees. Your handwriting so clear, save for the splotched ink, wet from tears.

I wouldn’t marry me either.

Part two

[jakubrozalski]

'Zygmunt and Zośka'

Ewka joined the "Zośka" battalion before the outbreak of the uprising, together with her beloved Tomasz. She met Tomek in the Grey Ranks two years ago, they participated in many reconnaissance and sabotage missions together.  They both welcomed information about the planned uprising with excitement and euphoria. Those moments seem so distant now... The uprising has been going on for a month now...  Tomek is gone. All she has left are memories of long walks by the Vistula and those short moments together when they felt free and happy, despite the horror surrounding them. Now, with a Colt M1911 in her hand, which she received from one of the "Cichociemny" fighting in the Old Town, she is waiting for the Germans assault, leaning on Zygmunt statue, her last sanctuary, last support. They will both fall today, the old king Zygmunt and brave Ewa from the Zośka battalion. -

Exactly 80 years ago, 1 August 1944 at 5:00 p.m. the Warsaw Uprising broke out. The Uprising was supposed to last a few days at most, but it did last sixty-three days and claimed hundreds of thousands of lives. Directly, of course, it was aimed to liberate Warsaw from the occupation of the falling German Reich, but indirectly and politically (as part of Operation 'Burza') was aimed against the USSR and Stalin's plans. This was also one of the reasons for its calamity and the help ( of the Red Army ) that never came. It was definitely too optimistic for the Polish underground resistance command to count on any help from Stalin, whose plans concerning Poland were known and who, as a vindictive and unforgiving person - in my personal opinion - certainly wanted to take revenge for the 1920 and his personal defeat.

There is no doubt, however, that it was an uprising of brave young women and men, full of high ideals, passion and dreams of a free homeland, who wanted to feel a little freedom, self-agency and relief, but also to take revenge after 5 years of terror and occupation. Very tragic and beautiful at the same time. It is to them that I wanted to pay tribute and honor their memory. 

I also observe with great concern and sadness what is happening in the world currently. Not even 100 years have passed since the apocalypse of WWII and the world is again full of divisions, tension, polarization, violence and hatred... For this reason I believe it is worth remembering and reminding about history, to try to stop it from repeating itself, over and over again...  Honor and glory to the heroes who fought for freedom and higher values ​​against evil. Work process: https://jrozalski.com/projects/QKmkRd

[spencersmopbucket]

A Deadly Flower Bloomed | Caius Volturi

Pairing: Caius Volturi x Reader Summary: They'd always known you'd make a stunning immortal. But based on your shy, docile human temperament, they weren't aware how deadly. Warning: slightly violent and gory, newborn vampire alert

The wait was torture for Caius. It had been three days; three days of silence. Your absence mocked him. He was used to receiving a tug on his cloak every few hours -- you -- your human needs demanding his attention and closeness. He'd become adjusted to your soft, innocent giggle echoing throughout the castle, no doubt getting into mischief with Jane or chasing after the pet cat they'd allowed you to have. He'd grown to love your warm fingers threading through his when you craved rare affection from your King.

Aro had spent a bit of time holding your limp hand while you transitioned on the silky bedsheets of your quarters. This was one of the only times Caius wished Aro couldn't read minds. He could see, just based off from his brother's porcelain expression, that you were in agony. It made him shudder for the first time in hundreds of years. Normally, such a human reaction disgusted him. But when it came to you, there were no limits to his affections.

In your human life, you'd been so undeserving of this type of pain. You were pure, quiet, humble. You were dainty and sweet, such a contrast to Caius himself. An angel in human form.

Now, you were locked behind thick doors of stone and silence. He hadn’t left the corridor outside your chambers since the moment your screams had started. Even Marcus, ever-emotionless, had raised a brow at his brother’s refusal to move.

Three days. Three nights. Eighty-two agonizing hours of Caius pacing like a maddened thing, listening, analyzing every faint twitch of sound behind that door. He had committed a thousand atrocities over the centuries -- but this was the first that truly felt like penance.

He didn’t eat. He didn’t speak. And though his immortal heart did not beat, it ached.

You had trusted him with your life -- with your soul -- and he had returned the favor by sentencing you to fire. Beautiful, purifying fire, yes... but fire nonetheless. And now, all he could do was wait for you to awaken -- reborn, perhaps, but changed. There was no going back.

The last time he saw you, your eyes had been glassy with tears, your hand trembling in his as your heart slowed under the weight of the venom. “Don’t leave me,” you'd whispered.

And he hadn't. Not once.

So when the stone doors creaked open -- slowly, cautiously -- Caius straightened like a statue brought to life, his breath caught in his throat.

Then he saw you.

The transformation had been nothing short of divine. Your skin gleamed like moonlight, your eyes were red and ravenous. But it was the way you stood -- tall, regal, absolutely still -- that made him falter.

Your fierce eyes finally ceased from analyzing your surroundings, clearly enamored with your newfound eye strength. They zeroed in on your mate, every inch of his skin, his red eyes, his plush pink lips and platinum hair. You inhaled his smell, a warm bliss finally hitting your cold eyes, showing him similarities to the girl you were when you were human.

His worries melted away. Even changed, you were still in love with him.

You stepped forward, for once in your life not tentatively. Your cold hand floated up, sliding onto Caius's cheek.

Caius couldn't breathe, not that he needed to. Not when your gaze held such fierce clarity -- like your eyes saw into his soul now, truly and completely. Your touch, once timid and featherlight, now carried a steadiness that shook him far more than any battlefield or rebellion ever had.

Your thumb brushed over the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, and something in your expression softened -- just a sliver, but it was you. It was the very core of your gentleness breaking through the cold steel of your rebirth.

“I remember everything,” you said softly, your voice velvet and laced with power.

It wasn’t the high-pitched, uncertain tone you used to carry. It was smooth, confident, regal. A voice meant for a queen. His queen.

Caius turned his face slightly into your palm, closing his eyes for just a breath, allowing himself this small moment of relief. You had come back to him. Not just in form, but in essence.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here,” you added after a beat, your tone flickering with a trace of old vulnerability. “I thought… the fire might take too long. That it might change me too much.”

“It did change you,” he whispered, finally letting his hands rise to cup your face in return. His thumbs rested beneath your jaw, tilting your head gently as his eyes drank you in. “But in the most magnificent of ways. You glow, my love."

Caius barely had time to marvel at the wonder that was you before your cool lips met his in a kiss that shattered centuries of restraint.

Your mouth pressed to his with all the need you’d bottled up over three days of burning agony -- and a lifetime before that. Caius responded instantly, his hands sliding from your cheeks to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was fervent, claiming, the taste of your venom still fresh and electric on your tongue. It was heat and hunger, devotion and desire -- coiling between you like a tether pulled taut by centuries of longing.

You moaned softly into the kiss, and that tiny sound unraveled something feral in him. One hand tangled in your hair, tugging gently, and your sharp gasp made him deepen the kiss, parting your lips with his own.

For someone who’d never kissed with a vampire’s strength or precision before, you were devastating. Your hands roamed over his chest, up to his shoulders, as if reacquainting yourself with every part of him -- but this time, without fragility. You didn’t have to hold back anymore.

And neither did he.

His fangs grazed your lower lip, teasing, and you pulled him impossibly closer, tongue slipping past his lips, matching his fervor with your own. There was nothing tentative now. You kissed like a queen -- bold, dangerous, in complete control.

But then --

You froze.

Your hands stilled against his chest, your body going rigid in his arms.

Caius pulled back just slightly, confusion flickering in his crimson eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, voice rough from the kiss.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even blink. Your pupils dilated, nostrils flaring as a sickeningly sweet scent hit the air -- warm, metallic, utterly intoxicating.

Blood.

Your head whipped toward the far end of the corridor, nostrils flaring as the scent grew stronger, laced with panic and fresh pain.

Down the hallway, behind a set of double doors leading to the main offices, the human secretary had sliced her hand on a piece of parchment paper. A minor, foolish accident. One drop. That’s all it took.

Your eyes darkened, jaw clenching as your newborn instincts screamed to the surface, drowning out everything else.

“She's bleeding,” you hissed, almost reverent, voice low and guttural. Your hands trembled -- not with fear, but with craving.

Caius stepped in front of you instantly, eyes sharp. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice a command born of centuries of rule. “Not her. Me.”

But you were already gone.

One blur of motion -- faster than the human eye could track -- and you’d vanished down the corridor.

Caius took off after you, a blur of platinum and black. Behind him, Aro and Marcus appeared in the hallway, faces unreadable.

“Shall we intervene?” Marcus asked quietly.

Aro smiled, almost fondly. “No. Let her show us what she is.”

When you reached the room Janine was in (a human secretary that hated you, mostly out of jealousy), your sharp eyes caught the droplet of blood falling from her finger. Caius, Aro, and Marcus stood behind you. A raspy growling exhale left your lips as Janine's wide eyes met yours.

You tilted your head, a smirk falling onto your ravenous lips as you picked up her fear. Your new confidence was evident to the Kings.

Three years of Janine's torment had made you cold. Unforgiving. Similarly to your mate.

"Funny, the situation we're in," You said, your voice low and rasped with hunger. You took a small step forward. "I used to be scared of you. Now look. You're cowering. All because of a paper cut."

You circled her, like a lion. The thin line between your restraint and hunger wavered every few seconds -- but you wanted to taunt her. You wanted her to feel what you'd felt for years. She'd made you feel inconvenient, powerless, she'd embarrassed you. You were scared of her gaze for years.

Aro smirked, watching with an almost fond interest. "This is quite the transformation," he commented softly to Caius and Marcus, his voice dripping with amusement. "I had no doubt she'd be a force to be reckoned with, but this… this is something else entirely."

"You remember the way you treated me, don't you?" you purred, your voice cruel and smooth. "The way you looked down on me? Like I was just some little girl beneath your notice. Do you remember the way you used to laugh at me? Make me feel small... insignificant?"

Janine's face paled even further, her lips trembling. She nodded, clearly understanding now the weight of her mistake.

"Name, please--"

A musical laugh slid from your lips. You slid a cold finger down her face, stopping at her pulse point. Your eyes darkened.

"No one's stopping me. No one values your life. You were cruel to me when I was fragile," you hissed, wrapping fingers around her throat. "You've worked with the Volturi for years. Do they show mercy when wronged?"

"Darling." Caius hummed, tilting his head. "Let us not play with our food, hm?"

You paused at Caius's voice, the coldness of his words settling in the air like ice. His tone was both commanding and restrained, a gentle reminder of the control he held, even as he stood just behind you. His presence was a dark anchor, pulling you back from the edge, even as your instincts screamed for more.

Aro’s amused smile flickered for a brief moment as he exchanged a glance with Marcus, both of them content to watch the drama unfold, but it was Caius who seemed to hold the reigns of the situation.

You slowly, reluctantly tightened your grip on Janine's throat, but your eyes remained locked on hers, still burning with the promise of your wrath.

Caius’s gaze was unwavering, his crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. "It is beneath us to linger on a mere human. We've played the game long enough," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, yet there was a finality to his words that made your breath catch.

With his final assert, you pulled Janine's head sharply, exposing her neck. Then, a beautifully gruesome sight was exposed to the Kings. Your fangs extended and you dove in.

The moment your fangs sank into Janine's soft, fragile skin, the room was filled with the sickening sound of her blood spilling into your mouth. The taste was sharp, metallic, and intoxicating, but it was the fear that mixed with it that made the experience so exhilarating. The pulse beneath your lips was strong, a steady rhythm that resonated in the very depths of you.

Janine’s body jerked beneath you, her hands weakly clutching at your arm, but it was futile. Her struggles were meaningless, a mere echo of her last attempts to assert any kind of control, and you let her helplessness feed your hunger.

Behind you, you could feel the presence of the Volturi Kings -- Aro, Marcus, and Caius -- each of them silently observing the spectacle before them. Aro’s usual grin had faded, his gaze fixated on you with an intensity that was both curious and approving. Marcus stood still, his face unreadable, though his eyes hinted at something more... calculating. Caius, however, remained as steadfast as ever, his crimson eyes locked on you, unreadable, yet undeniably proud.

As your fangs tore into Janine's neck, her blood flowed faster, and you could feel the rush of power flood through your veins. You had never felt so alive, so unstoppable. The human was nothing more than a source of sustenance to you now, a mere pawn in your game of power.

Yet, even as your hunger began to fade and her life force ebbed away, there was something dark and beautiful about this moment. The vulnerability of the human woman, the sense of control you held over her, and the knowledge that you were no longer the weak, fragile being you once were. You were no longer the one cowering under her gaze.

Caius stepped closer, his voice low and commanding. "Enough," he murmured, his eyes glinting with the slightest bit of impatience.

You reluctantly pulled away, savoring the last taste of Janine's blood before letting her fall to the ground, lifeless and drained. Her body crumpled like a discarded puppet, leaving behind only the memory of her cruelty.

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of what had just transpired hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Aro’s smile returned, this time tinged with something darker, almost satisfied.

"Truly magnificent," he remarked, his voice filled with quiet admiration. "You have embraced your power fully."

Caius’s gaze never left you, his voice just a whisper. "You are no longer the person you once were. You are powerful, so powerful. But with time, we will learn to harness this power."

You straightened, feeling the power of the moment settle over you like a cloak. Your eyes flicked from Janine’s lifeless body to the Kings before you, each of them acknowledging the transformation that had taken place, both in you and in the room.

For the first time since your transformation, you felt untouchable. But as usual, Caius grounded you. His fingers intertwined with your blood soaked ones as he walked with you down the corridor of the castle, leading you to his quarters.

When you reached them, he presented you with a bejeweled box, opening it quietly. Inside, there was an exquisite black dress, lace and silk with a corset. A blood red ruby sat in the center of the breast. Beside the the dress was a black cloak, similar to the one Caius donned. And finally, there was a glimmering necklace -- A Volturi crest, encrusted with diamonds.

"A queen must have the proper attire. Your transformation has officially made you a part of me -- my wife. It does not compare to your effervescence.. however," he hummed, a rare, gentle smile on his lips. "It is the very best attire possible. I hope you will accept it."

The words hung in the air like a delicate thread, wrapping around you in a way you hadn't expected. Caius's rare, gentle smile flickered across his face, a soft contrast to the fierce power that surrounded him. His words were not just a gift -- they were a declaration. A bond formed not only by blood but by something deeper, more eternal.

You stood there for a moment, your gaze flicking from the dress, to the necklace, and finally back to him. The offer was not just material -- it was the mark of his trust, of the position he was giving you. His wife. His queen.

Your fingers brushed lightly over the fabric of the dress, feeling its weight, its softness. The black lace shimmered faintly, as though it were alive. The blood-red ruby at its center seemed to pulse, like a heartbeat, in sync with your own.

For the first time since your transformation, you felt the full weight of what you'd become. You were not just Caius's equal in power -- you were now tied to him in the most sacred way possible. You were his queen. His partner.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your blood-soaked hands feeling lighter in his grasp. His touch was the grounding force you needed -- steady, unwavering. And yet, there was something else there too. A promise.

You then turned, placing a gentle hand on Caius's chest. Love poured into your red eyes as you leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss onto his lips.

"It is all absolutely beautiful, Caius. Truly. I couldn't ask for anything more than being your queen. For eternity."

Caius stood still as your hand rested on his chest, his crimson eyes watching yours with an intensity that spoke volumes. The world around you seemed to quiet in that moment, as though everything else faded into the background and only the two of you remained -- as it was always meant to be.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours yet again. The kiss was a powerful affirmation, full of love, respect, and something much deeper. It was a union of souls, forged through centuries and now sealed in this single, tender moment.

His hands moved to cradle your face, his fingers brushing along your jaw with a possessiveness that was unmistakable. The kiss deepened, a soft fire igniting between you both as you both sought to imprint this moment into your very beings.

When you finally pulled away, the air between you crackled with something more than just desire. There was something eternal, something unshakable.

His voice was a low growl, soft but brimming with power. "You are mine, now and forever. No one will ever be as important to me."

A faint smile curved his lips, one that was as rare and precious as the moments when he allowed his vulnerability to show. "You have everything, and you will have everything for eternity. I will never let you go." He finished.

You stepped back slightly, the glimmering necklace catching the light, the Volturi crest now a symbol of your bond. "I will always be yours, Caius," you whispered, your voice steady but laced with the same promise. "Until the world crumbles."

Caius reached forward, his hands pulling you back into his embrace, his lips finding yours once again. This time, it was more than just love. It was the sealing of your fate, the beginning of your reign together, side by side.

The world could tremble before the Volturi, but you and Caius would be the ones who stood unyielding, together.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Magical girl y/n christmas canons?

Tinsel, magic and hot chocolate (platonic)

Sorry I released this after Christmas i have written so much that there’s a huge delay whenever I type on this on this

Christmas headcanons babyyyyyyyyy let’s goooooooo

Anyways Merry late Christmas

Masterlist

Christmas wasn’t much of an occasion for you before you were adopted by billionaire philanthropist playboy Bruce/Brucie Wayne

When you lived on your own Christmas was a luxury you could hardly afford to yourself

Maybe if you had a few crumpled dollars saved in the back of your pocket you’d splurge on a hot chocolate at a stand somewhere

Or you’d have a second cup of instant ramen

But besides that there wasn’t much to celebrate besides the fact that with Christmas came winter and that brought the cold

The old apartment you had didn’t have much heating on account of the busted windows, decaying door and fluctuating power

So winter had alway been a life or death scenario every year

The fear of going to sleep and simply not waking up had been to prevalent to enjoy winter

Snow and ice loosing their beauty in the face of the real potential of dying

You couldn’t appreciate the leisure of affording skates to glide across the ice, of dancing and sliding with family or friends at a rink

Couldn’t come to see the beauty in the snow glimmering like thousands of diamonds under sunlight, of laying in its soft cushioning to make snow angels or snowman’s

Before all of this you couldn’t

Not when you had to survive not only for your own sake

But for the sake of your universe at large

Because if you died the shadowmites would eat and destroy everything

Everyone

All the happy families that pass you by on the street as you adjusted a ratty falling apart hand woven scarf would die

As would the kind older vendor who gave soup out to all the unfortunate during the season

The man who dressed as Santa to bring joy despite the fact that the kids in the shitty parts of Gotham didn’t Believe anymore

A store clerk who slips an extra candy cane in your bag when your not looking as a small surprise

The hero’s of the city who worked perilously on the holidays

For the villains you somehow gained the affection of

Croc in the sewers who lets you sit down on your breaks by the heater you’d dug up from the trash, a gift from last year he treasures for both its practicality and sentimentality

Mr Penguin who gives you the extra food from his Christmas banquet you’re invited to, the way in which he may or may not have tried to insist you take a fur coat a customer “conveniently” left behind with the tag still attached

Ivy and Harley who make you scarves and mitts they knitted by hand, the fun brightly coloured yarn held together by love and dedication that helps you get through the winter’s harsh nights

Mr freeze who seems content this season to have some company in his loneliness if even for a few minutes, and though you can’t appreciate the cold like he can due to its threat to your well being you can appreciate the beauty of Gotham blanketed in glistening snow instead of the dreary smog

Riddler who gifts you a bright green wrapped present that is opened with a riddle, inside being a few books that be personally thought were good

Catwoman who ends up gifting you a large throw blanket with a kitschy picture of a cat that helped you survive the long cold nights

But this is all before your adoption

After, it’s much different

Decorating

Christmas at the Wayne’s and winter all together now is a much different experience

For one the decorations

The most you could do was a small little Charlie Brown tree, you’d decorate them with the little bootleg magical girl figure you got from thrift stores or dollarama’s

But somehow Alfred on the first day of December had the entire manor furnished

Garlands lining the walls with Christmas lights and ornaments hanging off them that shine in the warm lighting of chandeliers

Statues and figurines of Santa and his elves on tables, poinsettia’s in the decorative vases dotting the halls

A massive fresh cut Christmas tree hang up in the main living room, the fireplace lit nearby with stockings hung up on the mantelpiece

Each giant sock individualized in different colours and hand stitched with the occupants names

Bruce’s is midnight black, Dick’s is a light blue, Jason’s a traditional bright red, Tim’s a pretty Maroon , Damien’s a forest green, etc

Yours how hangs there as well, your favourite colour in velvet and your name etched in pretty cursive in sparkly thread

The scent of fresh baked cookies and gingerbread wafting from the kitchen whilst pine and cinnamon linger elsewhere

Eventually you’ll even help Alfred in decorating your room to watch with the Christmas decorations of the entire manor

Helping him hang crystal snowflakes that create rainbow infractions from sunlight streaming in from your window, little reindeer figures being added to your bedside

Maybe even a Christmas hat placed atop one of your plushies

Alfred, according to the rest of the manor residents goes ham for all holidays

Christmas, Halloween, Easter, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, you name it and he has an entire garages worth of decorations neatly stored away in boxes that he’ll somehow unpack overnight and have half the manor done within 5 hours

A feat truly unprecedented consider this place was a maze of hallways with at least 150 rooms that you’d counted so far

All of which were decorated in some sort of Christmas attire or theme

One was Santa themed, another Christmas tree themed, the one down the hall somewhere was frosty the snow man and a different one was filled with memorabilia from the old stop motion Rudolph films

Somehow them the British man was able to get his hands on some of the spare genuine figures used for that film (and the other ones from the sequels)

All of which now have a correlating Wayne manor resident

Alfred of course is Sam the snow man from that film, umbrella and bowler hat going all too well with him

Apparently when Jason was younger he begged for his to be Rudolph, a fact Bruce nor Dick ever let him live down

At some point during the first weeks of December the entire family gathers to decorate the tree

Quite honestly you thought you’d just hang out in your room while that happened since you had no idea what to really do

Your tiny “tree” didn’t have any traditional ornaments, only your figurines

But not even two minutes after the decorating supposedly started Damien basically kicked down your door with Jason and dragged you to join the tree decorating

Turns out no one can escape this fate

And they all refused to start without you, especially since this would “be your first year to witness the decoration war”

You quickly learn what that means when half the family is arguing on what colour scheme the tree should have

It’s basically an all out war while your sitting beside Damien who looks on

By the end of it all red and gold wins by a smidge

Mostly due to the fact Alfred got accidentally friendly fired by Dick and decided for everyone

You’d never seen Dick so afraid in your life, he looked ready to write his will in that moment

But once that’s finished the decorating actually starts

There’s no real strategy to how they do it

Tim tries to make a plan but it quickly falls through when the others began grabbing random bits and bobbles to hang on the tree

Red and gold balls of glass, old and delicate

Other ornaments of stuffed bears, cups of hot cocoa, a plate of cookies and more

You gravitate mostly towards these ones, the unique ornaments you’d used to see in store displays but could never afford

Ones you’d wish to have but could never hold

The others seem to catch on to this quickly, since they basically give you the box holding them all and hoisting you up to decorate the high points of the tree you couldn’t reach

This almost becomes an argument too when Dick complains that Jason is hogging you

Damien steps in immediately after literally swooping down from nowhere with a grappling hook to take you and bring you to the other side of the tree

All the while stating that once more he’s your favourite sibling

You can’t say he’s wrong when he objectively isn’t

Along with the fact he looks so genuinely happy over the fact

Once the tree is finished all that’s left is the topper

The crowning moment of the tree

With how everyone is looking to you your not surprised when Alfred hands you the crowning piece

They had several out while debating the Christmas tree and one stood out to you

It wasn’t the traditional star, it was a pretty angel

With white feathered wings and flowing brown hair atop a red velvet dress lined in gold

She just stood out to you from the bunch, of course this house full of detectives would notice you gazing at her for 20 minutes admiring the detail

Bruce is the one who lifts you up to place the angel

The only one so far who’d yet to help you reach the top

His hold gentle and stable

Smiling up at you urging you that it’s all alright

That you get to place the most important piece

You can’t help but feel a bit hesitant with all the attention on you on such an important moment

You’d never done something this before

Not for real anyways

You didn’t think topping your dinky tree with the only good figure you had could count

But now your crowning a real Christmas tree

With your family, all of whom look up at you cheering you on

It feels so overwhelmingly nice and cozy

You’d never thought you’d feel this during the season you’d dread

But here you are, lifted to reach atop a giant tree and placing an angel atop it all to look after you all until winter goes

Like the angel you feel the responsibility to drive out all evil forces to protect those in this mansion

The family who cheer loudly when you place her at the top and practically tackle you in a hug when your put back down on the wooden floor

As everyone celebrates you can’t help but look atop the tree

The angel looking down at you whilst Rigel slumbers atop your shoulder

Only being brought back when his nose nudges your cheek, turning your attention to your group of rowdy brothers who beckon you for yet another Christmas activity

Christmas baking

Once upon a time ago many years back you were able to afford a gingerbread house

It was after a few weeks of scrounging for money in wherever you could find it

Spare quarters and loose pennies making up the total of 15 dollars you’d decided to splurge on the cookie house

It didn’t end up looking good but didn’t mind at all, not when you’d feasted on the spare gumdrops that were hard and sour

Or the too sweet icing in a small plastic packet

On Christmas Day you’d eaten the house itself as your gift that year

Dividing it into small pieces to save for later as your future meals and snacks for patrols

Along with sectioning out some for Rigel who insisted you take care of yourself before them

This year though at Wayne manor baking Christmas goods is much less of a luxury and more a constant during the Christmas season

Alfred, you’ve quickly come to learn even before being adopted, was a baking god

That man could bake things you’d think would be served up to the gods on an alter

From his mouth watering cookies to his baked Alaska that nearly made you cry

His skills were no match

And during Christmas he apparently went crazy with baking

Chocolate chip Cookies galore, gingerbread made by hand, candycanes someone made by hand despite the long procedural process of kneading the sugar, sugar cookies with hand made icing that he piped into snowflakes and mini versions of the batfamily

The work he did was no joke

As was his “no one baking but me” policy after everyone else in the family somehow almost set the kitchen on fire

Yeah everyone else in the family was banned after trying to help him one year

Wayne manor nearly burnt down and now only your allowed there with him

Though you guessed that may have also been because he wanted to spend time with you

Something you can’t fault him for since you also like spending time with him as well

Since your new to baking Alfred is a guiding gentle hand

He shows you how to measure out ingredients correctly

Kneed the dough just enough

Pipe icing on cookies

Even let’s you nibble on the spare cookie dough and chocolate chips

Something he makes you keep a secret lest the others in the house get jealous

Throughout all the baking Alfred talks with you about all types of things

He asks you about your Christmases before this

Talks about being in MI6 and raising Bruce

Quietly probes you for Christmas gifts you’d like

Let’s Rigel perch around his shoulders and around his neck like a scarf

It’s all heartwarming and cozy

Especially as he seems so genuinely happy that this year you get to experience a proper Christmas

Not alone in a dingy apartment

But instead surrounded by friends and family

He seems all too proud when your both done with baking and made delectable sweet treats

He seems even more proud when the extra you made end up in containers that you say you’ll hand out to some friends

Thankfully he doesn’t ask when later that night you go out on patrol with a little basket and Christmas cards

He just tells you that if needed he’ll make more

It seems even villains can’t resist his cooking

Especially not with how Croc gobbles down the entire container or how Harley begs for the recipe

Riddler not one for chocolate chip cookies but enjoys the ginger snaps and shortbread cookies you bring instead

Mr.Freeze who quietly thanks you for the sugar cookies made to look like nutcrackers and ballerinas, something he said to you once before that Nora loved during the season

Two face and Harvey seem nostalgic, it makes sense considering Harvey’s friendship with Bruce

He’s been over at Christmas before his decent

When he asks how you have the recipe you just say that an old man asked you to deliver them to him

For the first time in the season you see him melt ever so slightly

He doesn’t need to say thank you, not with how he pats your head and tells you to stay warm

When you go off he hands you one of the cookies

Something you can’t help but smile gleefully at

Later that night you make sure to make extra for the next delivery along with little gingerbread men

All of which are decorated to look like the receivers of the delivery

Ice skating

You’d never learned to skate mostly because you could never afford skates

Public rinks were open during the winter in certain part of Gotham, typically the nicer areas though near crime alley you’d seen a few smaller opens opened up for kids

Though you’d never had the time to go to one

Sure, you could glide across the ice without the needed equipment but it wouldn’t be as fun. And sure, you could technically use your transformation powers to make yourself a pair of skates

But that would be a waste of your limited powers for something so trivial

And it was a skill not typically needed, it’s not like you were fighting Mr freeze on a month to month basis

So you bite your tongue and would continue on when seeing a rink on your way back to your old apartment

Eyes lingering on the families teaching their young ones to skate

To the pretty ice skater dancing as if she were a ballerina

To the group of friends off to the side enjoying a cup of hot cocoa from a small stand nearby

Still too overpriced for you to afford nor enjoy without risk of not affording rent let alone heating

The minute Dick learned this he was already off taking you to a sports supply store and having you try more skates than you’d known existed

From more heavy duty to sleek and petite

He has you try them on

Finding whichever was more comfortable to your feet before you finally settled on a pair

But even after that the shopping wasn’t done

He bought pretty ribbons to replace the laces, skate guards and blade covers

And then off you were suddenly at a rink with him guiding you along the ice

Quite honestly the spectacle of people watching the two of you and awing at the scene is a tad bit embarrassing

But Dicks genuine enthusiasm makes up for it

Though it doesn’t make up for the fact that you’ll be seeing his ass picks later on

Because god, why does he have to give them more fuel to the fire

You’d tried multiple times to get him to stop bending down and hunching over

But he seems to occupied in teaching you to notice the rabid clicks of pictures being taken behind him

Once you get a slow hand of it he takes your gloved hand and lets you take the reigns

Letting you chart the course across the ice

Past equally happy families that have the same smile that he does

Pride gleaming in it like a unyielding fire

Apparently back when he was apart of the circus he sucked at skating he admits

He could do acrobats 20 feet in the air just fine but had two left feet when it came to the ice

His parents never got frustrated though, neither did Bruce

But they one day said that he’d get it if he put his heart into trying again and again each winter

And that he’d be good enough to one day teach someone else as well

He remarks with a smile that it seems they were right

He says this all the while he stared into the overpriced hot chocolate with whip cream

Little green and red sprinkles in his as well as your own cup

Silently you smile and take his hand to go out on the ice once more when he’s finished his drink

You think that Mr and Mrs Grayson would be proud of him

Though you don’t need to say that aloud when his smile says it all

(Unfortunately you we’re right about the ass shots flooding your feed, though it was also mixed with people gushing over how adorable the scene was and how cute you are. You don’t open social media for the next couple of days for various reasons, your bashful expression is poked at by Damien who says he can hunt down the users if you’d like)

Gift shopping

Buying gifts for others was yet another luxury you couldn’t typically afford

So you used to scavenge for things

The heater for croc is a good example

As are the pots you then hand painted for Ivy and Harley

This year though it’s a bit overwhelming as Bruce takes you shopping for gifts

Store after store

His obsidian credit card that he pulled out for nearly everything you so much as dare to look at for over 5 seconds

The guilt that he’s spending his money for you

So far you’d picked out good gifts for everyone else

Even going as far to get some for Titus, your….non law-abiding citizen friends and some for the justice league

But you were still unused to it all without looking at the price tag

Something Bruce all but basically banned you to do and just said to put anything in the cart

And by Anthony he meant anything

You were staring too long at the car displayed in the mall and he nearly took you to a car dealership to buy you one

And then went on about customizing it for your or that persons taste

You sure anyone would like Ferrari but your not quite sure how you’d explain buying one to the receiver

Throughout it all Bruce looks more content than you’d thought he’d be when your spending his money

Sure, he’s a billionaire but typically they like to save and horde money, not freely spend it n frivolous things like this

But it seems Bruce had been the outlier

Maybe he’s always been

You’d gotten to Gotham academy because of his scholarship programs before he knew your existence

Certain parts of Gotham were in better state due to the Wayne corporations work and job listings

The Martha and Thomas Wayne fundraiser each year raised millions in charity

It’s still all so weird

But you have a small moment of clarity when entering a small anime store

Bruce chats up the worker at the counter, pulling out his Brucie persona

And he lets you reign free to buy stuff

You browse the figures, even finding a few you’d like for yourself that your almost 100% sure he’s gonna ask the owner to hold and have Alfred pick up later

But then you get to the dvds section

And in the bottom shelf you find old VHS’s

Your finger grazes across their spines alphabetically

And then it stops on a pretty pink one

It’s old and slightly faded

But you know this one by heart

This was one of your old sailor moon’s VHS’s, the one that you played so much that it eventually stopped working

The box was the only thing left of the thing, there was no use in keeping a messed of tape

So you had to sadly throw it out

The memories flood back of that tape

The episodes you know by heart

The line delivery (a male voice mocks it and brings you to tears)

The cheesy voice acting (something a female voice complained about)

The night spent alone watching it before Rigel came along (the sense of feeling of overwhelming loneliness waiting for someone to come back)

Huh? Your reminded of something?

Your parents, you forgot you even had those at one point

The cold seeps through an broken window past the flimsy sheer curtains

You hear them moving stuff, muttering to themselves quietly as you sit in front of the old box tv

Their voices muffled and static, grating your eardrums in fuzziness

You hum along to moonlight densetsu as sailor moon appears on screen

When she strikes her pose you do so as well, mirroring the action with your pudgy hands

A thump alerts you away from the screen

Two blurred figures, your parents stand by the door

Bags beside them filled to the brim

“We’re going to get groceries, you now how to use the stove” to your 5 year old mind this was normal

You didn’t know someone your age shouldn’t be left alone for hours on end

Shouldn’t be able to use the stove

Shouldn’t look to the tv as your only friend and mentor in keeping you alive

It was sailor moon who taught you to show kindness to others

Mew mew showed you to protect your home

Sakura told you to love others no matter their appearance or gender

Utena proved girls could fight and be just as strong as men

It was Honoka and Nagisa from pretty cure who taught you courage

It was never your parents, it was the reruns and old VHS’s you watched until they couldn’t play anymore and you knew the episodes by heart

You remember those shows so clearly, each episode and line delivery

And yet you couldn’t remember your mom or dad besides the one memory

They were so insignificant in the few years of your life they’d been in

And it’s that night watching sailor moon they left you

Abandoned you in a ratty apartment that they were gonna be kicked out of for not paying their bills

Left you to watch your only good facet in your life

Magical girls

Except now you imagine the memory differently

Your watching your sailor moon but there’s no shuffling in the background

Not the sound of them preparing to leave

Just silence before you feel a presence beside you

Turning your head you see Bruce, sitting beside you

Though now instead of kneeling on the floor your in the private theatre in a comfortable leather chair

The night he surprised you with getting your favourite series to play in it

And even if he didn’t understand the plot or what was going on he watched with a smile

He watched beside you, not once leaving your side

You pick up the old vhs with a nostalgic smile, thumb trailing down the back to read the episode list

The ones you remember by heart

Like by line

You put it back knowing somehow it would end up in your stocking this year

You wonder if the rest of the family would enjoy watching as well even without any context to the show

playing in snow

You used to hate the snow, and ice and all things cold except for Mr freeze and the cheap Dairy Queen Sunday’s you bought in the summer to cool down

But besides that you couldn’t stand it

You could play in the snow without risk of getting sick

Your winter boots already holes and your mitts were falling apart as it was

If you made snow angels or made snowballs you’d be left wet and cold

And there was nothing at the apartment to really dry you

Unless you wanted to waste Rigels magic to do so

And that wasn’t an option when every night you were breaking a rib or snapping your arm again

It seemed during Christmas as well Shadowmites got worse

For the season of giving and love there sure was a lot of hated that they feed off of

And unfortunately you were at the brunt end of it all

They gifted you broken bones and bloody scratches

So if others considered you a Scrooge for not liking the season you had every reason as to why

Not to mention by the end of your fights you were freezing and drenched

An even worse combination when bleeding and stumbling on a broken foot

Ba humbug

So when Jason takes you to go tobogganing your less amused than an average kid should be

To be fair your not exactly and “average kid” with the whole magical girl powers and all

But still, he had expected a bit more enthusiasm and less confusion

Safe to say Jason is a bit like Dick realizing you never learned to skate

Though unlike Dick, Jason can acclimate as to why

Growing up in crime alley was a lot like your own childhood

But back then he had friends, other kids to play with in the snow

He knew what fun it could bring because of that but you didn’t

And he decides to try and fix that

So throwing you your snow boots and zipping up his coat he all but almost drags you out the manor

A sled in hand while Rigel curls up around you like a scarf

His boots thumping through the snow creating satisfying crunches

Wayne manor’s grounds were huge, and unknown to you was that it also had a hill

Like a proper hill hidden behind dead shrubbery and snow covered trees

Something Jason shows off with a proud smile

He sets up the sled as you admire the view

It looks more like something from one of those old 2 million dollar paintings kept in a private collection away from the public

You see Gotham dusted in snow, refracting light creating a diamond-like sheen across the city

Snow falling around framing the entire world

It’s pretty in a way you handy really seen before now took a moment to enjoy

“Hey! Hop on”

Turning around you see Jason on the sled patting the spot in front of him

With a small nod you slid into the spot, settled comfortably between his legs as he wretched his arms past you to grab the reigns

“Ready?”

His eyes shine and you see the faintest tinge of green mixed in blue

You nod grabbing the reigns as well

He smiles and scoots the sleigh to the edge

Letting gravity do the rest

The sleigh starts its descent down the hill, gliding across the snow picking up speed

It’s a bit bumpy

A bit scary

But you hear Jason yell in excitement and your voice joins his in symphony

Before crashing down to the bottom and falling off the sled into the snow nearby with a audible thump

Almost immediately your older brother searches but finds you laying face up in the snow with a smile

A laugh tumbling out your mouth all the while Rigel chitters in a similar manner

Jason flops down beside you

From the hill when you go back down again you see both his and your snow angels side by side

Gift wrapping

You couldn’t wrap for shit, that is something you knew very well when one year you tried

Keyword tried

To wrap up a present for Rigel with scraps of wrapping paper you found in a garbage somewhere

It looked more like a Picasso painting of a wrapped present than a present itself

But unlike wrapping presents you could tie bows

Something Tim couldn’t do

You’d seen him try for 30 minutes and it looked….well it looked bad

It looked like a snake strangled itself to death

Or a noose trying to hang itself

Plane and simple its atrocious

But combining your skills together you both are actually competent

So the two of you decided to team up to create the wrapping league

Even if said league was more like a duo than anything

And was less about end of the world scenarios and moreso just about competently wrapping gifts

But to be honest it’s just fun hanging out with Tim

He’s just someone who knows just about everything due to unlimited internet access

Which could be for better or the worst

But that’s either which way

Tim knows all the shows you talk about no matter how obscure

Apparently when Bruce was researching you Tim had convinced him watching all seasons of sailor moon was for research purposes

As was watching nearly half of all the pretty cure series

And madoka magica

And mew mew

And- you get the point

How he did this? Being delirious to the point Bruce just agreed to anything he wanted so long as he promised to sleep for a good 12 hours

And so for a week straight the home Wayne theatre was his for the taking

For “research” though to anyone who looked in it was mostly definitely for his own viewing

But because of that no matter what show you mention he has watched it

There’s no awkward explaining of the plot

Nor the fact midway through you’d typically stop since most by then would just awkwardly laugh and say they’ll check it out which was code word for “haha no that show sounds weird as shit and I won’t touch it with a 20 foot stick and your weird too stop talking already”

Tim has seen it already and passionately talk to you about it for half an hour straight with no breaks between either of you

Tim is unabashed in his interests

Whether that be 16th century poetry or the most obscure damn show on the internet he picked up for funsies

Tim can and will talk about anything

Andrew with passion too

There’s no awkwardness when you speak to him

It’s just a genuine conversation and interaction

He talks about his favourite episode and characters

His most hated

Favourite scenes or fights

Fan Theories and his own

It feels validating

Because you know he isn’t judging you

He’s just genuine

That’s a lot more than any present you wrap

Your not sure if he knows that though

By the time either of you have wrapped the presents neither of you know that partway in Alfred began to secretly wrap to give you both more time to talk

Opening presents

Christmas morning used to be a morning of quiet

You’d wake up with Rigel and make yourself a small meal and enjoy the day mostly relaxing or preparing for the night when you’d inevitably go out to kill Shadowmites

This years Christmas morning is very different though

Your awoken at 8 on the dot in the morning by Damien who’s standing at your bedside in what looked to be a hand knit sweater

Before you have time to wake up (especially since last night was long as hell) you have a similar sweater shoved in your face

It’s your favourite colour much like the stocking Alfred hand made

So it’s safe to assume he somehow had the time to knit this as well

The shimmery white yarn creating intricate patterns of snowflakes and bunnies frolicking in the snow

Still clad in pyjamas and throwing on the sweater Damien all but drags you from your room and through the long hallways

Feet only clad in socks slapping against the wooden floor

Exhaustion slowly leaving you when your handed a cup of hot chocolate by Alfred

And seeing the absolute mountain of presents stacked under the tree

It’s an mind blowing amount (at least to you)

A sea of patterned paper and bows gleaming under the chandelier light

Stockings stuffed to the brink above a already lit fire

Alfred waiting expectantly on a cushioned chair, old eyes lighting up when seeing the sweater your wearing

By now the others slowly start to trickle in

Bruce looking equally as tired as you in a silk robe topped off with a Christmas hat with a fake beard

Jason not too far behind pushing Dick and Tim out the way

Dick and Tim nearly eating shit on the carpeting because of Jason

Everyone wearing similar sweaters

During the ordeal of opening presents you hand out the ones you’d bought for everyone

A certain sense of satisfaction and nervousness flooding you as you watch their reactions

You’d gotten them many gifts for each but there was one main gift for each you’d spent some time finding (or in one case working on)

Somehow you’d gotten a first edition copy of Moby dick for Jason which resulted in your being thrown in the air and given a back breaking hug

For Dick you scrounged up old “flying Graysons” circus posters at a few vintage stores, somehow you’d gotten another reaction like Jason

In which you nearly ended up air-bound if not for Damien

Speaking of which, for Damien you called in a favour from Klarion for a duel gift to get a rare sapphire encrusted sword Al apparently lost a millennia ago

Apparently it was in some desert beneath 300 feet of sand

Tim got a vintage camera he’d been eyeing for a long time but hadn’t been able to find

For Bruce instead of buying him something you opted to make him something instead

Compared to some of the other gifts it’s simple but you made him a scrapbook with the help of Alfred

It complied everything from his adoption of Dick to you

Every page was themed and included things like dried flowers to old tickets and stickers according to theming

It’s a behemoth of a book

Practically took up 3 months of work when not busy with school or patrols or when Bruce wasn’t around

But it ends up being perhaps the most heartfelt gift of them all

Bruce hugs you?

It’s a weird thing, especially when you swear you almost see him cry

He holds you close to his heart

Alfred insisted you didn’t get him anything but you end up with a similarly handmade gift in the form of recipes written on parchment and bound together in a beautiful ribbon

When asked you simply say you got it from a friend, specifically Mrs.C

And then it comes time for your own presents

And it’s a bit overwhelming

So many boxes wrapped in elegant paper addressed to you

All tied together with pretty bows and streamers

Box after box is handed to you as Damien sits by your side

You’d haven’t even opened any yet and everyone is fighting amongst one another on who’s you should open first

When all of a sudden Damien reveals you’d already opened one

Much to everyone and your own confusion

Except for Alfred who smiles alongside the Al Ghul

Damien points to your sweater

And it sets in for everyone

Turns out he made the Christmas sweater

Not Alfred

When the butler was beginning work on yours Damien insisted he wanted to make it for you

So Alfred obliged and taught him how to knit through the past couple months and make the design

It explains the bunny’s on the sweater

Alongside why he one day came to you holding up several shades of yarn and asked which was your favourite before scurrying off somewhere

After that more presents are opened

Damien smirking and glaring with pride as Tim, Jason and Dick hand you more presents

Unsurprisingly a lot of it is magical girl based merchandise

Though it’s also mixed with a plethora of things like clothes, plushes, books and even some jewelry

From under the tree you even get gifts from a few justice league members

And you some from a few villains as well that Bruce explained stopped him last night and demanded be given to you since you were off duty this Christmas

Though by how you keep repeat rubbing your eyes it seems less like it

“You alright there?” Dick asks as he hands you another present from under the tree, another figurine to add to your growing collection

“Yeah, I’m really tired from last night” you explain rubbing the back of your neck making the rest of the family look at you in confusion

Jason speaks up first, “but you weren’t on patrol last night? We all told you to take Christmas off”

“I wasn’t on patrol…or at least a traditional one” you explain pulling up your phone, it was still weird getting used to this stupid thing. Too many apps and buttons for your taste.

“What exactly does that mean sister?” Damien prodded as you pulled up a picture on your phone.

Holding your phone up the rest of the family goes silent, there in picture form is you in a magical angel ensemble with a halo wings and all but it’s where you are that’s the most interesting. In the background of the picture is a bunch of reindeer attached to the vehicle you were in, the further most deer emanating a red light from its nose that helps light the way through the snow raining down from the heavens as the rest navigate overtop Paris and the Eiffel Tower.

The silence is broken when everyone but an unsurprised Alfred at the top of their lungs begin demanding answers to an obvious question.

????

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the enormous house not a peep was spoken not even a mouse

The family was out all but you, a little girl tucked asleep in her room

But by the stroke of midnight something a tap tap tap rattled you from your sleep

And by your window there stood a man on his sleigh

20 feet up in the air because your room was on the second story floor

A jolly man in red, the one and only Santa Claus tapped at your window and-

Yeah…enough with the rhyming stuff this is getting difficult

So yeah, last night imagine your surprise when you woke up to find Santa tapping on the glass of your window

The jolly iconic man in white and red waving you over to open it

When Santa entered through the window he sat down and asked for you help

Apparently the shadowmites were something even he couldn’t exactly deal with

And when he’s dealing with delivering presents it’s not exactly nice being knawed on by shadow creatures

So he implored your help to make sure Christmas went smoothly this year

And how could you say not to an offer like that

So transforming into your magical outfit you decided what you’d do for your theme

And picked an angel, specifically a snow angel based on the snow angels you’d made with Jason and the angel atop the Christmas tree

Because you’d be looking over everyone just as she did

And so you hopped on Santa’s sleigh and got to work with him delivering presents

Quite honestly delivering presents with St.Nick is quite a fun job

He’s warm and friendly, answering your questions and laughing with glee when explaining stories to you

The reindeer are equally friendly

On the occasionally breaks taken for cookies and milk you get to pet them

Rudolph affectionately booping his nose against your own or Cupid having you readjust her bows attacked to her antlers

A feat according to Santa was something few were allowed to do

And Rigel who sat in Santa’s shoulder

The two talking like old friends

Which implied that Santa was some sort of godly being like him

Which…honestly tracks of your honest

How else would he be able to do this in a single night?

Let alone the fact he had a magical bag containing all his gifts and letters

Along with a list that magically tells him if someone was good or bad within the span of a year

So yeah, safe to assume he’s some sort of god

Maybe like Alfred

Off into the night sky you go, taking a seat beside the gift giving man as he handed you his list to read aloud

A check mark beside a name signifying if they were good and a X for if they were bad

Most names you didn’t recognize as you expected

But a few make you pause

And makes you pull out from the magical bag beside you the gifts you’d been holding for said somebodies

Apparently the sack contained Santa’s gifts and the gifts of anyone during Christmas

Yours included

And Santa just laughs in joy when you ask if you could deliver your own presents as well

John Constantine nearly choked on his cigarette when you appeared at the house of mystery with Santa in tow

The living house shifting around the two of you as you climbed down the chimney with your gift in hand

He can only take it wordlessly before you and Santa climb back out like nothing happened, the house of mystery even creating bricks for proper footing on the way out

For the house you also leave a gift in the form of a pretty wreath for the door

A shudder waves back and forth as you both fly away

Klarion in his own personal realm before you and Santa came crashing in politely with a knock on an inter dimensional door

Because of you this year he somehow worked his way onto the good list

The bottom if the good list but still on it regardless

And thus got more than a chunk of coal for his efforts from Santa

Plus your gift to him of the limited edition 2016 discord and fluttershy figure

Later on in the night when you both fly past Clark he does a double take and seems like if he was Wondering if he was hallucinating

In Atlantis you leave a gift for Arthur under a Christmas tree shaped out of coral

Though themyscira doesn’t exactly celebrate you and Santa do leave a gift for Diana and some of the Amazonians

In Gotham beneath a small Charlie Brown Christmas tree you leave to Waylon a new heater plus Santa’s gift of a heated blanket

You leave something for Harley and Ivy plus some new toys for bud and Lou beneath their freshly grown Christmas tree

Santa even takes you off the planet to do a tradition of his that he did ever year

Aka giving coal to some guy called darkseid

He sounded vaguely familiar but besides Gotham villains you didn’t pay attention beyond that

Apparently he’s at the top of the bad list each year

You wait on the sleigh for when he delivers the coal

But watch as laser beams try to shoot you both down as Santa laughs at whoever shoots them

Even when the beams twist and turn and try to keep up before eventually stopping

But it’s eventually through most of the night that you realize something

There were barely any Shadowmites at all

At least not enough for Santa to be worried about and employ your help with

So it brings up the question, why were you brought on to help this year

And it’s a question the old man answers quite easily as you both sail through to the North Pole for a small pit stop

“Well young lady I thought I’d give you a bit more of different type of gift this year” the jolly old man explains rubbing his long white beard tangled with a few candycanes and cookie crumbs. His grin is unrivaled as is his moustache that’s curled like an old cartoon character, giving him a fun air of whimsy.

“What do you mean?” You end up asking, looking to him in confusion

He smiles, digging out his magic bag some letters that he hands to you. Each are from a different sender but almost all from Gotham, or surrounding area’s. When you read them you begin to understand. Each are addressed to Santa from numerous different people, some are kids, some adults, but all ask for one thing this Christmas, and it’s that you have an amazing Christmas this year. In each letter they detail how you saved them or helped them in some capacity, and that this year instead of a gift for themselves they wanted to give you something.

But that isn’t all, more letters begin to pour out the bag as the sleigh glides atop the Aurora borealis. More and more letters than you could count on your own, all detailing that they wanted you to have a merry Christmas. they fly past but you hear their contents as they fall into the green glow of the aurora which after a moment create phantom memories of the writers form, shimmery wistful versions of them made of greens and purples reading out their letters.

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice that every year you worked hard on Christmas just as I did” the old man tuts, patting your head before going back to guiding his reindeer “though the difference between you and me was Christmas spirit. Though, I can’t blame you for not having it considering circumstance. But year after year of those letters asking for you to have a good Christmas as their gift, and there wasn’t much I could give to do that. So what better to do than give you something a bit different instead? An experience can still be a gift can it not? Especially when it gives you the Christmas spirit you long missed out on”

What he says makes you pause, year after year implies that ever since you began being a magical girl he’d gotten letters asking for this one Christmas wish. And it was yearly that others asked for you to be happy during this holiday, you of all people.

You’d never really understood Christmas until that moment, and it hits you all at once

When you dry your tears into the soft red velvet of Santa’s coat he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you close saying that “you of all people on my list deserves a very merry Christmas ever year my dear”

“And that’s how I ended up exchanging recipes with Mrs claus and ended playing black jack with krampus” you explain showing more photos to your increasingly mortified family

“Well…I….you know what I don’t really know what to say to this” Bruce mutters completely stumped as the others don’t look like their faring any better

If they thought this was weird your not sure how your gonna explain meeting the personification of dreams named Morpheus and also befriending him

But maybe that was a bombshell for another time

[gallusrostromegalus]

Do you have any plans for what happens with Urahara's shop once Aizen is dealt with? I mostly ask cus the other day I binged the AIEWAM tag, then had a dream about the Shinigami using it as a base of operations in Karakura. I don't know if that is likely, or plausible, but it was fun to picture random shinigami doing customer service.

No that's more or less what happens to it!

After Aizen is dealt with, Urahara is facing some pretty significant personal problems: his rejection by the 12th division, being pregnant with his first child (and Yoruichi's nervous breakdown of impending parenthood) and Nihofornia's National Tax Agency finally catching up to him. As a shinigami, Urahara is aware of the many ways to shimmy around death, but there is no certainty like Taxes.

It's Don Kanonji, the most reasonable and level-headed adult in the whole damn fic, who proposes the solution: between his careers of swimsuit model, UN Translator, exorcist and fashion designer, Don is also a Certified Accountant. After going over she shoebox full of miscellaneous receipts and assorted Papers That Might Be Important, Don negotiates a deal with the tax agency around Kisuke's dubious status as a citizen and even more dubious bookkeeping: kisuke will sell the business to someone with a real social security number and pay up a large percentage of the staggering amount of money he owes in exchange for being allowed to rent the building from the new owners and continue his path to legitimate citizenship and no further financial chicanery.

"Okay, but who's going to pony up the cash? I don't have that kind of money!" Kisuke wails, fully in the grip of second-trimester hormone swings.

"Urahara-san. Kisuke. Sandalhat. Buddy. Pal." Ichigo's classmate Keigo sighs, fondly patting the man on the shoulders as he sat down on the couch beside Urahara. "We're friends, right?"

"We're people who know each other's home addresses." Kisuke sniffles.

"Close enough!" Mizuiro waves, sitting down on Urahara's other side. "-and you're former second division, real cloak-and-dagger stuff. So you know that sometimes it's best to not ask so many questions, right?"

Kisuke frowned with growing suspicion. "I might have been..."

"Great! All you need to do is make Tessai clean out the garage, turn the paperwork over to me and Mizuiro, keep an ear on the line to soul society, and focus on getting this place ready for your little bundle of joy-" Keigo smiled, gesturing around the decidedly bachelor padded living room.

"-and don't worry about where this came from!" Mizuiro chirped happily, hefting a large briefcase onto the table with a loud thud that popped open the lid, revealing a frankly alarming amount of cash inside.

"I'm worrying." Kisuke grimaced.

"We very specifically requested the opposite of that." Keigo pouted.

"That's at least thirty grand in there." Don remarked with a casual glance at the carefully packed but decidedly used bills inside.

"There is Thirty-one thousand, two hundred seventy-eight point oh-six Troyen, which is exactly two and a half times this shop's discretionary income last year, and a very generous price for the business!" Mizuiro beamed.

"Why can't you guys use a normal currency like Kan?" Kisuke pouted, trying to do conversion rates in his head.

"Well for one thing, fiat currency is a hell of a lot better than anything based on the value of rice." Keigo nodded. "Though it is kinda stupid that we didn't update the name after we went off the gold standard during world war three."

"There was a third world war?" Kisuke yelped.

"A cold one, back in the eighties. You didn't notice were busy making sure Isshin and Masaki Kurosaki didn't implode." Tessai called from the kitchen.

"Oh." Urahra mumbled.

"Look, it's really quite simple- you'll go on basically as you have been with the candy shop-" Mizuiro smiled with the soothing demeanor of an unexpected adder. "-only I'll be your landlord and Keigo will be your manager!"

Urahra stared blankly at the boys, then looked up at Don Kanonji, who was reading over the contents of the file folder Mizuiro had handed him when the boys came in. "...That can't possibly be legal, right?"

"Hm?" Don hummed, looking up over his glasses. "Oh, yes. The government would really prefer a check but cash is perfectly legal tender to settle all debts with."

"But they're kids!" Kisuke gestured hysterically between them.

"Okay, Mizuiro might be babyfaced but he turned eighteen last spring and I'll be an adult by the time we turn in all this paperwork in April." Keigo groaned.

"And- and this is clearly Mob Money!" Urahara continued, waving at the briefcase of cash.

"Mister Urahara! I would NEVER-!" Mizuiro gasped with great offense. "I'll have you know all this money came from Perfectly Legitimate Enterprises!" He sniffed, arms crossed and lip pouting.

"That's the name of the Mobile Tech Support business Mizu and I have been running since freshman year!" Keigo beamed. "Makes a good packet, you wouldn't believe the kind of tips the old biddies will give a Nice Young Man in a Smart Uniform who scrapes malware off her online mahjong machine!"

Urahara stared at them blankly, gaze slowly tipping down to the briefcase full of money. "I should learn how to use living world computers."

"NO." Every single person in the building, including the shop kids and Ichigo, who had been passed out under the table after training, but was stirred to consciousness by an impending sense of danger before passing out again.

"Killjoys." Urahra muttered, sulking under his hat.

"Regardless, its a perfectly legal and honestly very generous offer for this heap, and as your financial advisor, I urge you to take it." Don Kanonji glared over his glasses at Urahara.

"So what, you boys get a cut of the candy money and rent? Cause that ain't much of a savvy deal on your end. This place runs at a debt."

"Oh no, you can keep the candy revenue and I'll only ask for enough rent to cover utilities." Mizuiro smiled. "What we want is a cut of your commission as a licensed Gotei-13 outlet contractor!"

"...But I'm not a contractor?" Urahara blinked.

"...Do you just. Not read things before you sign them?" Keigo glared.

"Yeah, you're not just in hock to the NTA, the Soul Revenue Service is after you too for running a fake Gotei-13 service center, and bailing on a century's worth of filings by faking your death." Mizuiro frowned at him with concern. "So e of those papers you signed when you resumed your identity and job as captain- however briefly were the result of Captain Kyoraku cutting you one HELL of a parole deal with the SRS, but the agreement was that Urahara Shoten would be the base of operations for ALL the shinigami operating in Karakura, under the direct supervision and control of the Gotei-13 and he sure wasn't stingy with the budget he gave you! Well. The budget he gave me and Keigo to spend since I'd be the property owner and Keigo would be the business owner."

"Aaaand since you also signed the soul society official secrets agreement, it's not like you can ask someone else to buy you out from the NTA, so not only are we your best offer, we're your ONLY offer!" Keigo grinned.

Urahra stared at them blankly. "You've set me up." He mumbled.

"You sent yourself up for this when you failed to do your due diligence when signing contracts." Don Kanonji corrected him, pulling some documents out of the folder and signing them, before pushing them across the table. "Please actually read these before you si- you've already signed them." Don Kanonji groaned as Urahara slapped the pen back down on the table with spite.

"Fine, fine- I guess I'm back to following orders instead of giving them. What do you want, Boss?" He glared at Keigo.

"Put your feet up and finish putting together that gift list for the baby shower." Keigo nodded. "We weren't kidding that your first priority is getting this place ready for baby... Does it have a name yet?"

"...No." Kisuke wilted despondently. "Yoruichi still isn't answering my texts!"

"Hm." Keigo nodded. "Okay, put your feet up, finish that baby shower list and think of a name for the little rugrat. Just leave the rest to us for now!"

"You guys are good kids." Kisuke smiled weakly.

"Would you be willing to make a sworn statement to that effect, so we can have it on file for any future HR disputes?" Mizuiro smiled.

"Absolutely goddamn not." Kisuke glared.

[starrygazers]

cross my heart (hope to die)

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ haiii :3 I only write like once a year but that won't stop me from yearning for these new characters. I love Amphoreus because I was a Greek myth nerd growing up and this new update tickles me in aaaall the right ways.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : angst, established relationship, mentions of character death

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : Mydei; minor spoilers for 3.0

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mydeimos, the Crown Prince, has no fears. He tossed away his humanity when he embraced immortality, the tool that he needed to trek on this god-slaying journey. There was no room for fear, not when he had to fight the Titan of Violence. A man such as this was not capable of human emotions; or so he thought.

"So," you hum in a sing-song tone, draping your arms around Mydei's shoulders. "When will you take me to that new restaurant in Marmoreal Market?"

Mydei huffs, but makes no effort to peel your touch off of him. He turns around to meet your eyes; you're so close to him. If it were any other person, they would have faced the wrath of the Undying Lion.

You detect no change in his expression, so you start pouting. "Mydei! You promised me you would."

Mydei shrugs. "Did I?"

You roll your eyes, finally letting go of him and sitting on the empty spot next to him. "Dying doesn't exempt you from the promises you make, you know?"

The Prince can't help but crack a smile at this; you're the only person that he can comfortably joke about his immortality with. With you, it doesn't seem like the big deal everyone makes it out to be. Not the heroic Chrysos Heir trait that Phainon envies him for, or the source of worry for Aglaea and Tribbie. It's just another part of him that you've accepted.

Because you accept all of him.

You cross your arms and look away from him, mumbling about how the restaurant's been open for a month and it's not new anymore so there won't be as many people and why do you always have to go on such long expeditions, but Mydei shushes you by taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

A whisper of apology.

"It's okay," you mumble, extending your pinky. "Just promise again, for this life."

"I'll make a thousand promises if that's what you want," he says, and it comes out rough, like he's doing it to get you off his back. But you know better, you know him better.

He raises his own pinky finger to entwine it with yours. "How does the saying go again?"

"You're so forgetful," you laugh, and it's the most melodious tune he knows.

"Cross my heart..."

Mydeimos knows that he must suffer a thousand deaths, and a thousand more. He's content with this destiny, because he knows he is not given the privilege to choose. He must lay down his god for the glory of what little humanity he has left within him. He will trade a thousand lives for peace, and he will enter a losing battle with only his faith in the infinite lives that he has.

Perhaps this is what made him forget how flimsy a life really is.

In his usual boredom, Phainon once riddled him. "How heavy do you think the world really is? Like, a thousand Dromas?"

Mydei's response, in typical fashion, was to huff and call Phainon's musings irrelevant. But now, he thinks he can answer that question.

The world is really light in his arms. The world is pale, cold, and losing a lot of blood.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you manage to say before your last breath. Your voice is hoarse, but Mydei would beg Oronyx to loop it forever because he still thinks your voice is his lullaby.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He promised to take you to that restaurant, and many more. He vowed to bring peace to this world to one day crown you as his queen.

Mydeimos knows that he must suffer a thousand deaths, and a thousand more. But this was worse than death. For you, he would trade it all; his status as Crown Prince, his pride as the Undying Lion, his immortality.

A thousand life for yours.

"... and hope to die."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©2025 starrygazers. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

if you liked this, consider buying me a ko-fi! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[david-talks-sw]

Dooku didn't leave because of the Jedi.

At least, if you're going by George Lucas' word.

In deleted scenes of Attack of the Clones, when we learn about Dooku's departure and his values, there's no mention of the Jedi or "the Jedi Order as an institution".

And every time Lucas refers to Dooku's disenchantment and reason for falling, he doesn't mention the Jedi.

"When you realize that Dooku is Darth Tyranus, it explains what Darth Sidious did after Darth Maul was killed: he seduced a Jedi who had become disenchanted with the Republic. He preyed on that disenchantment and converted him to the dark side, which is also a setup for what happens with Anakin." - Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Attack of the Clones, 2002

"[Dooku is] one of the few Jedi who became disenchanted with the Republic and left the order and he is leading a separatist movement." - Vanity Fair, 2002

"I wanted a more sophisticated kind of villain. Dooku’s disenchantment with the corruption in the Empire is actually valid. It’s all valid.  So, Chris plays it as, 'Is he really a villain or is he just someone who is disenchanted and trying to make things right?'" - Starlog Magazine #300, 2002

He probably meant the Republic/Senate in that last one, but you get the point. And you're seeing the pattern, right?

Dooku's problem isn't the Jedi, it's the Republic.

He's become disenchanted with a system that - according to Lucas' prologue in the 2004 book Shatterpoint - worked for 1,000 years...

"For a thousand years, the Old Republic prospered and grew under the wise rule of the Senate and the protection of the venerable Jedi Knights."

... but has been rendered ineffective because of 1) senators becoming corrupt and 2) corporations gaining political power.

"But as often happens when wealth and power grow beyond all reasonable proportion, an evil fueled by greed arose. The massive organs of commerce mushroomed in power, the Senate became corrupt, and an ambitious named Palpatine was voted Supreme Chancellor."

That's the message Dooku runs on, when he rallies the systems to form the Separatist Alliance.

"By promising an alternative to the corruption and greed that was rotting the Republic from within, Dooku was able to persuade thousands of star systems to secede from the Republic."

The Jedi aren't really a factor in his decision to leave.

Why would they be? Their political status isn't very high, they're virtually powerless, as illustrated by the film's narrative and stated repeatedly by Lucas.

On the contrary, as we already established in this post, Lucas full-on confirmed that Dooku actually carries the sympathies of most of the Jedi. Again:

Most Jedi agree with Dooku, ideologically.

As far as the Jedi are concerned, the politicians are effing up the Republic, and it sucks because the Jedi see this but aren't allowed to interfere in the political process. They have to resort to looking for loopholes in their mandates to actually get stuff done.

That's what that whole "she's a politician" scene is meant to hint at. In the commentary of Attack of the Clones, Lucas uses a similar turn of phrase as he does with Dooku.

"[This scene gives us] a chance to talk a little bit about politics and the Jedi’s disenchantment with the political process, due to the corruption and the ineffectiveness of the Senate." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

Considering all this, it becomes clear that the intended narrative surrounding Dooku's decision to leave the Order is not:

"The Jedi are dogmatic and asleep at the wheel except for Dooku, who is ahead of the curb and sees the system is flawed, so he left."

It's actually:

"ALL Jedi see the system is flawed, Dooku's the only Jedi who decided to take it a step further and leave the Order so he can try to get into politics himself and change things."

That's why they hesitate to accuse him of murder.

That's why in an earlier draft of the Attack of the Clones script, by the end of the second act, Mace STILL has his doubts that Dooku would sign a treaty with the Trade Federation to attack the Republic.

As far as the Jedi are concerned, Dooku is out there fighting the good fight, making noise because whenever they try to protest it falls on deaf ears... until his betrayal on Geonosis.

After all, let's not get it twisted: the Dooku we're introduced to in the films and The Clone Wars, isn't really just Dooku anymore.

He's Darth Tyranus.

A point Lucas makes sure to highlight in his Shatterpoint prologue:

"Unbeknownst to most of his followers, Dooku was himself a Dark Lord of the Sith, acting in collusion with his master, Darth Sidious, who, over the years, had struck an unholy alliance with the greater forces of commerce and their private droid armies."

It's not about doing the selfless thing for Dooku, anymore. He's knowingly part of the problem.

He's all about ambition, now. His personal goals are things like overthrowing Sidious and becoming the most powerful Jedi.

"[Anakin's] ambition and his dialogue here is the same as Dooku’s. He says “I will become more powerful than every Jedi.” And you’ll hear later on Dooku will say “I have become more powerful than any Jedi.” [...] It is possible for a Jedi to want to become more powerful, and control things." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

"If you put two Sith together, they try to get others to join them to get rid of the other Sith. [When revealing the truth to Obi-Wan], Dooku's ambition is really to get rid of Darth Sidious. He's trying to get Obi-Wan's assistance in that and help in that, so that he and Obi-Wan could overthrow Sidious and take over." - Attack of the Clones, Commentary Track 2, 2002

Y'know? Selfish things.

Dooku - like all other Sith, and like the very corporations and Senators he had sworn to destroy - is consumed by his own greed.

[theabysss]

Plush toy

pairing: sagau!Zhongli x Reader

summary: Zhongli performs his evening prayer, goes to bed and suddenly finds himself in your plush toy.

warnings: yandere, possessive & obsessive thoughts, religious + cult themes.

word count: 1.1k

note: Okay, I give up, I just can't stop writing at night. My body and inspiration are in cahoots to keep me from writing during the day. I ordered acrylic stands with Zhongli and Dottore, it remains to wait for them to arrive. Life is not so bad (looks askance at the last exam, it would be better without you)

Zhongli kneels and clasps his hands in prayer, as he has done so many times before. He was in his apartment on the harbor in a room dedicated to you, with a statue of you that he personally sculpted with his geo powers. Once at a time, he tried to capture your image in stone, and he considered this his attempt the most successful of all, even if it did not fully convey all your grace, mercy, power, beauty. But this is all he could be content with until the moment you go down to Teyvat physically.

On especially bad days, when his longing for you became especially strong, when he could no longer pretend that a life spent not in your radiance was meaningless, Zhongli stood in front of your statue for days, desperately praying. Praying for your return, not allowing himself to be interrupted for a second, whispering through cracked lips, when every word was a blade passing through a parched throat, he wanted to feel all your splendor, and not the pitiful crumbs that he felt next to the traveler.

His soul still found solace when you were around, even if your presence was ephemeral, but deep in his heart, Zhongli wanted to see your physical form. To be able to hear your voice, to see how emotions change on your face, to finally give all the gifts accumulated over the millennia. To dress you up in Liyue's best outfits made from the most expensive silk, feed you the most delicious meals, and be able to directly enjoy your divine presence, which always filled his heart with warmth. He desperately wanted it all, with all his draconic greed.

Zhongli finishes his daily evening prayer and, before leaving the room, takes one last look at your statue, full of longing and reverence. He performs evening routines, go to bed and slowly falls asleep, his last thought is about you. If he had a chance to see you even for a second, there's nothing he wouldn't do.

When Zhongli opens his eyes, his vision is very hazy and blurry, the body seems somehow cottony, completely motionless and small. He tries to blink and move, but he can't. When the vision finally becomes clear again, Zhongli's heart skips a beat and then begins to beat furiously. He sees you sitting at the table behind some strange luminous rectangle on which pictures move. Zhongli desperately tries to call you, but no sound escapes his lips. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. How could this happen? He just fell asleep, and now he was here next to you, though in some very strange state.

Everything becomes completely unimportant when Zhongli hears your laughter and notices your smile. You were beautiful, perfect, his wish came true, he was so close to you, directly watching you. For about fifteen more minutes, which seemed to him the most wonderful eternity in the world, Zhongli simply absorbed your emotions, your appearance, he was unable to get enough of you. You were his oasis in the middle of the desert to which he walked for five thousand years.

When the rectangle in front of you goes out, you get up from your seat and leave the room. He glares at you longingly, but now at least Zhongli has the opportunity to analyze the situation in which he finds himself. He collects his thoughts and tries to sort out his sensation and what he sees. A minute later, Zhongli comes to the conclusion that he was in a plush toy, out of the corner of his eye he can see others nearby. Well, it was strange, but he wasn't going to complain, rather, on the contrary, he was infinitely grateful for the opportunity to be near you, even so. It's true that you didn't seem to know about his presence, Zhongli wouldn't want to invade your life without permission, but it doesn't seem like he had a choice, he couldn't even close his eyes.

For the next half hour he hears a noise water and assumes that you are taking a bath. Zhongli can't help but look at the interior of your room, the colors in which it is decorated, the arrangement of furniture, trying to memorize as much as possible so that he can then reproduce the furnishings in Liyue later. All to increase the chances that you will like the place he created and want to stay.

Zhongli notices several photos, they show you with some people, joyful and smiling. Who were they? Other followers who have been given the great honor of being pictured with you in the same image? Or is it someone more important to you? The reason why you still have not descended to Teyvat fully, Zhongli feels jealousy and anger in his heart for those who dared to take your attention. But all negative thoughts fly out of his head when you return back to the room. You are wearing only a bathrobe and Zhongli definitely swallowed dryly if he could, your skin looks so soft, steamed, tender, the way it glistens in the lamplight, it makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. It seems to him that he is not worthy to see this picture, the beautiful work of art that you are now.

When you approach and take him in your arms, Zhongli feels a moment of panic. Did you know he was here? How could he justify himself? But you just take him and go to bed. When you turn off the light and lie down next to him, he holds his breath. You cover yourself with a blanket and pull the toy that he was now towards you and Zhongli's mind thrashes about. It was all so much like a dream, a wonderful false dream, too beautiful to be true. Before you fall asleep, you kiss him briefly and he melts like a mist flower corolla on a hot day. Zhongli hears how your breathing becomes calmer and more measured and just enjoys this sound, gradually he is lulled, although he is desperately trying not to fall asleep so as not to miss a moment with you, but he does not succeed.

Zhongli wakes up from the sun's rays hitting his face, and as soon as memories reach him, he immediately jumps up on the bed, staring into the void in prostration. Did he dream everything? But you were so alive, so real in his memories. The whole next day, Zhongli is extremely confused and Hu Tao sends him home early, and he doesn't even try to dissuade her. You completely occupy all his thoughts, and in his heart the hope burns that this was something more than a dream. And when he goes to bed after the evening prayer, Zhongli longs to see you again. Just one more time.

Dragons were known for their greed, so he would never get enough. Always one more time and never the last. After all, the more he had, the more he wanted.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[i2ycat]

two wrongs don’t make one right

pairing lee heeseung x fem!reader synopsis mistakes always happen, whether you mean to make them or not. but it’s not a question of ‘do you like heeseung?’ anymore, it’s more so: ‘why do you like heeseung?’. or in which, two wrongs just don’t make one right genre college!au, slight fluff, angst, established relationship word count 3k+ warnings cursing, crying, toxic relationship between heeseung and reader, implications of a professor x student relationship, heeseung is implied to have possibly cheated, reader cheats w sunghoon, everyone is of age, bitchy & manipulative characters, reader is insecure, small mention of smoking weed, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking it’s been 2 months since i last posted anything oh my…. erm! here’s a little fic before i disappear again lol <//3 i don’t condone anything that happens in this fic or any of their decisions!!!! main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

The weekend had rolled by faster than you could blink. One second, you’re rotting away in your room and the next, you’re hopping on one foot in front of your mirror, hastily getting ready for the day because you’re running 30 minutes late to your 10am coding class. You’re usually the type to wake up earlier than your alarm, but you were staying up way later than you usually would’ve the night before— staying up late to talk to your boyfriend of 7 months, Lee Heeseung.

Known to be the academy’s most influential guy, Lee Heeseung was, and still is, quite the character. Simply calling him influential would be a grave understatement though, because he descended from a family of powerful politicians and businessmen, even having the biggest corporation in all of South Korea— Lee Tech— as part of his familial pedigree.

It’s no secret that he has the entire world at his fingertips, and at any given moment, he could burn it if he wanted to.

But like how everything else in this world is unfair, Lee Heeseung wasn’t just disgustingly rich, he also inherited his mother’s celebrity looks— evident in his sharp features and overly charming personality. He has girls constantly eyeing him left and right, up and down, even when you’re around.

You went into this relationship knowing full well the certain costs it had to your own happiness and well-being. In the 7 months you’ve been seeing each other, you’ve never felt so insecure in your entire life. And despite his constant reassurances, you know that he couldn’t even begin to imagine half of the battlefield you were facing.

No matter how much you try to deny it, you were subconsciously fighting for his attention against people who were born to be at the same status as he is— in terms of wealth, power, and looks. You always hated being born into a grassroots-level family, but you knew that being salty about your birth-given circumstances would change absolutely nothing. So you worked hard as fuck to be able to get into such a prestigious university. You threw the entirety of your youth away to be able to be the first in your family to go to college, and here you are, barely hanging onto your scholarship because of some boy you met at a party almost half a year earlier. 

They’re only admirers, he said. It was just you and him, he said. You just needed to trust him, he said, but that’s something easier said than done, especially for you.

“Running late again?” The security guard monotonously inquires. He’s seen this exact scene about a thousand times and more with other students before you, so he’s chopping the late slip and handing it back to you like clockwork, but this time with a small smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. It was as if he had a good day but not good enough to warrant the toiling of doing such a challenging task.

Not that it mattered to you anyways.

You ducked your head in an informal ‘thank you’ before hurriedly leaving the stale office and into the hallways.

The hallways always seemed unending whenever you were running late, the rows of windows you ran past would multiply tenfold and the clock’s hands would run faster than it usually would— it felt as if time was warping everything within its reach.

Finally, the running reached its stop. You bent on your knees to catch your breath, the late slip crumpling in between your fingers in the process.

One.

Two.

You counted.

There was no reason to panic. Just walk in, hand the slip and sit your ass down. The visual in your head was clear and it somewhat helped to calm down your nerves. So with one last deep breath, you turn the brass handle and walk in.

You’re so damn dramatic.

The doors creaking reverberates in the small auditorium, easily catching everyone’s attention. You gulp down the lump in your throat as you watch your professor pass you a look of disapproval. It made your heart drop, because you were his best student and you hate disappointing people who expect great things from you. Your let your gaze angle towards the carpeted floors, making your way to the seat closest to the door.

When you feel as if you’ve disappeared into your seat, it was as if you could breathe again. You were finally away from the spotlight and people’s unnervingly curious eyes ceased trailing your every move. You should really start sleeping earlier or you’d have to get used to this.

“Hey,” Erin, your seatmate, whispers. Her voice tried to be as discreet as it could in a whisper… it didn’t really work. The professor gave her a stern stare as a form of warning, though you could tell it had an entirely different undertone, even from a mile away. It left a bad taste in your mouth, having to bear witness to such unprofessional exchanges of looks in an academic setting of all places. Erin, who bites her lip, scribbles whatever she was going to say to you on a torn piece of paper.

“Wanna know a secret?” It read with two boxes just right underneath it: yes or no. You look at her with a dumbfounded look plastered all over your face. You knew she was childish to a certain extent, but was she really that childish? Nevertheless, you tick the box on the left and send it back to her.

Cause you know, curiosity killed the cat.

You should’ve seen the conniving smirk plastered on her lips but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice anything else around you. She scribbles once more then folds it, dropping it into your hands with the hastily written warning facing you: “read it when you get home. preferably alone lol ;)”.

Then, class is dismissed.

You watch her get up from her seat and blend in with everybody else rushing out of the room, not missing the heavy glance she passes at the professor. You didn’t even want to stay any longer to see what happened next, so you started haphazardly shoving things into your bag instead, remembering to pocket the small note into the depths of your jacket.

When you leave the room, Lee Heeseung is already standing there, in all his lazy-fitted glory— messy bed hair hiding under a hood, donning the black hoodie you both bought as a couple’s set for valentines last week and the black sweatpants you bought for him to match.

“Hello, beautiful.” He coos, engulfing you in a tight one-armed hug. It gave you the opportunity to take in his woody yet elegant-smelling perfume, the same Jo Malone one he wore everyday.

Your heart swelled in its place, appreciating how, without fail, Heeseung would wait for you outside your classes whenever he could, even if they ended really late— late enough that he should be at home resting, but instead, he would spend that time waiting for you like the good boyfriend he is.

“Hey,” you smile into his chest. “Ugh, I woke up late again today thanks to a certain someone.”

“Wonder who that is? Maybe I should give them a word or two about keeping my princess up so late.” He pulls you from his chest to cup your face, coaxing you to fall deeper with that sweet smile of his. It never fails to make you feel like you’re the only girl in his world, like he’s got your back no matter what.

It was dangerous for such a smile to have the ability to make you forget about all your problems, even ones pertaining to him.

“You’re such a dork,” you roll your eyes at him as you push him away.

“At least I’m your dork, so naturally… it cancels out.” A boyish grin spreads across his face so innocently that you can’t help but press a kiss on his nose, immediately prompting him to blush a crimson red at your sudden display of affection. “What was that for?”

“You looked cute,” you shrug.

At this, Heeseung turns an impossibly darker shade of red. “You can’t just say things like that so casually and expect me to be okay.” The way he attempts to cover the blush in his face behind his hands makes you laugh, completely and utterly endeared by him.

“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll give you a heads up, yeah?”

“You’re so mean.” He pouts.

When you got yourself entangled with the Lee Heeseung all those months ago, you didn’t think that he would have such a boyish and cute side to him. His public persona had always been this untouchable, charismatic guy who could get anything he wanted with a snap of his finger, so you could imagine the whiplash you experienced when the first time you ever kissed him, he blushed so deeply you thought he was drunk.

It made you feel special, being the only one to have ever brought out this side of him, like you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Yeah, but you can’t ever bring yourself to hate me.”

“That… is very true, I’m afraid.” Heeseung sighs, catching your hand in his. “I’m kinda hungry, right now. Sushi?”

“Sure.”

—

Over the course of your entire life, there’ve only been a handful of times where you’ve been betrayed by people you trusted: first when you were twelve, being wrongly accused of having cheated on a test by your then best friend; second when you were the only one to have been thrown under the bus by people you thought were your close group of friends for smoking weed in your highschool’s bathroom cubicle; and third when you found out that Heeseung had been with Erin during the one-week break in your relationship.

The note passed to you by Erin from earlier in the month stays ripped into pieces in the palm of your hand. You’d forgotten all about it until a few hours ago, and you wished it had stayed that way. But you know by now that things never go your way.

You and Heeseung were on break for about a week, citing that you were not in the mental headspace to be dealing with a relationship at that moment in time because of your slipping grades, and he understandably obliged, even kissing your forehead goodbye as you left his apartment.

Erin’s written confession, if you could even call it that, echoes in your mind like a blaring alarm.

from girlie to girlie, your boyfriend came onto me while you guys were on your little break. must say, your boyfriend is talented at making people cry ;).

All you needed was a week to heal and sort your shit out before you went back into his arms, and he couldn’t even wait that long?

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to scream your aching heart away, to be left with nothing more than a void. At least then, you would no longer feel the hurt and betrayal Heeseung inflicted upon you with his actions, and the months of torment you’d endured just to seem worthy to stay by his side.

Did he even ever truly love you like he said he did?

The more you dwell on these thoughts, the more you could feel yourself physically slipping into a state of mental numbness as you stayed motionless on your spot on the carpeted floor.

It wouldn’t be until a few more hours later that Heeseung would enter your dorm, tired as ever from his basketball practice. It was routine for him to crash at your dorm on Tuesdays and Fridays—whenever he had basketball practices— because it was more convenient for him to get to his 9am class the next day from your in-campus dorm, compared to his condo that was 20 minutes away. Adding that you gave him the energy he needed for the days ahead, but now you’re contemplating whether that part was even true or not.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you from the entrance. “I’ve got to tell you about what happened to Jay at practice today-” he cuts himself short as he spots your leaning figure, head tucked into your knees, surrounded by torn pieces of paper.

“Y/n?” He quickly runs to your side.

“Seungie,” you meekly whisper as you lift your head, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes finally coming into clear view.

“Did something happen? What happened?” His hands make quick work to caress your face, tucking stray pieces of hair behind your ears and wiping tears away with his thumb.

Even after knowing what he had allegedly done behind your back, you couldn’t help but feel your heart pounding. This was the sweet, caring Heeseung you knew and loved. And so the thought that Erin could’ve been lying to you, flitters across your mind and nestles itself there.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right?” Your voice sounds hoarse and quiet, yet the silent pleading rings deafeningly in your ears. You felt so pathetic crying in your living room about a boy who might’ve technically cheated on you, then finding yourself putty in his hands the moment he shows you the version of truth you’re familiar with.

Why are making up excuses for his behaviour?

Gosh, your roommate would kill you if she knew how much of a loser you’ve become in Heeseung’s presence.

“Of course not, baby,” he pulls you into an embrace. “There’s nothing I could ever lie to you about.” Did this ease your trust issues in any way? No. But it did assure you that Erin was still nothing but a serial liar, wanting nothing more than to see other people’s relationships fall apart for her own selfish entertainment… you think.

You hum into Heeseung’s tweed pullover.

It was always like this. You don’t know how many times you’ve gone through the same thing, and you don’t know how many more times you can go through without fully losing your sanity. But you can’t seem to find it in yourself to pull away, no matter how exhausted your heart and soul becomes.

—

“Can’t believe you stayed with him, even after knowing what he did behind your back.” Erin sneers from beside you, clearly amused by your course of actions these past few weeks.

“Whatever I do is none of your business,” you bite back through your teeth. You’ve never liked Erin, but even more so after the stunt she did that almost cost you your entire relationship with Heeseung. You should’ve known that she never had good intentions to begin with, constantly lying through her teeth. “I know you lied about it.”

She raises an eyebrow at this, “You think I’m lying? Oh baby, you’re really so fucking gullible.” Erin could practically see the cogs turning in your brain, if the furrowing of your brows were anything to go by. “I’m saying that Heeseung has you completely under his thumb, and you’re dumb enough to believe anything and everything he says,” she plays with her pen, swirling it around her finger as she eyes you. “It’s whatever though, Heeseung likes good girls anyways.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think we both know very well.” She smirks, tapping the pen on her temple once then twice, before shifting in her seat back towards the front of the lecture hall.

Just what was her fucking deal?

It leaves you with more questions than answers, as you watch her diligently jot down notes from beside you. After today, you were for sure going to switch seats because there was just no fucking way you could survive the rest of the year this way.

—

You don’t know how you ended up here. The first minute you were being dumped by Heeseung, and the next you’re waking up with a raging hangover in his best friend's bed.

Heeseung technically didn’t dump you, telling you that he wanted a break the same you did all those months before. And you technically didn't end up in his best friend’s bed by complete choice. You were drunk out of your mind at a party last night, one that your roommate had dragged you to after seeing you in your depressed state for the past week. But no matter the excuse you try to conjure, it still doesn’t excuse the fact that you cheated on your boyfriend.

Your heart beats sporadically at the sight of Sunghoon’s bare back facing you, not because you’re flustered but because you’re instantly hit with the gravity of your own drunken choices.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With heavy feet, you stumble out of his bed and start navigating through the mess of discarded clothes, and soon after, Sunghoon eventually stirs awake from the ruckus you were unintentionally causing in his shared dorm room. “Y/n?” He groggily calls out to you.

Fuck.

It didn’t take Sunghoon very long to figure out why the fuck you were in his room half-naked, piecing together the clues that lay around the expanse of his dorm. He clearly didn’t need to be a genius like Einstein to figure out that you and him had a drunken one-night stand. You—Heeseung’s girlfriend—and him—Heeseung’s best friend—had spent the night together. Intimately.

Right around the three-second mark, the same level of anxiety sank into his stomach. 

Fuck, indeed.

“I made a mistake.” Your voice trembled, tears starting to blur your vision as hot panic courses through you.

“Hey, we were both drunk,” Sunghoon says, sitting up at the sight of you still half-dressed and starting to break down at the foot of his bed. “Heeseung doesn’t have to know about this. We both made a mistake, and don’t blame yourself because you weren’t the only one, okay?”

“But, fuck, it doesn’t change the fact that I cheated on my boyfriend. What the fuck was I thinking?” Your fingers fly to tousle with your hair, pulling at the roots to try and ease the pounding in your head.

You weren’t any better than all the people you were disgusted by, seeing as you’ve stopped as low. Memories from last night flash through your mind, as if to haunt you; the party, the flashing lights, the drinks, the kissing, the skin against skin. You felt so fucking sick to your stomach.

“We didn’t mean to sleep with each other. We were just drunk.” Sunghoon reasons, but no amount of gaslighting could change what’s already been done.

You were either going to live with this aching thorn by your side forever, or own up to your mistakes like a normal human being with a moral compass. With how deep you’ve fallen for Heeseung, you couldn’t bear losing him, yet both options entailed losing him one way or another.

It’s best not knowing what could potentially hurt, right?

Right.

© i2ycat 2024